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Vegas Hearts	By : shockvaluegr Category: G through L > Kingdom Hospital Views: 796 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the television series that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Author�s Note: These characters are not owned by me, and I make no profit from their use.

Special thanks to Anne Backman, without whom this story would have been lost. And to Rella, for her guidance and keen eye.

That�ll be the Day

�Take good care of her, Pauli,� Ray said, putting a hand on Pauli�s shoulder. Cori stood away, arms folded. Here he was, running off to Las Vegas only a few days after their garage had exploded in gunfire. How could he seem so calm, unruffled? Ray bent to kiss her cheek, and took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. �Call you when I get checked in,� he said, trying to look into her eyes, but she kept them averted. For him to leave her behind with two of his thugs standing guard over her did not endear him to her.
�Yeah, yeah�� she flapped a sarcastic hand at him in dismissal.
Ray gave up, a dark cloud coming over his features, and he turned away, addressing Pauli again. �You and Holman take turns. I want somebody inside, and somebody outside at all times. And nobody falls asleep out there.� Cori rolled her eyes behind him.
�Sure. You got nothin' to worry about, Boss,� said Pauli.
�Good. If there's a change in plans I'll give you a call,� Ray said as he went out the door. He turned back for a moment. �Keep them fed, Cori,� he called, as if she needed to be reminded. Pauli cackled, and Cori glared at him.
Ray began to turn back and nearly collided with another man who had materialized out of the dark. �Hey, Frank. Keep an eye on things,� Ray said, and continued on his way to the long dark sedan waiting at the curb.

The man whom Ray had just addressed stood at the foot of the steps, looking back at him, then into the house at Pauli and Cori, as if he wasn�t sure which way to go, then shrugged and slowly climbed the steps. Cori looked him over with a critical eye. Low-life, her brain automatically spat out. And he looked it. His shirt hung unbuttoned and untucked, exposing his white undershirt, and a forelock of unkempt fair hair dangled over his forehead. He swaggered into her foyer with his head slightly ducked, looked at her from under heavy brow bones, and bobbed his head in what she supposed was a greeting. Then his gaze began to wander his surroundings with the covetous eye of the long-time thief. Oh my God, Cori thought, I can�t believe Ray is letting this guy in our house. Her rage at her husband flared again as she heard his car fading down the street. She tried to reassure herself, knowing that she had heard Ray speak of Holman before. She wished she could remember exactly what he might have said about this man who was now standing before her.
Pauli had drawn Holman aside and was acting the superior; detailing Ray's instructions. Holman was chewing gum, she noticed. She thought he looked small-time, like someone who hangs around the bowling alley and steals cars. He glanced at her and she recoiled inwardly. His eyes were so indescribably nasty that she felt threatened. This is great, she thought, he looks psychotic. She went into the kitchen and lit a cigarette.
A few minutes later, Pauli came looking for her. �Hey, doll,� he said, smiling in his ugly way. �Here's what we're gonna do. Me and Holman's gonna take turns outside. So don't worry, one of us is always gonna be watchin' out there.�

�Thanks, Pauli,� she said. Pauli could get on her nerves the same way he got on Ray's, but at least she knew him well. She felt that more now that there was a strange man in the house�a very strange man. She lowered her voice and gestured to the other room, �Is that guy all right?�
Pauli looked surprised. �Holman? He's okay, yeah�� he said lightly, unconvincingly. They heard the front door close as Holman exited for the first shift outside. Cori took a long pull from her cigarette and blew it ceilingwards. �He looks like he'd empty my jewelry box down his pants,� she said cynically.

Cori woke, feeling stiffness in her neck and wincing. She was still on the couch, in front of the TV. The channels had long since signed off and the sound of snow filled the room. She squinted at the clock to find it was almost three o�clock. The chair where Pauli had been sitting when she drifted off was empty. For a moment she felt mild panic flare; she was terrified to be left alone at night. But then she heard the front door close and relaxed; Pauli was coming back.
She turned and her heart jumped into her throat at the sight of Holman before she could remind herself that he was supposed to be there. He stood between the entryway and the living room, looking ill at ease as he stuck a cigarette between his lips and rummaged in his shirt pocket for a lighter. She felt uneasy in his presence, and mild despair as she realized he and Pauli had switched places, meaning Holman would be in the house with her for the rest of the night.

