by Jen Talty
She stood and smoothed down the fabric of her red dress, adjusting the hem slightly, praying she didn’t sway back and forth. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you. I hope our paths cross again soon.” She stretched out her hand. This night couldn’t end quickly enough.
He took it in a firm grip and shook. “Until you visit the places you are trying to help, you have no understanding of what these people want or need.”
The nerve of that man. “I don’t need to spend a day there to know that those who walk through the front door need help, and the money I raise goes a long way.” She scanned the room and found Weslynn leaning against the wall by the front door flirting with one of the waitstaff. “Take care, Clayton.”
Sage snagged her clutch purse and on shaky heels, made her way across the deserted dance floor, keeping her chin up and not looking over her shoulder. Her heel caught against a wire that had been badly taped to the floor. She flapped her arms about like a wild bird, but all that did was hurl her pocketbook across the room.
Damn, this was going to hurt.
She pushed out her arms, bracing for impact when something substantial coiled around her middle and yanked her in midair.
“Whoa.” She managed to brush her hair from her face while whatever held her set her feet on the ground, twisting her body. “Wait. I need to take these fuckers off.” She kicked out of her shoes, not caring she just swore in front of…she glanced up. “Shit,” she mumbled, staring into Clayton’s pools of warm energy that were the color of the ocean when the sun beat down and showed the sand through the clear waters.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine, thank you. I just need to get myself into a Lyft.”
“Are you going out to the club with your friend? Or heading home to Summerlin?”
She tilted her head. “What makes you think I live in Summerlin?”
“Isn’t that where your parents live?”
She grunted, nodding her head. “But, for your information, I have my own place in Henderson.” Well, her father owned numerous properties, so she didn’t actually own it. That said, she hadn’t lived with her parents since she had turned ten.
“Good for you.”
She squinted her eyes. “What the hell does that mean? Another dig at my age?”
He raised his hands. “I’m just trying to have a conversation with you.”
“It feels more like you’re trying to figure out if I’m old enough to do my job. And for the record, I’m twenty-five. Not that my age makes any difference in my ability to raise funds, or to tell you to buzz off.” For her entire life, she’d been justifying or defending her abilities, decisions, and choices in life to her parents. She sure as shit wasn’t going to do it for a man who had needed her help to raise money for his project. She waved to Weslynn. “Are you ready to go, clubbing?” Sage hiccupped.
Oh boy, this was going to be a huge mistake.
Chapter 2
Clayton cocked his head and watched Sage’s hips sway back and forth as she stomped across the dance floor in her bare feet. His heartbeat rattled his ribcage, and his breath got caught in his lungs.
She might be young, but she was all woman, and he found himself wanting to know more about her other than the fact she was a spoiled trust-fund baby. Granted, her skills at getting her wealthy friends to open their checkbooks and donate a shit-ton of money were out of this world. He’d never seen anyone work a room quite like she had.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and strolled toward the door where she stood next to her assistant. He tried to tell himself that he was only interested in showing her what the Alley Home and places like it needed outside of the money. That statement was ninety percent true. The other ten percent was split between wanting to see her get her pretty little manicured hands dirty by spending a day volunteering and wanting to see what she looked like under that red strapless dress.
“Have you decided to come with us?” Weslynn asked with a bright smile.
He suspected that Weslynn was about the same age as Sage, but nowhere near as refined. He couldn’t deny the fact that Sage was not only beautiful, but she was smart too.
And not just book smart.
She carried herself with a fair amount of confidence, but she still lacked the understanding that money only went so far. A concept that she was born into and part of Clayton wanted to show her reality.
But he wouldn’t.
Or maybe he would.
Fuck. Women like Sage got under his skin in more ways than one. Her naivete over what her money and hard work did for those who needed it either came from her station in life, or her inability to see the truth.
He suspected it was the former, and that made him feel slightly better, but not enough so that he didn’t want to set her straight.
The other problem with Sage wasn’t really her problem, but his, because she was exactly his type in every way.
Except for maybe her age, but he had plenty of friends who had wives and girlfriends ten or fifteen years younger.
Or older. Hell, Shamus, fellow Brotherhood Protector employee, his mother was something like twenty or thirty years younger than his father and not a single person on the planet would argue that those two were a perfect match.
Age was just a number.
Clayton knew that if he turned on the charm, they’d have a wild affair. It would be short-lived, but it would be one neither of them would soon forget.
“He’s busy,” Sage said, not glancing up in his direction.
“Last I checked I was a grown man capable of speaking for myself,” he said with a hefty dose of sarcasm. She had a way of putting him on the defensive.
All while tying his gut up in knots.
Sage lifted her gaze, giving him the once-over. “Whatever you say, old man.”
He tapped his chest. “That hurt, especially since I just kept you from kissing the floor with your pretty little nose.”
She raised her index finger and rubbed her nose as she scrunched her face, giving him an odd look.
