Without Regret

The dark interior of the casino called his name, but Isaiah Fontenot doubted the voices were saying the same things to him that they were saying to most of the people surrounding him. 

Hit me!

Stand!

Come on, six!

No, those weren’t the same voices he was hearing. Not today, anyway. 

Isaiah wasn’t drawn to the flashing lights of the slot machines or the cheers coming from the blackjack tables. Nor did he find any interest in the chaos that surrounded the craps tables.

Then again, he wasn’t a gambler—at least not when it came to casino games. Other things in life, sure.

​So, it only made sense that he wasn’t hearing those voices in his head as he snaked his way through the various slot machines, past the line of blackjack tables teeming with people. Unlike most of the people in the place, he wasn’t seeking a way to discard some of his hard-earned money in minutes. No, Isaiah was actually looking for someone.

A woman.

More accurately, a beautiful woman. One who had found herself in a shit ton of trouble as of late and had somehow ended up as Isaiah’s problem.

Being that he was from Las Vegas, lived and worked on the Vegas strip—in the very casino he currently traversed, in fact—Isaiah didn’t have much interest in the tourist hot spot, didn’t find intrigue in the sights and sounds of money being spent hand over fist in an effort to hit the big one, all with enormous hopes of coming out a winner. However, he did see the merits of using the place as a hideout, as the woman seemed to be doing. 

With a cautious eye on his surroundings, Isaiah continued toward the bar. 

Nope, nothing. 

No spark of excitement in his gut, no antsy fingers ready to hit or stand. In fact, Isaiah was certain he’d been desensitized to it over the years. Although he wasn’t opposed to gambling as a whole, he simply tended to lean toward a different type of risk, something a little less … controlled.

Not to mention, the family he worked for wouldn’t take too kindly to him gambling on the job. He’d been sent on this particular mission to locate a specific person, who, according to his boss, wouldn’t be too keen on going with him once he did finally locate her, but that was a challenge Isaiah was up for.

Good thing he knew how to make things happen. It was one of the reasons the family he worked for depended on him and his twin brother, Micah, to run the show in Las Vegas. They’d been in charge of one of Vegas’s swankiest nightclubs, Devil’s Playground, for the past five years and had, over time, established quite the reputation.

As he eased up against the bar, Isaiah peered around, pretending to be looking for someone. It was partially true, he was looking for someone, someone he’d already located. In fact, he’d made eye contact with the copper-haired goddess, even offered a smile that reflected his feigned interest. Or he hoped it had, anyway.

Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

In an attempt to appear casual, Isaiah ordered a drink and then retrieved his cell phone from his pocket while he waited. Thumbing the screen, he pulled up his contact list. He didn’t have to scroll too far to find the information for Maximillian Adorite. Pulling the number up, he hit the button to send a text.

Found her. 

Less than a minute later, he received a response: Report when you have more information.

Knowing his boss didn’t need unnecessary pleasantries, Isaiah pocketed his phone as he retrieved his drink from the bartender. He sipped the top-shelf, single malt scotch, allowing his gaze to once again roam the area. His mark hadn’t left from where she sat alone at a corner table. She looked nervous as hell, and Isaiah couldn’t very well blame her. Despite the fact that he worked for the Texas family known as the Southern Boy Mafia, by far one of the most powerful and influential organized crime families in Texas, this girl … well, she’d inadvertently gotten in bed with some pretty nasty people, and his boss had asked that he pull her into the fold in order to protect her.

Strange, that. Isaiah wasn’t used to tracking people, or saving them, as was the case here, but he didn’t defy orders—nor did he question them—when they came down. 

So here he was.

Waiting.

Max Adorite wasn’t known much for his kindness, but ever since Max had married Courtney Kogan, he’d gotten a little soft. Not that Isaiah would ever let anyone hear him say that. After all, he didn’t have a death wish. Apparently, with this particular gig, Max was doing a favor for his wife. According to the information he’d been given, the mystery woman’s family had sought out the Sniper 1 Security team to help locate, and protect, the woman’s brother, and since Courtney’s family owned the business, and the incident was in Vegas, they’d leaned on her to help out because they knew Max had business there. 

And now Isaiah was involved.

Micah should’ve been, as well, but … he was MIA. As was usually the case during the daylight hours.

For a brief moment, Isaiah allowed his gaze to slide over the mystery woman whose life he was about to save, although his methods would likely be questioned. Not that he gave a shit. He got things done, and he knew just what the situation warranted.

He’d known what she looked like thanks to the picture Max had provided, but the camera hadn’t done her justice. Her long hair looked like copper silk hanging over her slender shoulders and caressing the tops of her breasts. From his vantage point, he could also tell that she had a really, really nice rack—something that hadn’t been evident in her picture—hidden beneath a snug, black tank top. 

Her clear, sea-green eyes glimmered in the dim lights shining over her as she peered out from beneath her lashes, pretending not to notice him watching her. With the way the lights shone down on her, her alabaster skin appeared soft and smooth, and despite his mission and the notion that the woman would likely freak once he officially introduced himself, Isaiah couldn’t deny the instant attraction he felt for her.

Not that he was looking for a woman. He had enough of those to deal with on a nightly basis, all types, all races, all shapes and sizes. He loved women, all of them, but he didn’t have to go searching for one. Being that he managed Devil’s Playground—Max’s Vegas nightclub, named the same as its sister locations in Dallas and New York—he had his pick of the litter on any given night. Since the club was located in one of the ritziest hotels on the strip, Isaiah didn’t have to worry about relationships, either, thanks to the tourists who strolled in and out of his world almost instantly. In this city, people were usually just visiting, merely a temporary distraction, as far as he was concerned.

But tonight, before he went to work, Isaiah had another job. One that required him to move away from the bar and talk to this woman before she slipped away and he had to spend hours searching for her again.

When she finished her drink, he decided to make his move. Taking his glass with him, he made his way over to her. Smiling, he decided to forego a cheesy line in the hopes that direct would be the better angle. 

“Mind if I buy you a drink?” he asked as he approached, watching the attractive woman intently.

And for the first time in all of his thirty-eight years, Isaiah experienced something he’d never encountered before. The woman whose attention he was looking to attract took one look at him and  … panicked.

Yep, that was certainly new.