* * *

Answer: about thirty seconds, the first ten spent figuring out how to make the machine work. Modern-day slot machines, I discovered, didn’t require you to pull the “arm” on their side down. In fact, the arm was just for decoration now. Everything was automatic, which meant you pressed a button and watched the pictures of apples and bells and sevens spin around for a few seconds before they came to a stop—always unmatched—and the screen announced that you had lost.

“Dammit,” I muttered, after I’d fed a third dollar into the side of the machine and lost it almost as quickly. “That was my last single.” I looked to the soldier, standing vigilant at my side like an alert guard dog. I didn’t think he’d taken his eyes off the crowds once. “Hey, Garret, you don’t happen to have any loose change weighing you down, do you?”

He gave me a split-second glance, the corner of his lip curling up as he went back to surveying the floor. “I thought dragons liked to hoard their wealth,” he said in a low voice. “Not throw it away at slot machines.”

“I’m investing.” I wrinkled my nose at him. “That last spin was almost triple sevens. I’m gonna get lucky any second now.”

“Right.”

I poked him in the ribs. He grunted. “Fine,” I muttered, digging in my shorts pocket. “Guess I’ll have to use that five instead.”

But before I could stick the money into the machine, Garret abruptly pushed away from the stool and took my hand. My pulse jumped, and a tingle shot up my arm, even as the soldier pulled me away from the aisle and into the crowds.

“Garret.” I almost had to jog to keep pace with him. “What are you doing?”

“Security,” he replied, and I looked back to see two men in uniforms pass the row we were just in. One of them caught my eye, frowned and angled toward us through the crowds. I squeaked.

“He’s following us!”

“Don’t panic.” Garret’s fingers tightened around mine. “And don’t act nervous. Just keep walking, and don’t look back.”

Squeezing his palm, I faced forward and followed his lead. We “fast-ambled” through the casino, weaving through crowds, circling around roulette tables, trying to appear nonchalant and move quickly at the same time. I didn’t dare look back, but Garret, without stopping or turning his head, somehow knew exactly where the guard was and what he was doing.

“Still following us,” he muttered as we strolled through a slot machine aisle hand in hand. “I think he’s waiting to see if we try to play a game. I believe that’s illegal here, right? You have to be twenty-one to gamble?”

“I am twenty-one,” I protested, and he shot me a quizzical glance. I raised my chin. “According to the ID of Miss Emily Gates, I turned twenty-one this January.”

His lip twitched. “Do you really want them checking up on that?”

“Um. No.”

“And do you really want Riley finding out that they checked up on that?”

I grimaced at him. “Right. Point taken. How do we ditch the rent-a-cop?”

“Just be ready to move when I do.”

I nodded. Garret made a meandering left turn down a slot machine aisle, but as soon as we were out of sight of the guard, lunged forward with a burst of speed. I scrambled to keep pace. He pulled us around another aisle, and I followed, clinging to his hand and biting my lip to keep a maniacal giggle from slipping out. We wove through a couple more slot machine corridors, melted back into the crowd and circled a noisy, cheering roulette table. Abruptly, Garret pulled me to the edge of the table, somehow squeezing us between a pair of half-drunk guys and their girlfriends. They jostled us, their attention solely on the spinning roulette wheel and the little ball bouncing within, but then Garret wrapped his arms around me from behind and leaned in close, and I forgot about everything else.

“Keep your head down,” he whispered, his voice low in my ear. “The guard is still following, but he’s lost sight of us now. Don’t make eye contact, and when he passes, we go back the other way and lose him for good.”

“Got it.” I held my breath, keeping my eyes on the table but hyperaware of Garret’s arms around my stomach, holding me against him. I could feel his breath, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the taut coil of muscle in his arms.

After a tense, yet still far too short moment, Garret pulled away, looking back over his shoulder. “Clear,” he muttered, as I risked a glance in the direction he was facing. The guard was moving away from us, following the crowds as they ambled through the casino. I couldn’t see his face, but from the way he was turning his head from side to side, he was still looking for us. I let out a breath and started to relax.

But then, he turned and came back our way. With a squeak, I quickly faced forward as Garret did the same, pressing close. His heart beat crazily against my back, and I suspected he could feel mine pounding away, too. Thankfully, the guard passed us by once more, and this time continued through the casino until he was lost from view.

I exhaled, then collapsed into helpless giggles, leaning against Garret. He looked down with that amused half smile on his face, as if he didn’t quite know what to do with me.

“Well.” I peered down the aisle, making sure the guard was really gone, then looked back at Garret. “That was exciting, wasn’t it? I think next time we should try the poker tables.” He raised an eyebrow, looking alarmed, and I laughed again. “Sorry,” I offered. “I suppose we should head upstairs before Riley comes back and bites our heads off. I’m sure dodging casino security wasn’t exactly what you signed up for tonight.”

He chuckled. “I’ve had to lose a couple tails in my life,” he admitted. “Not all pursuers have been large angry reptiles. Tristan and I once spent the night dodging security guards in a museum warehouse. Nothing like huddling under a tarp with a family of cavemen to give you perspective.”

I blinked at him. “Did you have a few drinks before we came down here?”

“No. Why?”

“You realize you just made a joke.”

A cheer went up from the roulette crowd, and one of the drunk guys jostled me, knocking me into Garret. He quickly put out his hands, steadying us both, and my annoyance at Rude Guy was instantly forgotten as I glanced up and met those steely gray eyes.

Garret blinked. His hands lightly gripped my arms, rough, calloused fingertips warm on my skin. Slowly, he slid them up my shoulders, raising goose bumps and leaving a trail of heat. “Maybe you’re rubbing off on me,” he mused, serious again. “Or maybe…I’ve come to the realization that everything I know is wrong, and I’m starting not to care anymore.”