He handed the valet the keys to his pickup. “So, what club are you girls headed to?” His days of partying in Vegas ended when he left for the Navy twenty years ago. That thought reminded him of how young Sage was, only when he had been her age, he’d already finished his training to be a SEAL and had been deployed on at least a dozen special operations. That had been the most grueling thing he’d ever done in his life, and he remembered needing to run off some steam after every op, and that’s probably what she was doing by heading to the clubs.
And he only wanted to spend a little more time with her, so, therefore, he could handle a club for one night.
“Are you seriously planning on joining us?” Sage asked.
“Absolutely.” He grew up with hard knocks. He had to fight for every single thing he ever had.
She just had to ask daddy.
And yet, there he stood, staring, wanting to break his one golden rule.
Don’t take the donors to bed.
“Have you ever heard of Dixie’s Nightclub?” Weslynn asked.
He’d heard of and had been to just about every club on the strip back in the day. His mother’s clientele sometimes consisted of rich men with a thirst for gambling and a good party, including Maxwell Busgy.
“I’ve been there. It gets a little too out of control most nights for my taste. You really might like the Firehouse better. It just opened a few months ago, and it’s an—”
“Older, more mature crowd?” Sage asked as she batted her lashes. They fluttered over her exotic eyes like butterfly wings in slow motion. “Is it like the mecca for the middle-aged?” Her voice took on a mocking valley-girl-type inflection.
He opened his mouth but slammed it shut. He supposed he deserved Sage’s sarcasm, considering he accidentally insulted her age when he’d hit on her at the bar. “The Firehouse has a much better DJ lineup,” he said.
“And you know this, firsthand?” Sage puckered her lips as if
she’d just sucked on a lemon peel after taking a shot of tequila. “You’ve been there? I mean, don’t you live in Montana or something?”
Well, he’d royally fucked up this conversation.
Actually, if he thought about it, she’d been the one to bring up the differences in age, so it was her that had the problem.
Not him.
And that sucked differently.
“A buddy of mine owns it, so I’m sure I could call him and get us a table if you’d like. Seriously, the club you are heading to has some major confrontations, and the cops are called every night of the week, not to mention it’s in a shady part of town where drive-bys happen regularly.”
Sage patted his biceps. “Thanks for the concern, but I’ve lived in Vegas my entire life, and the neighborhood Dixie’s is in has gotten a lot better.”
“Not really. The cops were there just last night.” He wanted to call her out on having lived in Vegas since her bio mentioned she’d been studying abroad since she was in the fourth grade.
“How do you know that? Where you there?” This time Sage’s voice sounded more level and less like she wanted to stuff him in a trash can.
“I have a lot of friends who are cops.” He’d been to one club this past week and not because he wanted to party, but because every once in a while, it was cathartic to remember where he’d come from. “Shall I call my friend at the Firehouse?”
“Sounds good to me,” Weslynn said.
“I’m sure he has better things to do than hang out with a couple of kids like us,” Sage said.
“Look,” he said. “I’m sorry that I implied you were a child, which you are clearly not. My attempt at a pickup line failed miserably. Can we start over?”
Sage tossed her head back and laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding me. That comment about me being old enough to drink was you trying to pick me up? Damn, old man, you’ve lost your touch.”
“You really think I’m an old man?” All the oxygen in his lungs escaped as if someone poked a hole in each one. It was slow, but it seemed impossible to fill them up again. “Because forty isn’t old.”
“No. It’s not,” Sage said, holding her phone up. “We’ll try out the Firehouse. I need the address.”
“That’s a quick change of heart,” he said, tapping the address into her phone. “I have my car. I can drive if you want.”
“I don’t get into cars with strange men, young or old.” Sage smiled, and if it were possible to actually knock someone’s socks off, his would be across the street. She waved her phone in his face. “I’ve ordered a Lyft.”
“That’s getting in a stranger’s car.” He winked.
“That’s different, and you know it.” Sage slipped back into her shoes, holding his biceps for support. Her delicate touch tingled against his muscles. “Our Lyft is here. Who do I ask for when we get to the club?”
“Ronnie.”
“We’ll see you there, if you dare, old man.” She pulled open the rear passenger door of a white four-door sedan. “Who are you picking up?”
Clayton smiled. Smart girl.
“Sage,” the driver of the Lyft said.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”
He hadn’t a clue, but he didn’t care. “Hell, yes.”
“That cowboy has to be the sexiest man alive.”
Sage didn’t disagree with Weslynn, but she wasn’t going to say the words out loud. “He’s okay to look at, but his personality is a little wonky.”
“What the hell does wonky mean?” Weslynn asked as she puckered her lips and brushed them with some gloss. “He’s been trying to get your attention all night.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. Besides, you heard Clayton’s so-called pickup line.” She knew she looked more like twenty than twenty-five. Her mother always told her that when she was forty or fifty, she’d been grateful for looking younger. But now, all it did was make her behave as though she had a stick up her ass.
“He was trying to be cute,” Weslynn said.
“It was creepy.” That was a total lie. From him, the words sounded endearing and sexy, but she didn’t allow those thoughts to linger in her brain for very long because she couldn’t believe a man like him would be interested in a woman like her. Their worlds were a million miles apart.
