Vincent and Harrison both cursed, but Wyatt ignored them and dodged to the side of the doorway. It was too damn dark to see if anyone was waiting directly inside, but he wasn’t walking in now and making himself a target. Inching along the exterior wall, he crouched down as he half-crawled half-walked. Three windows over, he pulled out his pocket-sized flashlight and peered inside. Graffiti covered every wall and there were brownish stains on crumbling ceiling tiles, but it was otherwise empty.

After dropping the briefcase inside, he hoisted himself over then pulled out his Colt .45. Unlike Iris’s favorite gun, his weapon wasn’t custom-made, but he went to the shooting range monthly and the Marines had taught him how to do many things well—including hit any target.

His shoes were silent against the industrial carpet as he moved. Setting the case against a wall, Wyatt called on his former military training and swept out into the hall, weapon raised.

Empty.

It was as if he’d never left the Marines as he cleared the next three rooms down the long hallway.

“Back four rooms, west side are clear,” Vincent said, his voice barely a whisper.

“Back four, east side also clear.” This time it was Harrison.

Wyatt quietly gave his status update but paused when he heard a slight shuffling sound somewhere in front of him. It came from one of the last three rooms he had to clear along this hallway.

Ducking back into one of the rooms he’d just cleared, he grabbed a flat soccer ball with peeling green paint he’d seen, then cautiously stepped back into the hall. As he neared the next door he paused then hauled back and tossed the ball into the first room like a grenade.

Shots went off, exploding into the quiet with brutal intensity as his decoy worked. Harrison was asking for a status update in his earpiece, but Wyatt ignored him. “The place is surrounded and I know you don’t have Iris anymore! Give yourself up, Thorton.”

“Fuck you!” Another three rounds slammed through the plaster of the wall. As far as Wyatt knew, Thorton didn’t have any training, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t get off a lucky shot.

Wyatt rolled to the ground and shot back through the wall in the direction the bullets had come from. Thorton cried out and Wyatt heard a thump, but he couldn’t be sure if he’d hit him. “Thorton? You have no leverage anymore and I don’t think you want to die. Come out and we’ll work this out.” Wyatt didn’t give a shit about working things out, but he wanted Thorton brought to justice. More importantly, he wanted to know if he had any partners, if Wyatt needed to be worried about anyone else coming after him or Iris.

“Fuck you.” This time he sounded slurred, unsteady.

“Why are you doing all this, Thorton? I knew your father and he was a good man.” Definitely not true, but Wyatt wanted to get his guard down. “Did Keibler drag you into this mess because of our history? Is that what’s going on?”

Harrison informed Wyatt that he and Vincent were on their way, but Wyatt remained in position outside the door.

At first he thought Thorton wouldn’t respond then he started laughing, the maniacal sound sending a shiver down Wyatt’s spine. “You’re so…fucking arrogant.” He coughed, the sound wet and gurgled, as if he was choking on his own blood. “Keibler knew…nothing. This was all me, you fucking thief. Think you can steal deals that belong…to me…” He trailed off into a hacking cough.

Once he was silent Wyatt tried again. “You don’t sound so good. Why don’t you come out here and we’ll work things out?” And get the hell out of this place.

Thorton started half-laughing, half-coughing. “Neither of us…are getting out of here.” The way he said it, so sure of himself made all the hair on the back of Wyatt’s neck stand up.

Shit. “Vincent, Harrison, get the fuck out of here now. The place is rigged.” The two men uttered curses, but gave him an affirmative that they were moving out.

He couldn’t be sure, but after the way Keibler had died, his gut told him to run. For all Wyatt knew this was a scare tactic, but he wouldn’t bet his life on it and more importantly, he wouldn’t bet anyone else’s on it either. He sprinted toward the nearest open door and dove through one of the windows. Pain pierced his upper arm as a piece of serrated glass caught him, but he ignored it as he rolled onto the hard ground. Shoving up, he ran toward the street, his legs and lungs straining as he pushed himself to haul ass.

Once he’d cleared the street and was almost to the other building parallel to the one Thorton was in, he finally slowed and turned. “You guys clear?”

“Yeah, you sure—”

A fireball of orange and red ripped through the night air, lighting up the bleak surroundings like fireworks. For one moment everything was illuminated before debris rained down across the street. Thankfully Wyatt was far enough away out of the blast range. Something slammed into the windshield of his SUV, setting the car alarm off, but he didn’t care as long as Thorton was dead. He didn’t even give a shit about his money that had just been incinerated in the explosion—it was insured anyway. He tucked his weapon into the back of his pants as he let a thread of relief slide through him.

