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Vegas Hearts	By : shockvaluegr Category: G through L > Kingdom Hospital Views: 793 -:- 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
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See You in September

Days passed into weeks, then months. Cori had recovered from her initial obsession and sense of loss, but Holman still haunted her. She had accepted that she would never see him again, and yet somehow he crept into her thoughts on a daily basis. He was as opposite Ray as anyone could be. When she looked into Ray's dark eyes, she was disappointed and vaguely annoyed that they were not the piercing, intense blue of Holman's eyes. When Ray made love to her, in her mind the chest above her was not his thickly furred one, but Holman's athletic, soft-skinned one. Ray's voice had none of the depth nor power of Holman's speech. Ray stood straight and tall, Holman had always slumped lazily. At times, she hated Ray for simply not being Frank Holman.

A long, hot summer rolled in. Cori had begun to loathe her house, and pushed Ray for the move to Las Vegas. Holman would never come back to Chicago; she saw little motivation to stay in the one place she knew he would never be. Most often she wondered Where is he now? How far had he gone, and in which direction? How was he living? Had he in fact been caught somewhere else, in some other state where she would never read about it in the newspaper? What if he had been killed? She would never find out. Often she lay awake at night and tried to imagine where he might be at that moment. Surely by now he had long forgotten her. He would be in another city, another state, and perhaps he was sleeping peacefully in the heat, as peacefully as he had slept on her couch for those three nights she could not forget.

And then, at last, she got word of him in dramatic fashion.

One night as she watched a game show on TV, Cori heard Ray's Cadillac pull into the driveway, followed by the sound of both car doors slamming. She sighed and got up from the couch. He had brought Pauli home and would now expect some dinner. As she entered the kitchen, there was a jarring crash on the carport, the sound of crockery breaking. Cori darted to the door. Ray had kicked one of her large flowerpots off the ledge and was pulling back to deliver a death blow to another.
�Hey, hey, take it easy, Ray�� Pauli was attempting hopelessly to calm Ray, standing before him with his hands spread.
�Son of a BITCH!� shouted Ray, loudly enough that Cori glanced around the neighborhood. He began to pace in tight, fast circles, an action she knew well meant he was frightfully enraged. �I always knew I couldn't trust him! That piece of shit!� he ranted.
�Ray, come on,� said Pauli, moving closer and trying to put a calming hand on his arm.
Ray flung it off. �Holman!� Ray exploded at him in fury. �YOUR goddamn friend!� At the name, Cori's eyes widened and she stiffened in the doorway. My God, what the hell happened? she thought wildly. Ray was blowing and huffing like a high-strung stallion and Cori admired Pauli's valor for continuing to approach him.
�Ray, I can't believe it. No way, no way Holman's gonna roll over on you.�

�He already is, dummy! Are you deaf? Didn't you hear Bartoli?� Ray gestured violently with one hand.
Pauli put a hand on Ray's shoulder, where it could not so easily be flung away. �Ray, let's go inside. We don't need to be talkin' 'bout this out here.� Ray came back to himself then, glancing next door, then at his own front door where he saw Cori standing. Even from the dozen or so feet away, she could see the fury burning in his eyes and she shrank away, afraid he would turn his wrath upon her for listening.
She hurried to the kitchen as Ray and Pauli came inside. Pauli was muttering to Ray, something Cori could not quite catch but was intended to be soothing. Ray would have none of it, waving an angry hand at him. �Shut up, Pauli. I don't wanna hear it.� He stormed in and stood for a moment, his quick, agile mind working. Finally he turned to Cori. �Get out. I gotta make a phone call.� Then to Pauli, �You too. I don't wanna look at you right now.�
�Ray�� Pauli began, plainly hurt.
Ray exploded, �I SAID GET OUTTA HERE! Both of you!�

