In any case, though, I tried to even steer clear of the gossip. The farther out of the loop I was, the easier it was to keep doing the work. And I wasn’t getting out from under King anytime soon—I was grinning and bearing it, hoping for either a miracle or some sort of shootout to happen.
But Crush was refreshingly…honest. And he had a good disposition for someone who just got shot in the leg. He was a brute and definitely didn’t mince words based on how he was to the prospect. The kind of man that Crush was never kept you guessing what he was feeling—he just flat out told you. And if your feelings got hurt, then well…tough shit. Crush was exactly the type of guy that I should stay far, far away from.
You forgot to mention you think he’s totally hot, my brain interjected.
I groaned because it was true. I’m not sure if it was because he was flirting with me, making me feel things and in ways that I hadn’t felt in a long time, or if I was just that delirious from the lack of sleep. But Crush was one of those people that were objectively attractive. He was bald, with a red beard, and all harsh angles in his face that were somehow aesthetically pleasing to look at. He was broad and muscular all over his body, his shirt giving me a good idea of just how built he was. But his brown eyes were soft when he looked at me.
On the flip side, I had a feeling he could crush someone’s skull with his thighs.Maybe that’s how he got his name,I mused. Crush had a reputation that preceded him—he was a dog in every sense of the word. He chased women like they were prey, and when he was angry, he was rabid. Killed on command. The man was King’s personal hellhound. Every time I had seen him prior to tonight, I was intimidated by his authority and devotion to King.
I still didn’t quite buy his excuse of a lucky shot from a Black Reaper. But true to form, I wanted to stay as far away from that bullshit as possible. Keeping my head down and working off my debt was currently the fastest way I was getting out of this shithole job.
I opened my car door when a hand came from behind and closed it with a distinctive slam. I turned in fear, seeing a King’s Men club member. He was one I’d never seen before, not that it narrowed it down at all, but he was looming over me with a twisted grin. My heart was in my throat, and I thought about screaming for help. I never had any problem from any of the King’s Men members in the past, but that could always change on the dime.
“Follow me,” he instructed.
“I want to go home and sleep,” I groaned. I was tired of being called on from every which direction, and it felt like this night was never going to end. Not to mention, I hadn’t even showered. “No more following anyone.”
“Boss wants to talk to you,” he replied, turning his back to walk away. “Now.”
Gulping, I nodded. King was not a man to disobey. When he gave an order, it was to be followed quickly, efficiently, and with as few cops as possible. I remember another doctor, here for the same reason I was, detached from the work. She became so numb and had simply stopped responding to any of his calls. King harassed her so much that she moved away, or at least that’s what I was told. She most likely was six feet in the ground. So I decided it was better if I got in my car and followed the biker.
We were headed to the Cosmopolitan, that was obvious after we passed the Bellagio without stopping. The traffic in Vegas at four in the morning was not terrible, but it wasn’t as empty as someone might expect. Definitely one of the slower times for traffic, but there were still a lot of people out and about. Especially as we got closer to the Strip. But the club member was kind enough to be patient with me as I maneuvered through the traffic as best as I could without getting into a car accident. My Chevy Impala simply couldn’t squeeze between cars like motorcycles could.
The biker escorted me inside the hotel. Loud sounds of jackpots and despair blared throughout, and the lingering cigarette and pot smoke mixture that was Vegas was stuck to the walls like mold. People parted ways, as most tourists did when any of the members walked through, and we made our path to the private elevator. We rode up together to the top floor of the casino, where he got off to go about his day, leaving me alone for the rest of the journey. Just the elevator music to accompany me. At the very top, I stepped out and entered into the penthouse suite.
It was lavishly modern, with sleek couches and a long table. I didn’t know how many rooms it had—people like me were only allowed into the lobby area. There were floor-to-ceiling windows on one side that gave view to the Strip and the rising sun.Yep, I am literally still awake with the sun, I thought back to my earlier prediction.And there, sitting and overlooking out the large windows of his supposed empire, sat King, his back to me.
“Sometimes, the presence of a beautiful woman isn’t the curse people say it is,” his low voice greeted, and he turned in his chair to face me. “It’s the key to unlocking so much.”
Per usual, King was wearing a white suit. He had long blond hair, and could be mistaken for a surfer dude in his prime. His skin was a deep tan, which made him appear younger somehow. All looks aside, King was in his mid-fifties. The deep lines in his face gave that much away, and his hair was starting to lose its blond color to be more of a silver. But he could hide a lot under a manipulative smile.
The two bodyguards were at their usual spots next to their boss. They wore black suits and black shirts and black shoes with wraparound sunglasses. All to contrast from the big man himself—King liked to stand out from the crowd, no matter what. But the bodyguards were a different breed of human beings. They were both tall, muscular, and intimidating as fuck.But neither was as attractive as Crush, I thought with some surprise. Must be the lack of sleep.
“What do you want?” I clipped.
“How polite of you to ask,” he smirked. King had beady eyes, and you couldn’t help but feel tiny under his gaze. I shrunk further into myself, trying to take up less space. He continued, “I have my suspicions that a few of my men are not following my orders. A snitch, a rat, a traitor. Call it what you will. I need you to use your charm, and well…bedside manner, if you will, to weasel out some information. Of course, I’ll reduce your debt for this service.”
This is a trap, the alarms sounded in my head. Everything with King was a trap—he was like a terrible genie who grants your wish but with horrible consequences. But the thing was, he always knew when to play the right card. And he knew he had me.I’ll reduce your debtwas on stereo blast in my skull. That was what made him so powerful. King knew what everyone wanted, and he could give it to them.
The only rule: you had to play King’s game.
“How much?” I asked.
“For every slacker you turn in to me, I’ll credit you…” he mused, tapping his chin before his beady eyes met mine with a dark gleam, “let’s say ten grand.”
“Per person?” I clarified. I wasn’t going to be caught in his fine print trap twice.
He nodded. I had a nagging feeling that it had something to do with Crush. There is just no way he could’ve gotten shot during a getaway—the bullet went in straight. But whatever it was with Crush was a different matter entirely. Not to mention, I wasn’t going to get sidetracked from my goal by some hot biker who managed to get himself shot. The fact remained that in order to get out, I had to rely on the one person I knew I could depend on: myself.
I took a deep breath and met King’s eyes, “I accept.”
I could be out of here in six months,I thought.This would make it possible.
“Good to hear,” King said with a smile. There was a minute of silence. It felt like a test—to see if I’d walk out of the room before being dismissed. But I knew better. There was something else he wanted to tell me. After a moment, the question came. “How was Crush?”
“He’ll recover,” I said with a shrug.
He stared at me, analyzing to see if I was lying. I wasn’t, but I wasn’t telling the full truth either.