“Wyatt?” Harrison asked.

“Yeah, I’m good. How about you guys?” he asked, looking around for them.

“We’re good, look to your left.”

When he did, he spotted both men crouched behind a dead tree stump one building over. As he started to head toward them, an SUV turned the corner, tires squealing as it raced down the street. It jerked to a sudden stop and before he could move, Iris jumped out and ran toward him.

Wyatt didn’t remember moving, but seconds later Iris launched herself at him, wrapping her legs and arms around him in a tight embrace. His throat was so tight he couldn’t squeeze any words out. All he could do was hold her. Iris buried her face against his neck, her tears soaking him as shudders wracked her body. He hated that anything could make his strong, beautiful wife cry. “I love you,” he finally rasped out into her shoulder. “I should have told you sooner, but I do. More than anything.” If she didn’t return his feelings, he’d deal with it, but there was no way in hell he was going another second without telling her.

She pulled back, her eyes red-rimmed and wet as a smile spread across her face. “I love you too.”

A weight he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying—probably for his whole damn life—lifted at those words. No matter what the future held, he was going to spend the rest of his life showing Iris how much she meant to him. No holding back anymore.

Chapter 16

Two weeks later

Already in a dark mood, Wyatt glared at the buttons of the elevator. As if that would make the thing go faster. He’d already put his master key in and was heading to the tenth floor of the fifty floor hotel, where his office at this particular hotel was. He’d been called down to the security room for bullshit reasons and now all he wanted to do was wrap up the rest of his paperwork and head back to Miami. After spending the last two weeks there he’d managed to do everything long-distance, but had been forced to come to Vegas yesterday because he’d needed to do some things in person.

Like meet with the head of the construction team about to break ground on another hotel/casino. The Serafina was going to have six pools, elaborate gardens, imported Russian sculptures, and one of the most exclusive spas on the west coast. It had been one of his favorite projects for the past six months, but today he didn’t care about any of that. He simply wanted to get back to Iris.

She’d been fine with him leaving last night. Too fine, in fact. After all that shit with Thorton had been figured out by the police—and his dead body forensically identified from the scene of the blast—the last two weeks he’d spent wrapped up with Iris. Mostly naked when he hadn’t been working. It had been pure heaven. She’d taken some time off work too, but she had a job coming up and hadn’t been able to come to Vegas with him while she prepared for it.

Wyatt understood, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He wanted Iris near him always. After what felt like an eternity, the cylindrical shaped elevator dinged and opened onto the correct floor that was exclusively employee offices. Ellie was waiting there as he stepped out.

“It’s after seven, go home,” he practically barked, even though it was clear she was doing just that.

She shook her head as she stepped into the waiting car, her heels clicking against the shiny tile. “One day without her and you’re a monster. It’s pathetic, boss.”

Wyatt grunted a non-response as he headed through her anterior office to his own. She was right. He was pathetic. And he didn’t care. Deep down, he knew he wouldn’t be able to travel back and forth long-term. Which meant he’d definitely be selling some of his casinos. Probably the Serafina once it was finished. Unless of course Iris accepted the job he had to offer her—but he hadn’t figured out a way to broach the subject yet. She was more than qualified for it, but he wasn’t sure what her reaction would be. He didn’t want her to feel like he was pushing her into something.

As he stepped into his office, he froze. Iris sat at his desk, the city illuminated behind her through his ceiling to floor windows. Even with the lights off, he could see her perfectly. Leaning back in his chair, she had her legs propped up on his desk and crossed at the ankles. And she was wearing four-inch fuck me heels and a skintight red dress that might as well have been painted on.

Like Pavlov’s dog, his mouth watered at the sight of her. Yeah, he was pathetic. “How’d you get in here?” he blurted.

She raised a dark eyebrow, but didn’t move from her spot where she was clearly comfortable all stretched out. All he could think about was taking her on his desk. “How do you think? Ellie. She managed to get me a last minute flight out here on your jet. I’m pretty sure she threatened the pilot with bodily harm if he informed you I was coming.”

He leaned against the doorframe, enjoying the view of Iris looking relaxed and so very fuckable. “That woman deserves a raise,” he muttered.