“Yeah, the whole system is screwed. I only have to check in once a month ‘cause, even though they found a clubhouse full of contraband, I had a clean record on the inside and didn’t commit a violent crime or show any signs of violence.”
“Except when Viper pushed your buttons last week in the office.”
“Extenuating circumstances. Viper’s a vindictive fucker who needs to be shut down.”
“And by shut down, you mean?”
“Nothing for you to worry about.”
“Except it is if you want me to allow you to use this as the Kings clubhouse.”
“Nothing will ever touch you.”
“Sounds great, but I’ve heard that before, and you can’t make that promise.”
Her words hang between us, and although I don’t want to admit it, she might be right.
“My father won this place in a poker game, and believe it or not, before my mother died and all the shit hit the fan, he made a profit. Of course, it all went up in smoke when he got sent away, but he did sign it over to me, and I do own it outright.”
“And now Viper wants this place too.”
“Only because he thinks there’s a shit-ton of money to be had and an incriminating flash drive. Plus, he was always spouting off about owning Atlantic City.”
“Yeah, well, that’s not gonna fuckin’ happen. Which brings me to the plan I concocted last night while my swollen eye and jaw had their own heartbeat.”
“Let’s hear it. Can’t be any worse than smashing holes in the sheetrock.”
I eye her ankle monitor. “You’re chained to this place, and like I said, the Kings need this place, so here’s my deal.”
Chapter Fifteen
SAMMIE
The plan Deuce lays out isn’t completely terrible or unrealistic. What is alarming and jarringly irrational is the way my eyes track every flex of his muscles as he shifts for a more comfortable position on the couch. Even his face banged up and swollen ignites a simmering flame deep in my gut, then a few inches lower.
The timbre of his voice is what the most expensive bourbon would sound like, all smoky, dark and addictive. “So, what do you think?”
Good question. My judgment of late hasn’t been the greatest, but there is just something about Deuce that tells me he’s an outlaw for sure, but he’s not Viper.
I followed most of his words until my brain took a detour, stopping at all the erotic places this man could hold me hostage.
“I’d have to have something in writing.”
“Like a contract?”
“As I’m sure you’ve already gotten from my brief history, I’ve been screwed around, and mostly by men, so excuse me if I don’t totally trust or believe everything you’ve laid out.”
He zeroes in on my lips, then his gaze travels to my eyes and lingers. “The Kings are not the Dogs, and we’re not gonna screw you.”
“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and agree that you wouldn’t screw me intentionally, but you are one-percent outlaws.” I draw in a calming breath. “Not unlike the Dogs.”
His lips curve into a frown, and, yes, my guileful brain finds that attractive too.
“The way I see it, you need us as much as we need you, but if you want something in writing, fine. Then I’ll show you how we’re different.”
“There is also the matter of the money needed to get this place up and running.”
“I told you, the Kings will buy all the shit needed to get this place up and running, plus we’ll pay you monthly rent.” He nods toward the door. “Are there other rooms up here?”
