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it to open the door. “You need ice on your face—”
    “And my gut.”
    “Your gut’s fine,” she said.
    “You could kiss it just to be sure,” Ryan drawled.
    Un-freaking-believable. Daisy turned to give him a piece of her mind, but then she saw the dizzy look in his eyes and the way he stumbled against the door. “You got a concussion?”
    “No.” Ryan rubbed the back of his head. “Maybe. He knocked me pretty hard against the wall.”
    Damn. She went to her luggage and pulled out her emergency travel kit. Bandages, antiseptic, and condoms—not that she’d ever had cause to use the condoms on a trip before. The aspirin was exactly where she’d left it. She rolled out two and shoved them at Ryan. “Take these and sit down. I’ve got to go back to the tournament, but I’ll have Bullet send someone to watch you.”
    “Like hell.” Ryan grabbed the aspirin and swallowed them down dry. “I’m playing.”
    “You can’t. You’ve got a concussion.”
    “I’ve had worse, and it doesn’t change the job.”
    “What job?” she demanded.
    “Undercover with the FBI.” And it must have been the concussion talking because for the first time since they’d met, Ryan sounded like he was telling her the truth. “Fuck, I wasn’t supposed to say that.”
    He straightened up.
    And swayed.
    “You tell anyone and I’ll have you on the first plane ride out of here,” he threatened, and there was cold iron in his voice to back it up. “I’ll throw you in the clink so fast—”
    “Don’t worry,” Daisy interrupted. “I’m not telling anyone. I—”
    She wished she didn’t know. Hunting down cheaters at the poker table was one thing—she’d done it for years—but an undercover FBI agent was something else entirely. Was he looking for the cheater? Was cheating at cards a federal offense? Or, was he looking for something else?
    “Are you investigating someone at the casino?” Was he investigating Bullet ? Her gut churned. This was completely out of her experience, but either way it didn’t matter. She couldn’t leave the old man out to dry. Not when he’d asked for her help.
    And she definitely couldn’t let him find out there was an FBI agent at the Hendrix. The man’s ticker was in bad enough shape without that kind of shock. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip. She definitely wouldn’t be telling anyone.
    “Your secret’s safe with me,” she said.
    “Good.” Ryan nodded, but he didn’t look like he believed her. He groaned. “I need to get back to the tournament before the round starts.”
    “Fine.” Daisy opened the mini bar and snagged a cold drink—Bullet was paying for it anyway—and handed the bottle to Ryan. “Put that on your head. When you get down there, drink water.”
    “I can handle my booze—”
    “You’ve got a concussion, and I don’t want anyone arresting Bullet for giving a law enforcement agent an aneurysm.” Crud, Bullet had hit an FBI agent. He was screwed. Her eyes squeezed tight. They were both screwed.
    “Easy,” Ryan said, and then he was standing in front of her with his hand on her cheek. “Easy, honey,” he murmured. “Tonight we’re going to talk. You’re going to tell me everything. I’ll help if I can.” There was a short pause. “Believe me.”
    “Yeah, right.”
    “That’s my angry bunny,” Ryan laughed as his hand dropped away.
    Forget the tournament. He needed to go to the hospital.
    But, by the time Daisy’s eyes flickered open, Ryan was already halfway to the elevator and all she could do was follow him. He was still the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, but now there was heaviness to his step she hadn’t seen before. As if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
    Not that she cared.
    But she did.
    She slowly played her way through the two afternoon rounds, letting her brain calculate the odds automatically while she kept an eye on Ryan’s table. He played with the same boisterous smiles and easy laughter