“Hi, Dad. Checking in. I’ll make it quick, and there may not be anything to it. I’m just getting the idea from Lily that her dad plans to widely and comprehensively shaft the O’Malleys. And I don’t have any details. I don’t know what it would mean for us, anyway, but I wanted to let you know. She was talking about Liam, and she said, ‘I hope he knows what he’s doing,’ and, ‘Daddy is not a man to be trusted. Could be that it’s just talk.”
By the time I’m done, Lily has had enough of roulette.
“It looks glamorous in movies and videos, but it’s boring.”
A yelping shout goes up. A lot of flesh slaps, high-fiveing. She says, “Whats all that noise?”
I tell her, “That will be the craps table.”
“I hear the call of my people.”
She’s at the side of the table, in the jostle. Exactly where a bodyguard would want her not to be.
But there she is, getting the hang of the game. The come-out line, pass and don’t pass. All the basics of the bets. Craps can be as simple or as complicated as you want.
I stand behind her. She leans back. As she does, she grinds her ass against me. Each time she moves back to the high-sided pit of the craps table, her feet are a little farther back.
Her ass shoves and rocks progressively harder against my pelvis. She’s aiming for revenge for me bringing her off in Kings & McQueen’s. Well, good luck with that, baby.
I move forward.
She doesn’t move. I feel her take a long breath in. Then her ass rolls. Just a little. Would anybody here see it?
No. But only because they’re all more interested in the action on the table than in anything that’s going on around it.
So, as she rolls and twists, I grind and saw. Slow. So slow, no-one can see. Not unless they were watching really closely.
But she feels it alright.
Soon enough, she gets to be the shooter. Before she moves to stand at the end of the table to throw, she reaches back for my hand. And when she slips her fingers in mine, without looking round, she pushes my hand back to hook behind my ass. Gives a tug at the top of my thigh. Squeezes us together.
While she rolls for a dozen throws, she makes sure I’m right behind her. As she bends over to throw, each time she wiggles her ass against my cock.
She’s making it a contest now.
Picking up how the game works, she wins a few hundred dollars. When the croupier shoves a pile of chips at her, she turns and wriggles in my arms. She holds my face and her lips glisten as her eyes sparkle into mine.
Her lips shape for a kiss. I shouldn’t, I must not let it happen. I start to list the reasons why. Her father being an obsessive psychopath is high on the list.
Then she pulls away, laughing.
“I know to quit when I’m ahead.”
She pulls out her phone for selfies.
Pit bosses and security converge, smooth and fast. Before they can surround her, I make a firm eye contact with each of them and put out my hands.
“What?” she says, looking around. She holds up the phone to video the scene.
They close in.
There are three now. But I’ll need to get us out. Fast. That will mean getting through their backup, too.
In close protection, you learn prompt, clear announcements. I should say loudly, ‘It’s only a phone. I’m her bodyguard. Do not approach.’
But they’ve got their jobs to do. So I have to do mine.
The nearest security guard is stocky. Moving fast, coming low. As I swing and jab my elbow hard under his ear, I reach for the guard on the far side. Pull him hard by his wrist. He turns, surprised. I slam the side of my forearm into the side of his head.
The pit boss is big and coming head-on. As he sees what happened to the guards, he’s reaching back.
“Sorry,” I tell him. “It’s my job.”
His eyes stretch wide in shock. I grip one hand on the crook of his neck, one on his crotch. I lift him for a body-slam to the ground. Damn, he’s heavy. I give his balls a squeeze to crush them up for good measure.
Lily is looking round. The only way out is to pull her with me. I yank her wrist and run to the lobby. As soon as we’re out of the gaming room, I slow us to a saunter.
I pull Lily close. “Weave with me. Act drunk.”
With an earpiece, I talk into my phone. “Dad?” He picks up. I tell him I’m in the O’Malley’s Spades Royalle and explain the situation.
He tells me, “I’ll call Liam.”
We keep our faces down, able toward the wall, and I hope Liam gets through before we’re in a gunfight. Security staff dash through the lobby in confusion. With my arm around her, we make our way, slow and unsteady, to lurk by some tall, exotic plants.