There was an uncomfortable tension in the room between them. Finally, Holman broke it. �You want me to turn that off?� he asked, his cigarette jittering at the corner of his mouth, as he at last located his lighter. Cori realized the endless static from the television was filling the room, and she nodded. His voice had been shockingly deep, curiously so, and her eyes followed him as he crossed the room and switched the television off, bringing a blanket of stillness to the room.
�Oh, sorry. Go ahead and sit down,� Cori waved at him as he stood hesitantly in the middle of the room. He sat in the chair, slouching far down into it, and smoked in silence for a few minutes. She noticed he held his cigarette with his thumb and two forefingers, like a joint. His shifty eyes darted around the room, and at her from time to time. Once, their eyes met briefly and he looked away, but the corners of his lips turned up subtly, as if he had thought of a private joke. He finished his smoke and slumped farther in the chair, his jaw working a piece of gum.
The weight of the silence in the room was becoming too heavy; Cori knew she had to make some attempt at conversation. �So�� she began, �Ray ever give you a job like this before?�

Holman looked at her from the depths of the chair for several beats, obviously not expecting talk. The his face broke into a slow grin and he laughed, a wry snicker. �No,� he said, looking somehow sheepish, �This is a little different than what I'm used to.� Cori thought his smile improved his face. It transformed its fierceness to something almost charming instantly.

From his window seat, Ray looked out into the dark. Far ahead he could see Las Vegas, a small cluster of lights twinkling in a limitless void of black desert. They would be landing within minutes. He looked at his watch. His flight had been delayed and he knew by now Cori would be fretting. He hoped she had not stayed up this late waiting to hear from him. No, surely by now she would have given it up and gone to bed, and either Pauli or Frank would be asleep on the couch while the other sat outside and watched.
He smiled to himself at the thought. Bartoli had once given him some advice: if you ever had to leave somebody watching over your wife and property while you were out of town, make sure he was an ugly son of a bitch, so you could be sure she wasn�t wasn't hiking her skirts for him. Ray's smile deepened; he almost chuckled to himself. He could hardly have chosen better than Pauli Taglia and Frank Holman in that regard. Not only did he trust them, they were ugly enough to stop clocks. There was not a man alive who would worry about his wife being tempted by either of them. He inserted a toothpick in the corner of his mouth and twirled it thoughtfully as the smile faded from his face. In the farthest recesses of his mind there was a niggling doubt.

Holman devoured the sandwich at a strangely methodical pace, his heavy jaw working slowly. Cori leaned against the refrigerator, watching him. He seemed to take his meal very seriously, frowning at his plate, rarely looking up.
�Sorry I didn't think to make you something before,� she apologized, �You shoulda said something.�
Holman shrugged and shook his head, his mouth too full to answer, his gesture letting her know it was forgivable.
Cori sighed and looked at the kitchen clock. Her eyes stung from lack of sleep and her body ached for bed, but Ray had still not called. But, she admitted to herself, that was only part of the reason she was still up. She felt a reluctance to go into her bedroom and undress, to lay prone and vulnerable in her bed while Holman was in the house. She told herself such thoughts were ridiculous, that Holman wouldn't be there if Ray didn't trust him, and that Holman himself surely knew that Ray would scatter his body parts through the streets of Chicago if he tried anything.
Staring at the kitchen wall and thinking this, Cori had herself reassured, but then she glanced at Holman and caught him looking at her, and something in her jumped.

He finished eating, and wiped his fingers on the ends of his shirt with no embarrassment whatsoever. Cori took his plate to the sink, where she washed and dried it, feeling certain that he was staring at her all the while. When she finished and turned around, he was indeed looking at her, poking a fresh cigarette into the corner of his mouth. He leaned back in the chair and narrowed his eyes at her.
�Aren't you ever gonna go to bed?� he asked insolently. Cori stared at him. Here was this stranger in her house asking when she was going to bed, as if she were inconveniencing him in some way.
Her firey nature ignited. �What's it to you?� she said, indignant. �This is my house.�
Holman was not put off in the least by her anger, as if people routinely spoke to one another so rudely. �Just wondered if you always stay up late like this,� he said in his low, gruff voice, sounding disinterested.
�Well, maybe I do,� she snapped, though she knew the circles beneath her eyes belied her words. Holman studied her through a haze of smoke. �I'm waiting for Ray to call,� she said, realizing she was contradicting herself and sounding flaky. Holman only half-stifled a belch and nodded, more to himself than to her. She tossed her hands up in self-conscious annoyance.

