CHAPTER FIFTY

Michael leaned against the bar, drinking a scotch and surveying the scene. The waterfalls at Mandalay Bay hummed, splashing down gently along the rocks, while a man at the black baby grand piano played Billie Holiday. The man was Sophie’s ex-husband, who was still one of her closest friends, and Michael thought it was pretty damn cool that the guy was at her wedding.

What was also fantastic was that the piano player was just a piano player, not a camouflaged front man for crime.

Well, at least Michael was as sure as he could be that Holden was one of the good guys. Everyone here was, even Sanders, who was grabbing an appetizer from a waiter. He handed it to Becky, and she nibbled on it with a smile as he brushed a kiss to her cheek.

Michael turned to Colin, who nursed a Diet Coke next to him at the bar. “Think you’ll be next down the aisle?”

His brother shrugged, but he had a sheepish look in his brown eyes. Michael stared at him. “That seems like a yes.”

Colin laughed and set down his drink. “Maybe,” he said evasively.

“C’mon,” Michael teased. “I got myself shot. The least you could do is get married.”

Colin frowned. “Wait. What does you getting shot have to do with me getting married?”

It was Michael’s turn to laugh. “Nothing whatsoever. I just like milking this for all it’s worth,” he said, tapping his chest where the bullet had gotten acquainted with his body one fine day a month ago.

“Bastard,” Colin muttered with a smile, as they scanned the crowd once more. Over in the corner, John snagged what looked like tuna sashimi on a fancy potato chip from a waiter’s tray. He pretended to feed it to Mindy and then stuffed it in his own mouth as she laughed. Nearby, Ryan and Sophie chatted with a group of his hockey buddies from the league he played in. Sophie looked stunning, and Michael had no clue what kind of dress it was or anything like that, but she seemed like a 50s movie star, all Marilyn Monroe and radiant, while Ryan looked like the happiest guy on earth.

Nearby, Annalise snapped a photo of them. She’d taken the official wedding photos, and was also shooting candids throughout the day, from Sophie getting ready, to her arriving at the hotel, to the reception.

Michael nudged Colin with his elbow. “Seriously, though. Are you thinking about asking Elle? Or are you happy with how things are?”

“I’m happy with how things are, but I wouldn’t mind marrying her, either.”

“Is that so?”

Colin’s eyes widened when he realized Elle had just appeared by his side. Michael cracked up. He hadn’t seen her coming, either.

Colin pulled her into an embrace. “I meant it in a good way.”

She swatted his chest. “You better have meant it in a good way.”

“Fine,” Colin said. “Wanna marry me?”

Elle laughed, tossing her head back, her long hair spilling down her back. “Nice way to ask a girl.”

“Well, would you say yes if I asked you?”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’ll have to ask and find out.”

Colin pressed a kiss to Elle’s neck, then turned to Michael. “Thanks for getting me in trouble,” he said.

“That hardly looks like trouble to me.”

“Want me to go ask Annalise if she’ll marry you?”

Michael gestured in the direction of the woman who’d saved his life, in more ways than one. “Be my guest.”

He had no worries in that area. Maybe they’d get married. Maybe they wouldn’t. But he didn’t need a ring or a piece of paper to know she was his forever. He had the confidence in his heart, and the faith that he’d always find a way to take care of her, and give her everything she’d want and anything she’d need. “But hey, maybe our little bro will be next.”

Michael cast his gaze to Marcus, who cleaned up well. The kid wore a gray suit and a tie and had brought along a date—a dancer named Cassidy, who worked for Shannon’s Shay Productions. Marcus was heading back to Florida to go to school there, so this date might be a one-time thing, but judging from the way he looked at her, held her hand, and listened when she talked, maybe it would be more.

After all, sometimes long-distance relationships had a way of working out. When Cassidy pointed to the ladies’ room and excused herself, Marcus scanned the tables until his eyes locked with Michael’s, then he headed in his direction.

Michael clapped him on the back. “Hey there. Seems like you’re having a good time.”

“I am. First wedding I’ve ever been to.”

Michael nodded toward Colin and Elle. “Probably won’t be your last.”

Colin rolled his eyes, and Elle slugged Michael on the shoulder.

