They got dressed for their night out—the reservation at Hugo’s Cellar was for eight—with Nolan in his milk-chocolate Armani suit and Sherry in a black evening gown with gold filigree at the shoulders, a bare back and a side slit.

Goddamnit, he loved this woman. He’d let himself love a woman once, a long time ago, and then she got herself killed, and he swore off such foolishness. But his life was different now. He wasn’t some hard guy thief anymore, was he? He’d tried explaining it to Jon.

Nolan was strictly legit these days, with a beautiful young wife—some might call her a trophy wife…well, the hell with them. He loved her. From the ground up, from the hair down.

Life was good now.

They were just preparing to go out for their evening at one of the best restaurants in Las Vegas, where an old friend and his wife would be waiting, when the men in ski masks and guns burst in….