Just then, the phone rang, and she trotted to it. It was Ray, at last, explaining the flight delay. �Are you still up?� he asked, �You shoulda went to bed.�

�I was waiting to hear from you,� Cori said.

�You sound mad,� said Ray. �Is everything okay? The guys treating you all right?�

�Fine,� she said, as Holman got up and ambled over to her slowly.

�Let me talk to Frank,� Ray said. Without a word, Cori turned to Holman and held the phone out for him.

She stood back and watched him. Holman seemed to economize his speech down to as few words as possible. �Hey....yeah.....everything's cool.�� He turned and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. �Yeah....yeah.....okay....talk to ya later,� he finished. He hung up, turned back to her and said, �He said to tell you to go to bed.� Indignant and irritated at them both, she stared at him. �Go on,� he nodded toward the hallway that led to her bedroom. �I'll sleep on the couch.� He moved toward the couch but paused when she shot a defiant glare up at him.
�I'm going to bed because I'm tired, not because you or Ray tells me to,� she said strongly, to establish her sovereignty. She had an unexplainable inclination to show Holman that she was her own woman, that Ray did not make such decisions for her.
Holman looked down at her, his deep set eyes appraising her. �Okay,� he said at last, nodding as if humoring a mental subject. Cori turned and stalked from the room, retiring to her and Ray's bedroom alone.
�Good night,� Holman said to no one in particular, as he turned off a lamp and lay stretched out on the couch.

Cori did not sleep well that first night. No matter how she tried to drift off, she found herself listening for any noises within the house - sounds of Holman moving about - but the house was silent. This worried her even more. She wondered why Holman was such a distraction. Pauli had slept on their couch several times before, and she usually forgot he was even there, often being startled by his presence the next morning. But then, she knew and trusted Pauli. She had never been as intensely aware of a houseguest as she was now of Holman. The atmosphere of the house seemed full, saturated with his presence. She simply could not forget he was there. After an eternity of tossing on the bed, Cori fell into an exhausted sleep, her dreams frustrating, making little sense.

She slept late. When she rose at last, seeing the time and swearing, she scrambled out of bed and into the shower, realizing two people were waiting for breakfast. Scolding herself, she wrapped a towel around her head and scurried to the living room, where Pauli was watching television. No Frank.
�Oh, Pauli, I'm so sorry! I don't know how I slept so long. I'll make you something, just hold on.�
She was heading for the kitchen when Pauli stopped her with a laugh. �Hey, you don't gotta worry about nothin'. I already raided your fridge!�
Cori sank into the chair, holding her towel-wrapped head. �I guess I'm not doing too good at taking care of you guys, huh?�
Pauli waved away her self-criticism. �Aaa, that's okay. Frank said you were up late.�

�Where is he?� Cori asked, feeling a blend of relief and disappointment at his absence. The house seemed deflated now that he was not there, but more comfortable.
�I guess he went to get a shower or something, and probably grab some lunch,� said Pauli. She nodded, knowing that in the daytime only one of them was needed there. �He'll be back,� Pauli assured her. �When he gets here I'll go do the same.� Cori tensed slightly in nervous excitement; Holman would be there without Pauli.

�I don't know where he's at,� Pauli said, looking at his watch. Cori stood beside him in the driveway, chewing the inside of her lip. It was now late afternoon, and if Holman did not return soon, Pauli would have little time for his own ablutions. Cori's opinion of Holman had dropped even lower, if that were possible.

�Here he comes,� Pauli announced. Pauli's long black car approached, and swung abruptly into the driveway, so that Cori stepped back cautiously.

Holman emerged and Pauli started toward him with a good-natured grin plastered on his rubbery face. �I gotta go change, Frank! What in the hell took so long?�

Frank handed Pauli's keys to him. �I had to get cigarettes,� he muttered, with a crooked smile.
�Where from, Cleveland?� Pauli loudly joked from the car window as he backed out. Holman raised a hand in a lethargic wave as Pauli's car pulled away, then turned toward Cori and started slowly up the driveway. She noticed that he indeed held a carton of cigarettes in one hand. He sniffed and rubbed his nose with the back of the other, then looked up and appeared to notice her for the first time.

