But in a crowd like this, lighting up a Cuban would be frowned upon. Trophy wives didn't like their designer dresses to reek of tobacco. And they'd create enough fuss to make even someone like Slater realize it was better to smoke away from all the silks and satins, if only to keep from listening to their bitching. So if the giant wanted his nicotine fix tonight, Slater would have to seek out a less crowded location to puff away to his heart's content. And when he did, I'd make my move-
"Is this seat taken?" a voice rumbled to my right.
I turned my head and found myself staring into Owen Grayson's violet eyes. "It is now."
Owen tipped his head, settled himself next to me, and ordered a tonic water.
"No scotch tonight?" I asked.
The bartender slid his drink over, and Owen rattled the ice cubes in the glass before he took a sip. "I don't drink when I'm gambling."
"Didn't look like much of a gamble," I replied. "Since you were up several hundred thousand dollars last time I saw you, and the other players desperately looked like they wanted you to move to another table."
Owen grinned. "I should probably mention that I'm excellent at bluffing."
"I just bet you are."
We sat there in companionable silence for a few moments. Owen leaned back, his gaze slowly tracking up and down my body. Admiring the view. I had to admit the unabashed attention pleased me. Especially when there were so many more attractive women on board. Even assassins had egos.
"You know," Owen said in a casual tone. "We're going to have to stop meeting like this."
"Like what?"
He gestured. "At a bar."
This time, I leaned back against said bar and cocked an eyebrow. "You didn't seem too upset last time we were at a bar together. The other night at Northern Aggression."
"That's because you promised to call me," Owen replied. "Which you haven't done yet."
I shrugged. "I've been busy."
"With what?"
Across the deck, Elliot Slater raked in a pile of gold chips.
"This and that."
Owen drained the rest of his tonic. "You know, I'm not used to waiting for a woman to call."
"Well, then this new experience will be good for your ego," I replied. "Keep it from getting too inflated. I think we also discussed that last time we met."
Owen chuckled, then scooted forward and put his hand on top of mine. It was a light touch, as gentle as a breeze. But to me, the feel of his warm skin on mine whispered of possibilities-and the pleasure that could be found in more full-body contact.
"What do you say we get out of here, Gin? Go have that dinner you promised me?"
"Dinner?" I replied.
"Dinner," he said, his eyes darkening to a rich, plum color. "And maybe some dessert too. If you'd like."
I knew exactly what he meant by dessert. My eyes drifted over Owen's face, down his chest, and over his strong, capable-looking hands. Once again, a hot tingle of desire sizzled to life in the pit of my stomach.
Donovan Caine wasn't coming back. The detective had made it perfectly clear that I wasn't what he wanted. That he valued his precious morals more than what he could have with me. And Owen Grayson was here, ready, willing, and able-and his violet eyes free of the guilt that had always darkened Donovan's golden ones.
Owen's thumb stroked over the back of my hand, another light, delicious touch that made me want to say yes to him, just to see what would happen between us-
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Elliot Slater get to his feet. He murmured something in Roslyn's ear, then snapped his fingers. The two giants that had been hovering around the blackjack table moved closer to Roslyn, ordered to watch her instead of Slater. The giant traced a finger down the side of Roslyn's cheek. The vamp attempted to smile through the touch, but it came off as more of a grimace. Slater didn't seem to notice, though. He pulled a heavy silver case out from inside his jacket, opened it, and plucked out a long, fat cigar.
My window of opportunity had just opened. I wouldn't get a better chance than this all evening. I might not get another chance all evening.
Owen's thumb kept up its long, sure strokes, a promise of what could come later with other, more interesting parts of his anatomy. My pleasure or Roslyn's pain. No choice, really.
I smiled at Owen, pulled my hand away from his, and got to my feet. "Hold that thought. I see someone I just have to speak to. Please excuse me for a few minutes."
Surprise flashed in his eyes, and Owen opened his mouth, probably to ask what I thought I was doing turning down his open invitation yet again. I wasn't sure I knew myself.
I might even have been sorry if I hadn't already turned and walked away.
Chapter Sixteen
I kept to the perimeter of the deck, drawing as little attention to myself as possible as I headed after Elliot Slater. By this point, the benefit was in full swing, with at least three hundred people milling about in the open air, playing poker, pulling the slot machines, and drinking themselves into a fevered tizzy. More than enough traffic and noise to conceal my movements to all but the most devoted observer.
The key to making it look like you're not following someone is to pretend like he doesn't even exist. That the two of you are just out for a stroll, coincidentally in the same direction with the same destination in mind. So I walked along at a sedate pace, smiling at the men and women who wandered past me. I even paused a few seconds and pretended to be interested in the outcome of a baccarat game.
Finn had seen Slater get up, and he spotted me moving through the crowd after the giant. Finn nodded at me, encouraging me to keep going. I nodded back. I had no intention of stopping until the giant was dead and feeding the catfish in the Aneirin River.
Thirty feet ahead of me, Elliot Slater rounded the corner of the deck and disappeared from view. I watched the end of another baccarat game, waited a few more seconds, then followed him.
Around the corner, the wide deck narrowed to a long walkway that ran the length of the entire riverboat. This side of the boat faced into the Aneirin River, and a few couples had slipped away from the rest of the maddening crowd to take in the view and murmur hot suggestions into each other's ears. I ignored them, my eyes fixed on my prey.
Ahead of me, Slater continued to walk at a casual pace that suggested he was out for a smoke and a stroll and nothing else. He broke free of the last remaining couple and stepped through an open door. It was quieter here, and I took care to put my heels down as softly as I could on the wooden deck. I eased up to the door and peered inside.