Cori led the way outside, Pauli following. She went to the broken flowerpot and bent to gather the shards. �Pauli, what happened?� she asked.
�Ray kicked it,� Pauli said.
Cori closed her eyes; she could see how Pauli tried Ray's patience. �I can see that,� she said, trying not to bite her words off too sharply. �I mean, what happened?�
Pauli rubbed his forehead with his fingertips, looking frazzled. �Torello caught Holman,� he said simply.
Cori let her mind absorb this for a moment in silence. The first question that sprang to mind- �Is he okay?�- she dared not ask. She carefully marshaled her thoughts, sorting though what she could ask and what she could not. �Where?� she asked, the easiest of the bunch.
�They caught him in Gary, but they brought him back here,� Pauli said. He looked downcast, and she realized he was sorry for his friend. Gary, Indiana. It was so close! Had he only gone that far all this time? She could hardly believe that. He was here- in Chicago! - though in jail. She was filled suddenly with the most ridiculous excitement, and could hardly stand still.
�When?� she asked.
�I dunno. Maybe yesterday, day before that,� said Pauli.
Cori looked sightlessly out towards the street, imagining Holman being arrested in various situations, in assorted stages of cooperation- from quiet compliance to violent confrontation. How had it gone? She was worried about Holman, concerned he might have been hurt by Torello. After all, hadn�t Frank told her of Torello punching him in his jail cell? She stood with her fingertips pressed to her lips, fretting for Holman's well-being.
Then, in a flash she remembered the major point of the conversation. �Why�s this all got Ray so pissed?� she asked.
Pauli shook his head, as if doubting his own words. �Mr. Bartoli says Frank�s rollin' over, makin' some kinda deal.� Cori blinked. Though she scarcely knew Holman, she had gotten the distinct sense that he was a stand up guy, trustworthy if nothing else. Pauli was still shaking his head. �I don't believe it. Frank'd never do that.�

Cori fought her disillusionment, reminding herself that in fact she did not know Holman at all and had no way of knowing if this betrayal would be out of character. However, from everyone's reactions, most especially Pauli�s, she had the impression that it was a shocking blow to them. What could have made Holman make such a dramatic turn?
As if reading her thoughts, Pauli said, �They musta tortured him, for him to roll over like that. Torello��
Cori made a disbelieving face. �Pauli, they don't torture people.�
Pauli gave her a knowing look. �Torello would.� Cori could not believe that this Torello was as much of a monster as Pauli portrayed. She hoped not, for Holman's sake. She stared blankly across the street, grappling with the weight of all this new unsettling information.
�Bartoli wants Holman whacked,� Pauli said low, almost to himself.
A knife edge of panic slashed at Cori's heart. �What?� she said.
Pauli looked at her and knew he had unveiled too much. �Let's go back inside. Ray's probably off the phone by now.�

The following weeks were among the most chaotic in Cori's life, and certainly in her marriage to Ray. Ray's moods were deadly; her own not much better. Ray�s stress was rooted in the fact that he was indicted along with Bartoli and Pauli. Cori�s sprang from her expectations that she might at any time hear of the shooting death of a prospective federal witness. She did not know why, after all these month of not even seeing Holman, that it should disturb her that Holman might be killed. After all, he was a man she had only known for three days out of her life. Yet she was almost physically sickened by the thought. Cori wondered if Ray himself would arrange the hit on Holman. She could hate him for that.

Somehow, in the midst of trial preparations, Ray managed to purchase their house in Las Vegas, and put their current home on the market. Cori was full of uncertainty, but Ray insisted that she proceed with the move as if the trial were not looming over them all.
The weeks wore on, and Cori read in the newspapers of the crimes her husband was charged with, along with those of Holman. None came as much of a surprise to her. Cori took her time packing their household away. Ray wanted her moved by October; she was to go on ahead to Las Vegas and he would follow at the conclusion of the trial. Cori did not tell Ray that she had no intention of being in Las Vegas the day Holman took the stand. She wanted to be there, to see him one more time. So she deliberately stalled, fabricating excuses and delays, trying to time it perfectly so that she would be nearly ready to move when the trial started....but not quite. Ray harassed her, confused and frustrated that she was in no hurry to move to their beautiful new house, since she had pestered him for over a year for it. Ray threw up his hands in disgust at her, and finally urged her to pack only personal items; he would buy all new furniture for the new house. Still, she dragged her feet. The desire to see Frank Holman again, if only once and for the last time, took priority.

Cori slipped into a courtroom seat near the back, and quickly located Ray, who sat with fellow defendants Pauli Taglia and Phil Bartoli. He was unaware of her entrance. She knew he would be furious with her for coming, he had told her quite plainly her presence was unnecessary and unwelcome. To see Holman, she had defied him. Her hands trembled slightly as she waited. Part of her was afraid that when she at last laid eyes on Frank, whatever had drawn her to him so many months ago would have gone, the infatuation over. What if she looked at him and felt nothing, or worse yet, disappointment? Perhaps she had built him up too much in her fantasies all this time. No man could live up to such idealization.