�Ah...the princess,� he rumbled. She frowned at his sarcasm as he came to stand before her. Seeing him for the first time in daylight, she was stunned momentarily at the blueness of his eyes even as she noticed in them that he was not entirely lucid. Not drunk, certainly, but he had been drinking. His eyes were not bleary from it but rather softened, their former intensity dulled to a languid depth that she found compelling.
Cori forced herself to break the gaze, her mind in an agitated whirl. She wanted to read this man the riot act, tell him what Ray would do if he knew that someone he had trusted to watch over his wife and home had gone off to get loaded. She was tempted to march into the house, call Ray in Las Vegas, and tell him herself. But Ray's business was his own, his associates were his to deal with. Holman knew she would not rat him out to Ray, and Pauli was unlikely to do so over a small offense. Holman was secure; both he and Cori knew it.
She forced herself to look back up at him, as he stood waiting with exaggerated patience for her to admit him into the house. �What are you gonna want for dinner?� she asked, sounding more put-upon than she intended.
His gaze was slowly moving over her face; down to her lips then back to meet her eyes. �I already ate,� he said simply. Unnerved by his scrutiny, she turned and went up the steps, unable to help wondering how he had judged her, and wondering why she cared.

Holman lounged lazily on the couch as she moved from room to room, trying to stay busy with a succession of small, mundane tasks. Whenever she passed through the living room, she felt his eyes upon her, until she wished he would turn the television on and give that his attention instead. But he seemed content to lie slothfully burning the last of the alcohol out of his blood, his intense gaze tracking her each time she crossed the room. For Cori, it went beyond uncomfortable to maddening after perhaps a dozen trips. With an armful of folded towels, she was just about to turn on him and ask what he was staring at when he spoke.
�Why don't Ray hire you a maid?�
Cori stopped and looked at him. There had been no facetiousness in his tone, only genuine curiosity.
�Hah, good question!� she said. There was a pause.

�Well...what's the answer?� Holman asked, stretching an arm back behind his head.
Cori's mind worked; the truth was she had never asked Ray to hire a housekeeper, it had never occurred to her. Suddenly, however, it seemed like a good idea. �Well, I don't know,� she stammered, �I guess I ought to be able to handle some housework,� she finished, realizing how unconvincing she sounded.
�Yeah, but do you want to?� Holman asked, his eyes fixed piercingly on hers. Cori stood, towels piled high in her arms, taken so unaware by this odd line of questioning that she had no idea how to answer. �I mean, Ray, he makes a lot of money. He oughta be able to hire a maid so his wife has time to do what she wants,� Holman went on.
Somewhere in there was an insult, Cori felt, but it did not escape her that twice already he had mentioned what she wanted. When was the last time Ray had asked what she wanted? �I'd do it for you�but it�s not what Ray hired me for,� Holman said, a smirk appearing on his face.
It was on the tip of Cori's tongue to say that Ray hadn't hired him to go kill half a bottle of Jack either, but she swallowed it. �Oh, yeah? What did he hire you for, then?� she sassed.
His smile broadened. �To watch you,� his deep voice purred.

Cori piled the towels in the cupboard, her mind so distracted she barely noticed she was putting them in stacks helter-skelter, instead of her usual neat, uniform piles. She replayed the short conversation over and over in her mind, analyzing the exchange. Was she crazy, or had Holman been hitting on her? Probably not, she told herself. He had asked about her housework out of extreme boredom. And yet, his eyes as he had said those last words, the way they had narrowed slightly and taken on an intense light...

She reentered the living room to find Holman had fallen asleep. Eyes closed, he lay stretched out with his arm behind his head, pillowing it. She paused in the doorway, almost holding her breath, afraid to make a sound, for fear of waking him and ruining her first chance to fully study him. She watched his chest rise and fall with the long shallow breaths of someone deeply asleep.
Her eyes explored his every feature. In repose, with his remarkable eyes shut, his face had a certain unusual nobility in the heavy brows, straight nose and strong jaw. Cori wasn't sure how she had seen him as ugly the night before. Did I really think that? she wondered, and recalled that she had.

Her eyes moved from his face to his body. He was dressed much the same as yesterday, with his shirt loose and open, his undershirt exposed. It clung to a lean, defined chest and flat stomach. Above the white shirt, the flesh of his chest was smooth, so different from Ray's hairy pelt. For an insane moment, she wondered how soft the skin was there. She pushed the thought violently from her mind, disturbed at herself, and backed a few steps away, down the hallway, one hand on the wall. He can�t be attractive to me! her mind wailed.

