Chapter 1
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Nikki Love
I’m sitting at the gleaming counter of the casino cocktail bar, tracing my fingertip in a splash of spilled alcohol. On the bar counter beside me rests an empty whisky glass. My father’s glass. He’s just stood up and left.
My head is still spinning from his latest revelation. He’s done some freaky shit before, but this beats it all. Hands down.
“You what?” I’d half-shrieked when he told me the news an hour ago. My voice had carried loudly enough to catch the attention of several patrons across the bar. They’d stared, and I’d snapped my mouth shut. Scary-looking dudes – not the type you want to draw attention from. My father had shot them a look, then shifted uncomfortably. Clearly drunk. I’d arrived in the foyer of the Diamond Elite luxury hotel and casino, expecting to carry him home again. Like I always do. Not tonight, though.
“I lost you in a card game, babydoll,” he’d slurred after he’d managed to coax me into meeting him in the cocktail bar. I’d shaken my head at his words. It had to be a joke. “It’ll be fine, though. You’ll see. I just have to pay off the debt, and everything will be okay.”
Now I’m staring into my own empty glass, trying not to let myself cry openly. The bartender cruises by, and I raise a shaking hand for another round. I don’t normally manage more than three martinis, but tonight is different. I need oblivion.
“Three million dollars,” Dad had said. “You’re worth every penny, my love.” As if I should be proud or something. And it got worse. He lost me to some fucking lowlife gambler. It’s like something out of a film. Or a nightmare.
“I made him promise to be good to ya, Nikki,” he’d continued. Like that was even possible.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I’d squawked. Then denial set in. “No. I won’t do it. This is your bullshit. You sort it out.”
He’d wept then. Great oily tears had spilled onto his cheeks. “He’ll end me, babydoll.” He’d swallowed. “And you, too. There’s no way out.” Right. So, this was the guy who was going to “be good to me”?
“I’ll take my chances,” I’d said icily. The cops could step in. Vegas is not the den of iniquity Hollywood makes it out to be. There’s still law here.
And then my fucking father had pulled out his trump card.
“You never loved me like a good daughter,” he’d blubbered. “Not like Sophia.” I’d frozen at the mention of my sister’s name. “I’ll call her. She’ll help me.”
“No!” I’d barked out. “Don’t you fucking dare!”
His expression had grown wily. “Sophia isn’t hard like you. She’ll do as she’s told. I’ll send her to him. Do you want that, Nikki? Do you want your baby sister to pay your debt?”
Not my debt, goddammit!
But I knew what he was saying. Barely 20, still in college, beautiful Sophie has her whole life ahead of her. I’ve made it my mission to make that happen. After Mom passed, I’ve pulled every possible string to keep Sophie in college. She’s my greatest achievement. Sweet, unspoiled. So much potential. This would ruin her.
“You make me sick, you know that?” I’d muttered darkly. There was nothing I could do. Trapped. His tears had rolled more swiftly – pure self-pity – I’d left it at that. Not because I felt any sympathy – he’d long ago lost any rights to that. But because I honestly had no more words.
After that, Dad had downed his drink and left hurriedly. Now here I sit, contemplating my future. Or lack of one. What future is there for a woman in servitude to some sicko? He has to be a sicko. What other kind of man would gamble for a woman? I’ve read about this sort of thing before. Never realized I’d be stuck in a situation like this, though. It’s just impossible to comprehend.
A martini glass slides in front of me, and I take it without glancing up. The wide rim brushes my lips, and I throw the drink back without taking a breath. Then I choke as the booze hits my belly. My thoughts are growing a little foggy now, and I welcome the feeling. It’s taking the edge off the horror, and I need that right now.
Another glass arrives to replace my empty one. I frown down at it, then look up at the bartender. He nods over at the men across the bar.
“From the gents,” he says, wiping the immaculate counter. The surface is a rich red color; some sort of smooth stone like red marble. Like blood. I look up at the guys he’s pointing at. The same three I’d noticed earlier. Impeccably cut suits can’t hide the air of menace around them. One of them, a heavyset guy in the center, gives me a nod and a leer. I aim a tight smile at him and look back at the bartender.
“Tell them I don’t want it,” I whisper to him. He shakes his head.
“Better to take it, Miss,” he murmurs back. “I don’t want any trouble here.”
My stomach flips, and I stare at him for a second. Then I reach for the glass and toss it back with the same vigor as the previous one.Fuck it.My life is a mess anyhow. Five martinis are the least of my worries.
When he turns to leave, I slap some notes on the counter to cover my tab. I need to get out of here. I swing my feet from the high bar stool and land on unsteady legs. As I stand, the alcohol seems to flood into my system in a rush. I’m not a big drinker. Being a nurse means my shifts can wreak havoc on a social life. The heady combination of gin and vermouth has gone straight to my head.
I set my sights on the doorway and head toward it, trying not to weave. It’s dim in the plush red interior of the chic cocktail bar, so I’m hoping nobody notices my wobbling departure. My car’s in the parking lot, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to need to call a cab.Dammit.
I’ve almost made it to the door when a wave of cloying cologne washes over me. A hand slides under my elbow. I stiffen and freeze mid-step. A man has appeared at my side, and his grip on my arm is a shade away from painful.