�The prosecution calls Frank Holman,� the voice rang out. Cori tensed, her heart fluttering like frightened birds' wings. Holman was brought in, wearing a black suit that contrasted ironcially with the gleaming handcuffs about his wrists, which were removed as he took the stand. He sat down slowly, casting a guilty eye at the jury, as if knowing they had already judged him.
Elated, Cori's eyes darted all over him, wanting to take into memory as much as possible. Not only did he not disappoint her, he looked even more handsome than she had recalled. The clothes he wore, so much classier than his own wrinkled, unbuttoned shirts, did much to enhance the facade of respectability his lawyers were striving for. But there was something in his manner, perhaps the way he slouched forward in his chair, that belied the classy image, and Cori suppressed a fond smile.

Holman was clearly nervous to be facing Ray Luca in court. Taking the oath, his eyes flickered all about, as if he were reluctant to make eye contact with anyone. It lent him an even shiftier demeanor, and Cori saw the jury eye him with evident mistrust. She looked at the back of Ray�s head, wishing she could see his expression. She realized again that no one had followed through with the proposed hit on Holman, and gratefully sent a silent thanks to her husband. Turning back to Holman, she drank him in as a desert wanderer might fall upon an oasis of clear water, filling herself with the sight of him.

Holman, visibly uncomfortable, played with the end of his narrow black tie as he waited for the direct examination to start. Cori wondered if he had seen her in the back of the courtroom and guessed that he had not, although he would likely show no reaction if he had. He was too occupied with the daunting task of testifying against Bartoli, Ray, and his friend Pauli. He doesn't want to do this, Cori thought. He'd rather be anywhere else in the world.

The examination began. Hearing his voice again, Cori was transported many months back, remembering how it had sounded in her ear. Low-pitched and deep, his voice commanded attention in the courtroom, even with the simplest of his answers. While focusing on Brietel's line of questioning, he kept his head down slightly, looking at the attorney from under his brows. Cori had the feeling he was not winning many points with the jury; doubtless they were judging him as a reprobate on this first impression, just as she had. But then Holman made a joke, and laughter rippled through the court, including the jury box and the defendants. Holman, feeling their reaction towards him soften, smiled slightly, his eyes narrowing in the barest hint of the devilish sparkle she remembered. Cori smiled from her own memories of that look, and gladness that he yet retained his irreverent charm. She had the distinct feeling that given enough time, he could have smoothed the jury over completely with his unlikely charisma, but unfortunately, his testimony was kept to a minimum. Charismatic or not, he nonetheless exuded a palpable shiftiness.

All too soon for Cori, Holman�s testimony came to a close and he was again handcuffed and taken out of the courtroom. Cori saw that Ray stared at him as he was walked past, as did Pauli. Ray's face was blank, unreadable. Bartoli never looked at Frank, as if he were beneath him. Holman was careful to make eye contact with none of them as he walked by, eyes darting up only occasionally. Cori wished to signal him somehow as he went past her, to give him support. But to do such a thing would be beyond reprehensible, and would bring wrath from Ray the likes of which she had never seen.

Wrath was what she faced that night. Ray, furious at her direct refusal of his command that she not come to the trial, reached the end of his fuse and blew up. He yelled that he had enough problems right now without his wife hanging around. She was not to be in town when the trial ended, for reasons that were none of her goddamn business, according to him. He pulled suitcases from the closet and yanked double handfuls of her clothes off the hangers, throwing it all on the bed and the floor, saying that her flight to Las Vegas left tomorrow, and she would be on it.

The new home in Las Vegas took her breath away. Ray had described it well, but nothing could have prepared her for the mirrored walls, the spaciousness, the ornate swimming pool with the rearing horse sculpture standing on an island in the middle. She began to truly comprehend the heights to which Ray had risen. And so quickly. They had only moved into their last home six months before- and already now to this lavish estate.
Remembering Frank's suggestion, Cori immediately hired a maid, so all her time would be free. Each morning that she awoke, sat up in bed and saw herself reflected a dozen times in her mirrored bedroom walls, she was astonished all over again that this was really her house. I live here, she told herself over and over, to make herself believe it.

Her first night in Las Vegas, Max Goldman welcomed her to town by Ray's instruction, taking her on a polite tour of Ray's new casino, the Lucky Star, then to dinner with himself and his wife Joanne. Cori struck up an easy friendship with both Goldmans from the start. Max was chivalrous in a cheauvanistic sort of way, and funny. Joanne was shallow and silly, and Cori looked forward to shopping with her.