And yet, as if pulled by magnetic forces, she crept back up the hallway for another, irresistible chance to look at him unobserved. His left arm had fallen from the couch to dangle, the fingers nearly touching the carpet. She stared in fascination. His sleeve was pulled up past the elbow, revealing a lean, muscular upper arm. Gravity had distended the veins of his forearm and wrist. It was a strong arm, a masculine, brutal limb, and Cori felt a shot of adrenaline at the sight of it, enough to make her duck back to her bedroom.

As night fell, Pauli returned, his arms full of impromptu take-out food. Holman woke, stirring at the commotion of Pauli placing bags and boxes on the table. �Hey Frank, get offa the couch. I got Vito's. Where's Cori?� She came down the hallway, drawn by the aroma of good food.
�Aw, Pauli, you didn�t have to pick up anything, I was gonna cook,� she said, putting up her token protest.

�No, you weren't,� said Holman, deadpan, reaching for a bag. Pauli cackled.
While they both sat on the couch and ate from plates they held, Cori settled in the chair with her plate balanced on her knees. Holman feasted with the same studious intensity he had shown the night before, his attention focused almost solely on his food. Pauli turned on the TV and chatted to her through mouthfuls, but Holman was silent throughout the meal.
Afterwards, as she washed the dishes in the kitchen, Pauli and Holman smoked and talked in the living room. Cori strained to hear them over the running water, but they were talking quietly and only intermittently, and it seemed to her that they did not want her to hear. Her curiosity roused, she turned the faucet down so the water ran more quietly. But still she could only hear the low, deep rumble of Holman's voice, no words. How she wanted to eavesdrop! She had done so on Ray countless times. She turned off the water and stood listening.
�Yeah, that's tough�� commented Pauli, on something Holman had said previously. There was a long silence, broken only by Holman coughing once.

Cori waited, unmoving, for the conversation to pick up again.
�Talk to Ray?� Holman asked.

�Yeah, he says he's gonna stay an extra day,� said Pauli. Cori frowned. Why did Pauli know that before she did?

�Well...who's goin' out there first tonight?� said Holman.

�Why don't you go? You're the freshest - nappin' on the couch!� Pauli said, and Cori could hear the smile in his voice. She heard Holman�s unique snicker, and sounds of him rising from the couch.
She stepped back to the sink quickly and busied herself with the dishrag as he came in the kitchen. �Be outside,� he informed her as he passed through. He threw her a devilish sidelong glance, a smile full of mischief. Before she could react to his expression, he was out the front door. She cocked her head to one side, a slight smile playing upon her own lips. She had no idea what his look had been for, but could not help responding to it. It touched some long-dormant place inside, the nostalgic feeling reminiscent of a cute boy flirting with her in class behind the teacher's back. She shook her head in puzzlement, and found herself wishing he would not be outside; she was left with only Pauli for now. But she had an idea to make use of that time.
�Wanna play cards, Pauli?� she called.

Talking of mundane subjects with Pauli, Cori let an hour of cardplay pass, patiently biding her time. It would be unseemly and obvious if she brought up Holman the moment they sat down. But inside she was chafing, wanting to blurt out questions. They played poker, gin rummy, and had moved on to blackjack, using a bowl of coins for ante. The phone never rang with Ray�s long overdue call.

Cori tried to steer the conversation in the direction she wanted. �So, I guess you two have probably worked together a lot, huh?� she asked.

�Who, me and Holman?� said Pauli. �Yeah, we done a few jobs together.� He did not look at her as he said this, and Cori warned herself to be careful.

�Funny, I haven�t heard Ray mention him very much,� she said, as if hinting Holman might be less than trustworthy.

�Well, he was my pal,� Pauli said, putting a quarter in the pot. �I brought him in when Ray needed a bigger crew.�

�How do you know him?�

�Aaa, we did time in Joliet together,� Pauli said, brushing off the distasteful memory.

�He just doesn�t seem like someone Ray would work with,� she said carefully.

�Naa, Frank�s okay. He�s a little rough around the edges, but he gets the job done. Well, most the time,� he corrected himself and laughed, shuffling the cards.

