More Than a Man - Rebecca York

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dry, and the night sky was filled with a million stars. But no casino relied on nature for outdoor effects. The hedges and flower beds were illuminated by cunningly placed floodlights.

      The garden was designed to please the senses. Annual and perennial flowers filled well-tended beds that bordered stone paths. Each plot held a pleasing mix of colors and textures, many of the blooms perfuming the air.

      She inhaled deeply, glad to be out of the stale casino atmosphere. Trying to come up with something to say, she murmured, “I love the way they laid out the garden in a pattern. I guess they hired a fancy landscape architect.”

      “Maybe. But whoever did the design copied it from Versailles.”

      She tipped her head toward him. “Have you been there?”

      “Several times.”

      No one else was outside, she noticed. The garden apparently wasn’t as much of an attraction as the casino.

      When she pressed her hands against her sides, he said, “What’s bothering you?”

      The direct question startled her. In her experience, guys didn’t care about an attractive woman’s personal problems.

      “How do you know something is bothering me?”

      “The way you hold your shoulders.”

      “Really?”

      “Maybe I can help.”

      Could he?

      Before she could reply, a man rushed from the shadows. He was holding a gun, which he pointed directly at Noah Fielding.

      “I finally found you, you bastard,” he growled. “Hold it right there.”

      Noah cursed under his breath, and Olivia thought she heard him mumble, “Not again.”

      At the same time, he thrust her behind himself, putting his body squarely between her and the gunman.

      “Move,” the attacker said. “Both of you.”

      “Leave the lady out of this,” Noah replied, his voice low and even.

      In the part of her mind that still functioned rationally, she marveled at his calm. She had to stiffen her legs to keep from falling over.

      “I’m giving the orders,” the gunman said. “Hands up. Move to your right.”

      Somehow, she did what he demanded, but as she raised her hands, she was thinking there must be guards out here and security cameras. If guards came running, though, would they just get her and Noah shot?

      “Take it easy,” Noah said.

      He was talking to the gunman, but his calm, even voice helped steady her as she moved to her right, into a rectangular space formed by a hedge and a wall that enclosed one of the luxury villas for the high rollers.

      Noah tried to keep his body between her and the gunman as they stood facing each other in the little courtyard, but the man maneuvered them so that she was terribly exposed.

      She glanced sideways at Noah. He wasn’t even breaking a sweat. The other man was breathing heavily. Maybe he’d have a heart attack and drop the gun so they could escape.

      “If you do anything to hurt this woman, you will be very sorry,” Noah said, punching out the words.

      “Her bad luck that she was with a scum like you.”

      She saw Noah clench the fists held above his head. He looked like he wanted to lunge at the gunman, and to hell with the consequences. Maybe he would have if he’d been alone. Instead, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

      “Are you after my winnings?” he asked.

      The man gave a harsh, nervous laugh that scared her as much as the gun. This guy was on the edge of doing something very foolish.

      “You wish. You’re going to pay a lot more than any winnings. You’re going to pay for what you did to my brother,” the attacker bit out.

      “Who is your brother?”

      “You damn well know.”

      “Just tell me,” Noah said, sounding weary.

      “Eddie Carlson.”

      Noah sighed. “I’m sorry for what happened.”

      The man snorted. “Oh sure. You killed him.”

      “No.”

      “Then why is he dead and you’re alive?”

      Noah’s jaw tightened, and she waited for him to say something devastating to the man. Something that would let him know for all time that his brother’s death had been his own fault.

      As she watched, Noah’s expression changed. When he began to speak, his tone was regretful. “There’s always risk with an experimental venture. It was damn bad luck that the sub got stuck in that crevice. I’ve had a lot of deep-sea training and I’ve done a lot of exercises that make me able to survive on much less oxygen than normal. It’s the same kind of technique that a magician relies on when he’s locked in a box underwater. The rest of the crew didn’t have that training.”

      Apparently Carlson still wasn’t convinced. “So you say. But if you’re not guilty of anything, why did you give each of the widows a million bucks? That’s three million dollars you gave away.”

      Olivia goggled. Three million dollars?

      Noah spread his raised hands. “I didn’t have to give them the money. But I felt a moral obligation because I funded the expedition and I felt responsible for the safety of the men who went down in the sub with me. Now you have your own moral obligation—to Eddie’s children. Their father was taken from them in a tragic accident. You have to be the father he would have been. You have to do that, because he can’t. And if you end up in jail for murder, what will happen to them?”

      Long, tense seconds passed, then Carlson’s expression changed, softened. Moments ago, the guy had been roaring mad, ready to avenge his brother’s death. Now, apparently something Noah had said got to him.

      When he lowered the gun, Olivia let out the breath she’d been holding.

      “Thank you,” Noah said.

      Carlson answered with a tight nod.

      Lowering his hands, Noah said, “Give me the gun.”

      Carlson hesitated, then handed over the weapon.

      Noah took it and shoved it into his pocket. “I know you’re grieving, and a grieving man sometimes does things he might regret later.”

      Carlson nodded again.

      “I’m truly sorry. When I was asked to finance the expedition, I thought it was a good idea. I guess I should have planned better.”

      Carlson looked down at his hands. “I feel like a jerk coming after you. It won’t bring Eddie back.”

      “I understand. You’re hurting and you wanted to lash out at me because I’m still alive. I’m curious, how did you find me?” Noah asked.

      The man sighed. “The Light Street Detective Agency. They’re in Baltimore, my hometown. I couldn’t find where you lived, but they saw that you’d registered at this hotel.” Carlson swallowed hard. “Eddie always was reckless. Did he do something…that got you in trouble down there?”

      Noah answered quickly. “No.”

      From the way he voiced the word, Olivia thought he was probably lying.

      Carlson stepped back. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

      “Go back home

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