Within a week, Ray arrived, leaving Chicago behind forever and looking on top of the world. Everyone had been acquitted of all charges, thanks mostly to Torello debunking Holman's already implausible testimony. Cori sat and sipped a glass of champagne as Ray, smiling broadly, generously detailed what a liar Frank was, and how funny it had been that Torello had been dragged into the trial with the likes of himself. And Torello, left behind in Chicago, could only shake his fist at Ray now that he was out of his reach. Cori could not recall ever seeing Ray so ebullient. Pauli was simply Pauli, mirroring Ray's every mood, overflowing with happy excitement like a kid on Christmas morning.

Cori spent her days adjusting to the extreme change in lifestyle. She had absolute free time. From the moment she woke up to the time her head hit the pillow at night, she did whatever she wanted. She lounged by the pool for hours, trying to rid herself of her conspicuous Chicago pallor. With Joanne Goldman she shopped, and often the two of them went to the Lucky Star, where Ray would give them chips to play with. Whether she won at the tables or not made no difference- it would never be noticed either way. She bought a purebred toy puppy for companionship in the big house. Quickly she fell in love with Las Vegas- loved its shine and glamour, loved the dark and lonesome desert around it with its sage scented winds.
But gradually she came to see that the price tag of this new life was an absent husband. In Chicago, Ray had come home late many nights and occasionally left town on short trips; in Las Vegas he stayed out all night three or four nights a week, sometimes more. He would sleep in his private suite at the Lucky Star, and Cori slept alone in the mirrored bedroom, with only reflections of herself for company. She began to stay up late and sleep till mid-morning, as most high rollers in Vegas did. And slowly, despite the

wonderful house, the limitless spending money and no shortage of entertainment, boredom crept in, followed by the beginnings of loneliness. Oftentimes, as she sat alone in the house, playing records, she would drift away. And remember Frank Holman. A look, a recalled bit of dialogue, something about him would come back to her and she felt a twinge in her soul.

One night Cori sat watching a game show, dully chewing her fingernails. She had come back from playing at the Lucky Star crap tables with Joanne Goldman only a short time before. Cori had wanted to stay out later, reluctant to return to the lonely luxury of her home so soon, but Joanne had said she had a headache. Ray had not been at the Lucky Star; Cori assumed he was hard at work on the acquisition of another casino on the strip. So she had come home, kicked off her heels and curled up on the couch, trying to wind down by watching the new color television, but still feeling restless for something better to do. During commercial breaks, she stared at the fish in the large aquarium, hoping their slow, sinuous movements would lull her.

She heard voices approaching the front door. Ray and Pauli laughing. She sighed, almost grateful. Perhaps Ray would actually stay at home tonight and she would not be alone after all. She turned and watched through the fish tank as the front door opened and Ray entered, followed by Pauli, and then a third man. Her head came up off the cushion abruptly. She blinked, sure that her view through the fish tank behind her couch must have deceived her. But then the man laughed, and she knew from the irreverent snicker that it was Frank Holman. Somehow, he was here, in Ray's company. Cori's mouth dropped open in shock at the manifestation of what should have been impossible.

�She's around here somewhere,� Ray was saying. Heart hammering, Cori jolted herself from her stupefaction and rose from the couch to come around the aquarium on legs that felt unsteady. She could never have concealed the shock she felt at seeing this trio, and all three men laughed at her expression as she approached.
Holman was injured, his white undershirt torn and stained with dots and smudges of blood that had recently fallen there from a split lip. There was a bruise on his forehead, and another on his cheekbone near his right eye. His hair was a tousled mess. He was smiling, that same mischievous smile that had thrilled and haunted her. Speechless, Cori could only shake her head, her brain denying what her eyes saw. The only way she could rationalize Holman's presence would be if Ray had brought him here to kill him, but that was negated by the way all three were smiling so chummily together, like frat boys sharing a good raunchy joke. Ray laughed at her and gestured for her to come closer.
She did, and her eyes met Frank's gaze. In his eyes she saw what seemed an insane kind of joy, something near foolish ecstasy, and she knew that Ray had let him live. �Cori, Frank needs to get cleaned up. We're going out for a drink, and he can't go looking like he just got beat up,� Ray said, laughing ironically. Pauli cackled loudly and gave Frank a friendly shove, which sent Frank into another of his patented delinquent snickers.
�Oh! Okay...Come on, Frank,� Cori said, and led the way for Holman, looking back to be sure he followed her.