�Whaaat�?� she wheedled, smiling at him in her best co-conspiratorial way.
Pauli seemed to have forgotten who he was talking to and bubbled over. �Frank�s had his last couple jobs go bad on him an' he's been tryin' to make it up to Ray.�

�Oh really? Why? What happened?� she asked, slightly wide-eyed, as if she were gossiping with other housewives.
Pauli dealt their hands and paused. �Well, he had that home invasion thing that went bad, then he lost Ray�s book he wanted.� Book? thought Cori, confused. Pauli saw her puzzlement and picked up his cards. �Hey, it doesn�t matter. Forget about it.�

Although she tried not to, Cori fell asleep on the couch again. She had given up on Ray�s call. As she drifted off she wondered about the home invasion Pauli had mentioned. What went wrong, and how had Holman been involved?
The next thing she knew, she was waking to the sound of Pauli and Holman talking by the open front door at their change of shifts. �She's asleep,� Pauli was saying quietly.

�You didn't jump her?� Holman said.

�No, she's saving herself for you,� Pauli joked, and wheezed laughter. They both snickered and chuckled for nearly a minute over this, unaware she was listening. She could not help smiling, and put a hand over her mouth lest she laugh as well. Holman's laugh was unorthodox and uninhibited, and it made her want to join in.

�See you in the morning Frank. Go easy on her,� Pauli said, bringing more hoarse, hushed laughter from them both. Then the sound of the door closing as Pauli went out.

Purposefully, Cori sat up on the couch just then, but Holman showed no surprise or shame that she might have heard his lewd joking with Pauli. �It's meee..� he said, announcing himself. He walked in slowly and slumped in the chair in his characteristic manner. Cori noticed he always moved as though he was worn out at the end of a long day. He had the manner of a whipped dog, and yet there was the contradictory intense gleam in his eye.
�So, how is everything out there?� she asked, wanting him to talk to her.
He puffed on his cigarette, holding it in his overhand way. �Oh, it's good. Ray sure moved to a boring neighborhood.�
�Yeah,� she sympathized, �Bet you'll be glad when this is over, huh?�

�Uh, I don't know,� Holman said, smiling at her. �It's easy, anyway. Almost no way to screw up.� Cori sat looking at Holman, chin in hand, wanting so much to be able to really talk to this man, to gain insight into his personality. What was his life like? Dangerous, certainly. What small pleasures did a man like Holman ever own? His was likely a rough, hard existence of high risk and sudden violence. But looking at him in her living room chair, it seemed so near impossible. Despite his savage face, his movements were so slow and lazy she could not imagine him capable of the aggression and swift reaction necessary for a life of violent crime, yet she knew he must be.
�You waitin' for Ray to call again?� he asked, smirking slightly.
�Oh, no, I just fell asleep out here,� she explained.
�Shit. I thought you were waiting up for me,� Holman said, his deeply set eyes sparkling with mischief. A pleasant thrill shot through Cori; her heart raced lightly, though she was not even sure she wanted to venture where the conversation might be going.
Just then, the phone rang from the table beside his chair. �That's Ray,� said Cori, almost grateful for a diversion. �You can answer it.�

Holman picked it up reluctantly. �Yeah, hey Ray....yeah, everything's still cool....he's outside...yeah�� He beckoned to Cori to come to the phone. �Here she is,� he said, and handed the phone up to her.

�What are you still doing up?� Ray asked her, sounding mildly annoyed. She could have asked him the same question, but bit her tongue.
�I fell asleep on the couch,� she replied shortly. She sensed Holman laughing beside her, and she looked down. Standing beside his chair, she was closer to him than she'd ever been before. Nervously she twisted her fingers in the phone cord, wishing it was long enough to permit her moving away from him a step or two. But it was not, and as long as she was on the phone she was trapped close by him.
�So, uh, you getting along okay?� Ray asked. Holman's eyes seared her and Cori looked away quickly.
Distracted, she tried to concentrate on Ray�s query. �Uh, yeah...fine,� she said. With a mixture of fear and anticipation, she watched as Holman took hold of her free hand and pulled her arm slowly towards himself. Shock and pleasurable anxiety rushed through her and she tried to jerk her hand away, but he was stronger. She met his eyes again, trying to read his intent. Pure devilment glimmered there, and she knew her outrage must be apparent in her own expression, because his smile spread wider. He continued to slowly pull her arm so that it was extended straight, his large hand firmly shackling her wrist.
In her ear, Ray was saying, �Good. Listen, sorry I didn't call today, I got a little tied up.� Cori barely heard him, mesmerized and apprehensive as Holman turned her arm, exposing the inside of her wrist and forearm to his scrutiny. He bent his head toward her arm and she stiffened.
�Cori?� Ray said in her ear.

