Page 53 of When He Plays

“You know the rules, Mr. Sterling,” the one on the right side. “Everyone must be searched before going to the penthouse.”

“Fine.” Annoyance flared in the clipped word from Logan.

A woman approached. Black dress. Holding a silver tray.

Logan let go of Charlotte’s hand. He reached inside his tux…

And dropped a knife into the tray. Then a gun.

A gun?

She frowned at him.

“Loose pockets,” he said with a shrug. “You can store all sorts of shit in them.” Then he raised his hands. “Pat me down, boys, have at it.”

They did. They also turned up another knife and a pair of brass knuckles.

Brass knuckles, really? She hadn’t seen a pair of those in ages.

“How did those get in there?” Logan asked, mock shocked.

“Take off the tux coat,” an unamused guard ordered.

“Why?” Logan wanted to know with a roll of his eyes. “You think I’ve got stuff tucked up my sleeve? What am I, a magician?”

“Sorry, sir, but Ares gave strict instructions that your sleeves were to be searched.”

Because Ares believed Logan had cheated in his last game.

With a sigh, Logan took off his tux coat. He even rolled up his sleeves to reveal both forearms. “Satisfied?”

A hard nod from the guard who’d done the talking. His gaze shifted to her. “Now you.”

“She’s not taking off her dress,” Logan snapped. “Nice try, jackass.” He rolled down his sleeves. Shouldered into his tux coat. Then he was in front of Charlotte. “Okay, sweetheart, you’ll have to ditch that favorite knife.”

Her eyes widened. Had he truly just sold her out that way?

He bent before her. His hands went to her dress. He began to lift up her dress.

“Logan?” Her hands clamped around his shoulders.

He lifted up the dress even more, until he revealed the knife she’d strapped to her thigh. His fingers skimmed along her inner thigh, and sure enough, heat poured through her veins. She bit her lip because she almost moaned, right there, with the guards watching them.

He unhooked the strap and tossed both it and the sheath toward the lady with the tray. In a fast show of dexterity, the woman lunged forward. Both items landed on her tray.

“Done,” Logan said. His hand still lingered against Charlotte’s thigh. He looked up at her.

“We’re not done,” the guard huffed. The talkative one. Maybe an inch shorter than the other guy and with a neatly trimmed beard along his jaw. “We are not done until I search her.”

She saw Logan’s face harden. Uh, oh.

Another little caress of his fingers against her thigh. Then he let the dress fall back into place. He rose, putting his body in front of hers as he turned to confront the guards. “Have I not shown good faith?” Logan inquired. A very polite tone. With Logan, she’d learned that polite often equaled dangerous. “Did I not surrender my weapons without an argument? Did I not let you pat me down?”

“You did but⁠—”

“And I just took away my Charlotte’s favorite knife. We will be collecting that when we depart, by the way. Not like I can let her leave her favorite one behind.”

Good to know. She was attached to that knife. It had been her dad’s.