Her heart was thudding uncomfortably from the incredible shock of the situation and being completely unprepared to be in his powerful presence again. She purposely led him to the bathroom furthest from the living room. Just before turning on the light for him, Cori stopped and turned to face him. He seemed unfazed by his injuries and she guessed that he would feel them more later, when the rush of adrenaline had faded. He looked down at her, waiting, one corner of his mouth curving back in a playful smile.
�How...what the hell are you doing here?� she blurted in a forceful whisper.
He laughed. �I came to see you,� he teased, and wiped the bloodied corner of his mouth with the back of one hand.
�You did not�� Cori mock argued, amazed. He shrugged. She shook her head at him, a smile slowly spreading on her own face in response to his, knowing she was looking at a walking miracle. She wanted to ask him more questions- there was so much she wanted to know- but she knew Ray and Pauli were waiting for him, so instead she turned on the bathroom light and began running cool water over a washcloth.

Holman entered the small room hesitantly. Cori raised the wet cloth to him, expecting him to take it from her and soothe his own injuries, but instead he placed both hands on the countertop and leaned, waiting. The wounds to his face were all on the right side, she noticed, and she knew her left-handed husband had inflicted them. She gently dabbed his lip and wiped the blood from his chin. Turning the cloth, Cori raised it to swab gently at the abrasion on his cheekbone, close by his eye. He closed his eyes at the cool touch. Cori pressed it there softly, acutely aware of what she was doing. She swallowed nervously, afraid he would sense her tension.
Moving the cloth to the bruise on his forehead, Cori held it gently there, hoping to ease the swelling. Holman's eyes remained closed, as if he were reveling in her attention, having finally found something of tenderness and softness after such brutality. He drew a deep breath and exhaled shakily. From the sound, Cori realized how terrified he must have been earlier that night, and how sure he must have been of his own impending death. Sympathetic and touched, her heart went out to him. She ran the cloth's cool softness down his cheek and along his jaw in a caress, causing him to open his eyes and look into hers. �Better?� she asked softly.
Holman responded by putting a hand impulsively around the back of her neck, and leaned quickly in to kiss her. His lips met hers smoothly with an insistent pressure, then just as quickly he released her. Cori was too astonished at his quick move to resist, and stunned that he would do such a thing, no matter how briefly, with Ray in the house. With the bathroom door open, yet.
�Boy, have you got some kind of nerve!� she said, not in offense but in awe of his boldness. Cori could scarcely believe that, having just had his life spared by Ray, he would tempt fate so dangerously. She saw how careless he was with his life, he seemed to get an enormous charge from the excitement of risking it. He had made a colossal gamble and won earlier tonight; evidently he felt he was on a roll.
Holman leaned both hands on the counter again and smiled. �Just happy to be alive,� he said in justification.

Cori tentatively dabbed Holman's lip again; the pressure of the kiss had caused it to bleed anew. She wished now that he had not pulled away from her so soon, she had not even gotten her wits about her enough to kiss him back.
�I can't believe you came out here!� said Cori, unable to restrain herself. �All the way to Vegas. I mean, do you know how lucky you are...?� she did not finish, knowing he understood that he was fortunate Ray had not killed him on sight for his betrayal. Holman stared at his reflection and nodded. Cori rinsed the washcloth and looked at his bloodstained, torn undershirt. Holman followed her gaze in the mirror. He pulled up the shirt to reveal a recently inflicted large reddish bruise on his ribs.
�Which one of 'em hit you?� Cori asked.
�Uh, both,� said Holman. �Ray, mostly.� Cori felt a small surge of anger at her husband for that, even though she knew Holman had gotten away incredibly lucky. �I got Pauli back, though,� said Holman, and snorted laughter.
Cori laughed with him, happy for his small victory. �You gonna be all right?� she asked.
Holman started to button his shirt over the stained undershirt to conceal it. �Oh, yeah. We're all goin' out. Ray wants to show me the Lucky Star.� Cori watched him in admiration, amazed and impressed by his coolness. He looked like a kid who'd only been in a schoolyard scuffle, instead of someone who was fortunate not to be lying in a shallow grave. He gave her another sidelong glance, and turned to leave.
In the hall, he paused. �I saw you in court,� he said, his face shadowed in he dark.
Cori was surprised. At the trial she had never once seen him look at her. It was on the tip of her tongue to confess to him that she had only gone to see him, but she held back, feeling that would be revealing too much. She opted to be flippant with him. �Yeah, well, none of us should have been there at all,� she said, arching an eyebrow at him, reminding him of his blame.
Holman leaned close, putting a hand on the wall behind her. �Do you forgive me?� he asked, his voice deeply silken. In the dark hallway, she could just see the intensity of his eyes. He was genuinely interested in her answer.
�Hey, if Ray can forgive you, I sure won't hold out!� she teased, smiling. He laughed and started back down the hallway.

