“IHATEthis shit,” I said into the phone, stretched out on my couch with a bottle of Jack in hand.
“Dude, you have to calm down. I’m here. I’ve made contact with my guy. He’s cool, and working our cover,” Carson said. “And ditch the booze. You sound like shit, slurring your words. Dry out and put some clothes on.”
“How the hell do you know I’m not wearing clothes?” I stared down at my bare chest and the boxer briefs hanging low on my waist.
“Because I know you. Do you want me to call Asher?”
“No! Don’t call him. He’ll just ream me out for what we did. You know how he is with his girls.”
I stood and headed to my bathroom to flip on the shower, letting steam fill the room while finishing my call.
“Then get your sorry ass to work, and leave this to me.”
“Okay.”
I hung up and showered—too stressed to even jack it—and went to work.
Wearing my standard jeans, track jacket, and Air Force 1s, I made my way up to the front of the club, wanting to see how the door was running. That was my first mistake.
“Sampson,” I told him, “stay away from me. I know you meant well, but you shouldn’t have gotten involved. Just keep a distance, and we’ll be fine.”
One look at my face, and he said, “Yes, boss.”
My second mistake was not staying long on the club floor. Like a baby, I went into my office and sulked, memories hemorrhaging in my brain.
It had been one of those rare cold days in Sin City, and Lynx and I had stayed in bed most of the day. I had no clue as to why, but my condo had a gas fireplace in the master suite. I’d turned that baby on ... and we made love all day.
Lynx was between semesters and had taken the day off to be with me.All day. It was before Natalie knew about us, or Asher had mucked everything up for the millionth time. We’d been in our own little cocoon for twenty-four hours.
I ran my hand up and down her smooth back, the tips of her braids nearly touching her ass. I moved them out of the way and let my hand wander over the crack and around the round globes. She was perfect for me. I hadn’t told her I loved her, but that didn’t mean I didn’t want to. The words had been on my lips for weeks. There was something about this jewel of a woman that was made for me.
But her life was fucked up, and I guessed that was why I didn’t say it. Was she ready to hear it then? Probably not, but I fucking said it anyway—when I’d been balls deep inside her, gliding in and out slowly, shadows from the flames flickering against the white walls, and all the Sin City bullshit outside my big windows.
My voice had been hoarse and broken when I said, “Love you, Lynx.”
Her eyes shot to mine, and small golden embers crackled inside the deep mahogany of her irises. “Michael ... Big Mike loves me?” She ran her nails down my back and up again while she teased me.
I didn’t answer, only kissed her hard, quickening my pace and showing her how I felt. Later, when we were cleaned up and lay with our legs tangled on my bed, she’d said, “I’m starting to care for you way more than I should, but I can’t stop it.”
That was how we left it for a while until I’d moved to Florida and begged daily, using my love as a convenient reason as to why she should leave her way of life behind.
Now she’d left me behind, and I’d created even more damage in the wake. I cared for another woman, but couldn’t give her my heart. I’d hurt Marta, set her free, and then brought her into this like an awful fucking pig.
Carson had put his life on hold for me, left his wife alone with their family to help me. Sampson had meant well, and now Marta had gone to the other side of the earth for me and put herself in harm’s way.
And me? In my ultimate moment of feeling low, I called Asher.
“You what?” My closest friend screamed at me, and I pictured his eyes bulging out of his head and his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his leather pants.
“She insisted on it. Carson agreed.” I banged my head into my desk and ran my hand over the back of my neck.
“Jesus fuck, Mike. I thought you were calling to let me know about our fucking hotel. Now you tell me you sent one of our girls ... the one you were fucking not long ago ... to the Middle fucking East to find the last girl you were banging and supposedly in love with? That’s what you called to fucking say? Fuck, fuck, fuck you.”
I lost count of how many times he saidfuck, but even I knew it was too many for Asher.
“I know I’m fucked, no matter what.”
“I’m hanging the fuck up now and coming to you. When I get there, we’re going to figure out how the fuck to get our girls back. I’m gonna have to tell Petey what you did, because he’s gonna have to haul his ass here and watch Vegas for me. I got so much fucking cash coming in ... big conference week here ... I can’t trust anybody but family with this kind of ching.”