�Yeah, okay,� she replied, having lost the thread of the conversation and hoping her answer was appropriate. Holman stopped with his face barely an inch from the vulnerable white skin of her forearm, and she realized he was following the scent of her perfume to the spot where she always dabbed it on the inside of her elbow.
�I know you weren't crazy about all this. I'll make it up when I get back, okay?� said Ray. Holman's grip on her wrist shifted slightly. Feeling her racing pulse, he looked at her and grinned deviously. Cori, in embarrassment, tried and failed again to pull her arm away from him.
�Sure,� she said, replying to Ray. They said their goodbyes, and at last she was able to hang up. The moment the receiver clicked back into its cradle, Holman released her. She turned to him, her mouth agape in astonished exasperation. She pulled her arm back and doubled it upon itself as though it were damaged. She could still feel where his hand had bound her throughout the call.
�Do you know he'd kill you if he saw you ever touch me?� she said, hoping her defensiveness masked the other emotions she was feeling. Holman laughed at her discomfiture. Why was he so maddeningly calm, sitting there slouched in the chair, as if he hadn't just put his hands on his boss' wife? Then it hit her. In his life of high risk, a world of danger with always the chance of sudden, violent death or injury, what he had just done was nothing, not even a blip on his radar screen of excitement. What had been a frightening thrill to her, enough to make her hands tremble, was to him a moment's ironic amusement. Realizing this, she was surprised to find she felt hurt, disappointed that he hadn't been nearly as affected by their contact as she had.

Cori closed her bedroom door. After a moment, she reached back and locked it. As she readied for bed, she replayed the phone incident in her mind and began to think she might have overreacted to it. After all, he had merely taken her wrist and sniffed her perfume, he hadn't grabbed her ass. She crawled into bed and put a hand over her eyes in agony. She was making such a fool of herself! What did he think of her outrage? His discovery of her racing pulse�that had been for his own amusement and was most humiliating. How horrible to have been so transparent to him in that moment.
She tossed onto her side, agitated. It made her angry to be embarrassed. Part of her wanted to march out there where he slept on the couch and smack him belatedly for the humiliation. But the other part of her, the part she was having trouble with, was disappointed that all he had done was inhale her perfume. For one heart stopping moment, as his face had neared her arm, she had thought wildly that he would kiss her there. What would it take to excite someone like Holman? Apparently not sniffing the perfumed arm of his boss's wife, she thought wryly. Surely he had already forgotten the incident; he might remember later only to laugh about it with Pauli before it left his memory forever.

After tossing for nearly an hour, Cori got out of bed with a feeling of irresistible inevitability, sensing his strong presence within the house as she had the night before. Cinching her robe tightly about her body, she opened her door and padded silently down the dark hall, stopping a few paces short of the living room. She was losing her nerve; she almost turned and scurried back to her room. All the lights were off, and no sound issued from the living room. Biting her bottom lip in thrilled apprehension, she moved forward one step at a time.

He was asleep. She drew in a tiny, soundless gasp at the beauty of him. He was shirtless, that garment draped over the back of the couch, and his pants were unbuttoned, for comfort, she assumed. His upper body froze her with its perfection. In an urban approximation of moonlight, the streetlight shone through the sheer drapes to glimmer across smooth waves of abdominal muscles and taut biceps. One hand rested across his stomach, his fingertips reaching just past where his pants would have been buttoned. His head was turned to the side and Cori was struck again by the unique dignity of his slumbered profile.
She stared, barely remembering to breathe, trying to get her fill of the sight and knowing she never could. Her eyes descended to the V of his undone trousers. The tops of his rugged hips were visible, as well as more flat, chiseled muscle, disappearing away under the black trousers. Cori did not know how long she stood there, transfixed. A car went by on the street, the only sound in the world. Holman never moved, only his lean stomach rising and falling gently beneath his hand. He slept so quietly for a man; no snorting, snoring or grunting, no shifting around. She could not even hear him breathe.

She wasn't sure what her intent had been in coming to him, and she reluctantly took her leave, backing down the hallway. Back to her bedroom, where she closed the door, but did not lock it.
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Vegas Hearts