Walking behind him, Cori noticed for the first time that his clothes were dusty; obviously he had been on the ground at some point that night. She wished feverishly that she could have more time with him, there was so much to ask about his encounter with Ray.

As they reentered the living room, Holman looked around, beginning to notice the house itself. Ray and Pauli were seated and had produced drinks for themselves. Ray was still smiling and gestured at Cori as she came in the room. �Cori, you should have seen your face when we brought Frank in. You looked like you'd seen a ghost,� he chuckled into his glass.
�We still goin' out, Boss?� asked Pauli.
�Yeah, don't worry, we're goin', Pauli. First, I thought we'd let Frank see how we're livin' these days.�

Holman wandered over to the large wall of windows and looked out at the pool, lit up like a turquoise jewel in the dark. He studied the enormous horse sculpture on the island in the center of it, and the small TV Cori had left at its feet that afternoon. �Jesus...it's like a country club or somethin',� he remarked. Cori stood off to one side, by the stone wall. She could still feel the touch of his lips on hers, and although it had been so brief, it made her blood race. She was sure she blushed, and turned slightly away from Ray.
�Hey, Cori. You'll never guess where we found Frank,� said Ray, catching her attention again.
�Where?� she asked, taken aback by Ray's jovial talkativeness.
�He was on stage, singin',� Ray laughed.
Cori looked at Frank. He ducked his head and smiled, fingering the bruise on his cheekbone. �You sing?� Cori asked.
Ray answered for him. �Yeah. And he's terrible,� he laughed again.
�He's not that bad, Boss,� said Pauli, coming to Frank's defense. Cori grinned at Frank, trying to imagine him on stage.
�It's a good thing you're back in, Frank. You'd never make it with that voice of yours,� said Ray, taking a good-natured jab at Holman's act.
Holman felt in his pockets. �Shit. I musta lost my cigarettes.�
Ray got up and put his empty glass aside. �Let's go. I wanna show Frank our new baby. I'll set you up a suite there, Frank. You can stay there until you find an apartment or something.� Cori was dumbfounded by Ray's generosity. He seemed sincerely glad that Holman was back.

Cori wished that she could go with them to the Lucky Star as they showed it off to Frank, but she knew that at some point they would begin to talk business and her presence would be an inconvenience. She followed the three men to the double front doors to see them out. Although she was sorry to see them go, she was so thrilled with the turn of events that it was easy to say goodbye. �Be careful, guys,� she said, hanging in the doorway. Holman, trailing Ray and Pauli by a few steps, looked back over his shoulder and gave her a playful smile. She waved to him and closed the door.

Alone, she leaned her back against the doors and closed her eyes. In the most incredible turn of events, Frank Holman had been thrust back into her life. He would be working for Ray again.

She went out by the pool and walked around it in the chilly night air. She paced, trailing her fingers off plants she passed, inhaled deeply of the desert air until it bit her lungs. Finally she sat down at the edge of the pool, gazing down into the clear blue water, still in a state of happy shock. He had kissed her. He had said he had done it because he was glad to be alive, and Cori believed that, but she also wanted to believe that he had done it to show her he had not forgotten her over the long months they had been apart.
She stuck her stockinged feet into the warm pool water and kicked gently, enjoying the smooth pull of the liquid on her ankles and between her toes. Laying back on the hard ground, feet still in the water, she stared up at the Nevada night sky. She felt Holman's lips on her own again, so soft� and far too quick. Covering her mouth with a hand, she blinked at the stars and made a small sound to herself, smiling. She could not recall the last time she felt so fresh and giddy, so alive. Everything stood out with outstanding clarity to her, her every sense reaching.
She would see him again.
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Vegas Hearts