It was backless, with only long swaths of fabric to cover just enough of my breasts, ending in a halter-style neckline. It was floor-length, but there was a long slit up the leg that didn’t leave much for the imagination. There was a piece of fabric snagged to the glitter of the dress, and I plucked it off. A matching gold thong.
Blow me, I thought with a huff. I threw everything back in the bag. He would have to forgive every penny I owed him for me to put that contraption on for his sick viewing pleasure. And he would have to somehow resurrect Crush from the dead. And until I saw the proof, it was staying in the bag.
In the days following Crush’s capture, I scoured my whole apartment for whatever it was that King had placed—a bug, a camera, something. But I couldn’t find anything. I checked every windowsill and the surrounding area near the garages, but there was nothing. King was an excellent ghost at getting any information he wanted.
The lights of the Strip blinked as we made our way to either the Bellagio or the Cosmo. I wasn’t sure which one. The limo moved, and the Cosmo came into view. The bodyguard pulled up front, and the valet opened the door for me. I stepped out in my blood-covered scrubs, and the bodyguard came around the front. His mouth went into a frown, but he said nothing.
I followed him inside the Cosmopolitan. Seeing as it was a Friday, the casino was busy with the regulars and the tourists. I looked around, wondering how many of them would be flat broke by the end of the weekend and have the terrible luck of working for King. I could only hope that maybe someone else would pick up the torch and kill the motherfucker.
The ride was silent up to the penthouse, and the doors parted. King was lounging on the couch, looking out the window. I stepped inside, and the doors shut before I realized the bodyguard had stayed in the elevator. And the other one was nowhere to be seen. My heart leaped to my throat—it was just King and me.
There was soft music playing, and I could see a bottle of wine on the coffee table with two empty glasses as I got closer. King wasn’t in his usual white suit. He had on a flashy gold top that looked like it came from a seventies disco party and white pants.He wanted us to match, I realized with disgust.
“Brianna Gold,” he mused, his eyes closed. “Come stand in front of me so I can see just how golden you are.”
“I didn’t put on the damn dress,” I seethed, and his eyes opened lazily. I walked in front of him in my work scrubs. I didn’t care—about my appearance, about King, about the debt. I was simply operating on autopilot. “What do you want?”
King stood and took one step towards me. I took two steps back. He smirked, a glint appearing in those beady eyes of his.If only I had a scalpel,I thought resignedly,oh the things I could do to King that would make Crush proud. I met King’s eyes. I was done being scared of a man who hid behind men and in fancy penthouses while I was busting my ass to cover a debt that wasn’t even worth it miles below.
“You’re thinking about him,” King said, and it wasn’t a question. “Why?”
“Go fuck yourself,” I spat. “And die while you’re at it.”
“Oh, Brianna,” King crooned, taking a step towards me. But I didn’t take a step back. I was holding my ground. “Crush is long gone and dead now. It’s time to get over that. And besides, I have been nothing but generous to you. Is that any way to treat me?”
He killed Crush and it’s all my fault, I couldn’t help but think.But I wasn’t going to let him bully me. If anything, I owed it to Crush to fight against King with every fiber of my being. And that’s what I planned on doing.
“You’re the scum of the earth.”
“Oh, tell me something I haven’t heard before,” King smirked. His eyes roved over me, and I tried not to cower under his gaze. “I am disappointed that you’re not wearing the dress I bought for you, princess.”
“I’m not your princess,” I seethed. “Now, what do you want?”
“I was thinking of a nice dinner date downstairs,” he smiled. “But of course, not while you’re dressed like that. Guess we’ll just speed up to dessert then. Can I offer you some wine?”
“No thank you,” I said defiantly, tilting my chin up.
King reached for me, and I ducked under his arms. I put the coffee table between us, and I looked around for anything that could be used as a weapon. But it was useless—there was no way King wasn’t armed without his bodyguards around. And it didn’t matter how capable I was with a broken wine bottle; King was a faster draw with a gun.
“You may have the police on your side,” I growled. “But if you touch me, I’ll fucking turn you in.”
King grimaced. I had a slight upper hand. Rape by a man that can be tracked, with video evidence to prove it? That was evil, even by King’s standards.He’s too smart to do that, I realized. And besides—he wanted me, that was evident. He’d wait until I had no choice but to agree.
“Change your mind within the week,” King threatened. “Or else.”
There it is, I thought. He dismissed me with a wave of his hand, going to stand by the windows. I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I made my way to the elevator and pressed the call button. I waited in silence, a small plan brewing in my mind.
“Oh, and Brianna?” King said. I turned as the elevator dinged with its arrival. The bodyguard was still there, his arm covering the door from closing. “Don’t leave Vegas. And since you’re open tonight, why don’t you go fix up my son? Chinatown. And you can keep the dress.”
I nodded and stepped into the elevator. The bodyguard walked with me to the limo, his face giving no emotion. He drove me back to the hospital, being kind enough to take it up next to my car. I was unsure if I should thank him, but I decided against it. So I grabbed my keys, and upon second thought, grabbed the bag too.Maybe the bedside manner I have can come in handy after all, I thought.
I got in my car and pulled out into traffic. I didn’t know Prince too much, but I knew that he wasn’t his father. He was really looking for a club, not an empire. Rumor has it that he was even friends with some of the Black Reapers before things went to shit. I drove to Chinatown, and I hoped maybe Prince and Crush were close. But I doubted it.
I arrived at the warehouse, the club guys doing patrols. It was one of the only times I’d seen the men so tense and dead set on doing their so-called jobs. The hair on the back of my neck stood up in alarm, and one of the members nodded as I walked up to the door. I had never seen the warehouse crawling with so many members before. Something was very, very wrong here.
“First room on your right,” he said. “Looks pretty serious.”
I gave him an acknowledging look, and I walked inside the clubhouse. There was not the usual poker game being played. The air itself was tense. I wasn’t sure if it was because Prince was gravely injured or if because King was still reeling from Crush’s betrayal. Whatever it was, I wanted to be out as fast as possible.