“On that note, we’re going to grab some of those stuffed mushrooms I see passing by,” Colin said, pointing to a waiter with a fresh round of appetizers.

As they left, Michael dropped a hand on Marcus’s shoulder. “You doing okay?” he asked, his tone one of concern.

“As much as I can be okay,” Marcus said softly. “You know what it’s like.”

“That I do, man. That I do,” he said, squeezing his brother’s shoulder. Marcus’s father, Luke, was headed for trial soon, and it seemed all but a given that the man would be locked up. Marcus would then have both his biological parents in prison. He had a stepmom and lots of siblings who loved him, though.

“But everything else in life is good,” Marcus said, fixing on a smile. “And I am kicking ass in school.”

“You get that from me,” Michael said, deadpan.

Marcus scowled. “I thought Colin was the whiz kid.”

Michael laughed. “Yeah, just pretend it’s me, though. You gotta humor me. I took a bullet in my chest.”

Marcus’s eyes widened. “You’re still milking that?”

He nodded. “And I will for a long, long time.”

Later, Michael joined Sanders and Becky, who were chatting with his dad’s old friends. “Retirement treating you well, old man?” Michael asked.

“Best thing I’ve ever done,” Sanders said.

“Glad you got to see your dream come true,” Michael said, and he meant it from the bottom of his heart. The man might have bent the rules, but his sins were small, and thoroughly forgivable, especially since they’d been instrumental in putting an end to so much pain and hurt in the city around them. Michael had learned in the last several months that the world was sometimes split into good and evil, into black and white. But more often than not, people were shades of gray, like Sanders. He was still one of the good guys, though.

Michael’s attention wandered away from the two of them when a redhead in a slinky green dress and black heels winked at him from across the room. Her eyes seemed to sparkle, lighting up with mischief as she raised a finger to beckon him.

He excused himself, weaving through the crowds of friends and family, heeding the call of his woman.

“Bon soir,” she said in a sexy, low voice.

“Bon soir.”

“I found a broom closet.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Did you now?”

She nodded. “Want to see?”

“In a hotel full of rooms, we need a broom closet?”

She pouted. “But our room is on the fourteenth floor,” she said, since they’d booked one here for the night. “And that’ll take five minutes, maybe ten, to get to since the elevator is so far away.”

He looped his arm around her, brushing his fingers along her back and down to the curve of her lovely ass. He squeezed it. “That your way of telling me you want me now?”

She inched closer, pressing her breasts to his chest. Her camera was slung over her shoulder. “I do. Apparently weddings make me even hotter for you.”

“Can’t argue with that,” he said as she led him away from the reception and down the hall to the broom closet she’d unearthed for dirty deeds. She tugged him inside, shut the door, and set down her camera, then ran her hands along his chest.

She lingered on his scar, even through the fabric of his dress shirt. Three inches long and jagged, it rested under his pec. “It’s one of my favorite parts of you,” she whispered.

“Why is that?” he asked as he bent his head to her neck and kissed her throat, inhaling her scent.

She spread her fingers across the fabric. “Because it says you’re alive.”

He smiled against her skin, kissing her once more as his fingers found their way up the skirt of her dress. “So alive,” he said, then dipped his hand inside her panties.

She gasped, and he groaned. Quickly, he unzipped his pants and in seconds he was inside her, making love to her against the wall in a broom closet at his brother’s wedding. She looped her arms tightly around his neck, and he dug his fingers into her flesh, thrusting hard, taking her deep.

“Mark me with your words,” she said in a breathy whisper. “Like you wanted to that night in New York.”

He’d held back then, keeping them inside. He no longer had to. He brought his mouth to her throat, and kissed her hard, breathing out, “I’m so in love with you.”

He traveled along her neck, kissing and nipping, biting and sucking, each time giving voice to the words she wanted to hear, and the ones he wanted to say. They were one and the same.

“I’m so in love with you, too,” she said, crying out as he rocked his hips against her, filling her, fucking her, loving her, until they both came together again.

She was returning to Paris in a few days, and he wasn’t sure when he’d see her again, but he knew that he would, and that somehow they’d find a way to keep making their long-distance love work.