His mother had always been present, even if she’d been a prostitute, where Sage’s parents sent her off to boarding school because it was just too time-consuming to raise a child by themselves. She often wondered why her parents had a kid at all.
“You think he’s hot,” Weslynn said. “And I think you should go for it. When was the last time you had wild, out of this world, crazy sex?”
“None of your business.” But the reality was the last time Sage had any sex had been months ago with a random guy she’d met at a fundraiser who turned out to be a class A liar. To make matters worse, the sex had been less than stellar.
She slumped back in her seat, closed her eyes, and took in a deep breath.
Weslynn rested her hand on Sage’s thigh and gave it a good squeeze. “Stop thinking about your father. He’s not worth it.”
“I just wanted him to see what I’ve done and be proud of me.”
“Oh, just stop,” Weslynn said with a tinge of disgust. “You are the most well-put-together twenty-five-year-old I know. You’ve built this non-profit with your own two hands. You’re nearing your final payment of paying your father back every dime you’ve borrowed; you pay your own bills, and—”
“I live in one of my parent's many real estate properties.”
“You pay them rent,” Weslynn said, shaking her head. “You know, with everything in your life other than your parents and romance, you are the most confident and smartest person I know. You don’t need daddy’s approval.”
“It’s not just about approval.” All her life, she’d only wanted one thing, and that was to be part of something. She wanted to be part of a family. A real family. One where having a meal together was not an obligation used as a media stunt. “He didn’t come tonight because he couldn’t be bothered. This event doesn’t do anything for him. Being here wouldn’t have given my father anything but a headache.”
“Perhaps. But remember, Clayton barely goes to any of the charity events your mom has been a part of.”
Weslynn had a point, but Sage’s mother hadn’t created an entire foundation dedicated to raising money for social programs, diseases, or even disasters by the time she’d been twenty-three. Sure, her mother had a busy career as a corporate attorney, and Sage was very proud of her, but that didn’t help fill the void created by not having her parents in her life. Her mom and dad left, raising a kid to nannies, schools, and summer camps.
“You’re an amazing person. Now, let’s go out and have a good time. We deserve it,” Weslynn said.
The Lyft driver turned to the right.
He should have turned left.
Sage blinked her eyes open and sat up taller. “Excuse me,” she said. “We’re heading in the wrong direction.”
“No. We’re not,” the driver said as he raised his arm. He held a small handgun in his grip.
Sage gasped and grabbed Weslynn’s hand.
“What the hell is going on?” Sage sucked in a deep breath and forced her pulse to slow down as she tried to get a good look at the driver, but it was difficult sitting right behind him. In the review mirror, she caught a glimpse of part of his face, and he looked vaguely familiar.
Wait. Sage had seen the driver standing at the entrance of the club before they ordered their Lyft.
Shit. Could the driver have been waiting and listening to her conversation with Clayton?
“Where are you taking us?” Weslynn asked.
“You’ll find out soon enough, so just sit back and relax,” the man said.
Sage curled her fingers around the door handle and glanced over at Weslynn, who nodded.
On three, Sage mouthed. “What do you want with us
?” Sage asked, waiting until the vehicle slowed before making a run for it.
The man laughed. “I don’t want anything from either of you. I was hired to take you to a specific location, and that is exactly what I intend to do.”
“Who hired you, and for what reason? Because kidnapping me won’t get you a dime. My father cares more about his money than me.”
“For our sakes, I hope that’s not true,” Weslynn whispered as she pulled out a small pocketknife.
Sage inhaled sharply. One. Two. Three.
Weslynn jammed the knife into the hand that held the gun.
Pop!
“Motherfucking bitch,” the man said as the car swerved left, then right.
Weslynn slumped forward.
“No!” Sage reached in front of her friend and released the door before pushing Weslynn out of the car, Sage following only a couple of seconds later. Her body hit the pavement, and she skidded across the crushed gravel. She glanced up just as another car stopped only a few feet away. Her eyes stung, and the world around her blurred.
Just as the vehicle pulled out, another white sedan with the Lyft logo plastered on the dashboard rolled to a stop in front of him. He turned his head just as the car that Sage and her friend had gotten into braked at the light in front of the club. He leaned over and tapped on the window, making a mental note of the license plate of the other car.
“Who are you here to pick up?”
“Sage and that’s not you,” the driver said.
“Nope. I’m not.” He jogged around the hood of the car and made his way toward his vehicle that the valet had pulled forward. He jumped in his truck, resting his cell on his lap. He punched the gas and skidded into traffic five cars behind the one Sage had gotten into, ignoring all the people shouting at him to slow down.
“Hey, Siri, call Hank Patterson.” Clayton kept his gaze locked on the white sedan, making a right where it should have gone left.
“What’s going on?” Hank’s voice echoed out of the speaker on his phone.
“I’m following a car right now that I think is posing as a Lyft driver,” he said calmly, something he’d always been notorious for. Calm under fire. His mother told him never to let anyone see him sweat, and he took that probably a little too literal.
