The Job (Auctioned)

by Cara Dee

  I’d made it about work. The rage I hadn’t been able to contain, I blamed on work. I said it was fucking stupid to jeopardize our focus by getting laid while we were working together. They thought I was overreacting, that it was nothing, that it was just sex, no strings, no attachment—didn’t matter to me. I couldn’t unsee them. The jealousy had blazed through me, and I’d known I was beyond screwed.

  It was the first time I’d asked him to promise me never to bring a woman around when I was nearby. I just couldn’t stomach watching it.

  Once we’d cooled off, he’d agreed, without understanding why it mattered that much to me.

  “No, I can’t figure it out,” Boone said after a moment’s silence. “I’ve fuckin’ tried, Case.”

  Could he be that blind? Nearing the end, when I’d felt myself approaching my breaking point, I hadn’t been subtle. I’d been downright possessive of him. I’d lied in order to spend more time with him too—away from others. He’d suggested a bar; I’d told him I wasn’t feeling too hot and that we should stay in and watch movies. He’d invited me to a party; I’d derailed him with an out-of-the-blue trip to LA because he loved going to the beach. He’d proposed a gig with some woman he’d fucked in the past; I’d made up a bullshit excuse about it being too risky.

  The jealousy had festered to the point where I’d felt genuinely ill.

  “Try harder,” I replied quietly. “If a woman told you not to see another woman, you’d suspect jealousy, wouldn’t you?”

  I heard him opening the patio door in the background. A beat later, I heard the flick of a lighter being lit. It wasn’t often he smoked cigarettes, and Ma wouldn’t allow weed at home.

  “You’re not some woman,” he said.

  “Astute observation, big brother.”

  Every other time I’d thought about coming clean to him, I’d been filled with panic. Now, nothing remotely close to it. My breaths came out steady, my pulse wasn’t spiking, nausea wasn’t crawling up my throat.

  I guess, in a way, I’d run out of things to lose. Only Ace mattered as much as Boone’s well-being. The rest was secondary.

  “Case…”

  He got it now, didn’t he?

  I swallowed. Nervousness flared up and rattled around, but I could live with that.

  “The last time really fucking hurt.” I stared up at the ceiling and couldn’t stop the memories from four years ago from rushing back. “You did that on purpose.” They hadn’t even been screwing. I’d been working late, Ace had spent the night at Ma’s place, and I’d come home to find Boone getting head on the couch from a downstairs neighbor.

  Good times.

  He’d known exactly when I was due home.

  “Jesus Christ.” His voice sounded raw, like he’d been chain-smoking for fifty years instead of one smoke every now and then. “I wish I’d known, Case. I was… Fuck. I was dealing with my own shit back then, and I wanted to make sure you didn’t think— I don’t know. My head’s a mess. And I guess it’s been a mess for a while.”

  Make sure I didn’t think what?

  “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he murmured. “I’m sorry I lost you.”

  Those words packed a punch harder than I was equipped to deal with right now. I didn’t wanna dwell. In fact, I was suddenly itching to change the topic. I’d told him the truth. It was out there now. Maybe if he understood me better, we could figure shit out.

  “You didn’t lose me permanently,” I said, clearing my throat. “We’ll find a way that works for both of us, okay? I want you to feel better—that’s my priority.” I paused and decided we’d had enough of the heavy now. I didn’t like getting all serious. “Breakfast is another priority. When you’re done moping because you stuck your tongue down your brother’s throat, swing by with food. I want two Sausage McMuffins and two hash browns.”

  Thank fuck we had a lot to do in the days that followed, because Boone’s transformation was so instant it nearly gave me whiplash. He was cracking jokes again. His batteries were charged. He smiled more. And he was determined that we’d “find our way back to each other.” His words.

  I also caught him studying me sometimes, and I didn’t like it. It felt like the obvious question was on the tip of his tongue. The one where he asked if I still harbored those feelings for him.

  So far, he’d steered clear of any topics that might be sensitive, probably because he knew that if he prodded, I would do the same, and he didn’t wanna discuss the day that’d ended with him kissing me.

  To be honest, neither did I. We’d finally found a common ground where we could work and hang out together without hostility in the air, and I wanted to savor that.

  “Hey, Mac.”

  “You again,” he chuckled.

  I smirked and planted my laptop on the top counter he sat behind, day in and day out. Well, when he wasn’t out in the trailer park playing handyman.

  “You know the drill,” he said.

  I nodded and connected my laptop to his printer via Bluetooth, and I hit print on all seventeen pages. Then I fished out my wallet and did advanced math in my head. One quarter for each printout.

  I slapped a five on the counter. “You got any single-wides for sale these days?”

  He looked up from his computer. “’Fraid not. Just two doubles. Why, you not happy with your lot?”

  “It’s for my brother. He’s looking for a place.” Or he would be, once this job had paid off.

  I wouldn’t mind having him close. It’d make shit a lot easier for Ace too.

  “I’ll let you know as soon as something opens up,” Mac replied, giving me my change.

  “Thanks, man.” I closed my laptop again and walked over to the printer on the side of the front desk. After collecting the printouts and quickly clearing the printer history, I walked out of the office again and checked the time on my phone.

  We had a couple hours left before Boone was picking up Ace from school, and then we had some special plans we hoped would make our girl’s day.

  I jogged up the steps to my newly painted porch and noticed Boone had stowed away the seat cushions to the chairs while I was at the front office.

  “Yo,” I said, entering the trailer. “I’m ready to lay the puzzle.”

  Boone emerged from the kitchen with two beers and a bag of pretzels. “I put the tape on the TV.”

  Great. Together, we started attaching the printouts to the wall next to the TV. It helped to have the bigger picture right in front of us, literally. Twelve pages made up the floor plan of the room block the Langes had reserved for their stay. Twenty-eight suites on the forty-fifth floor of the Palazzo tower.

  The remaining printouts were of the junior ballroom they’d booked.

  I took a step back, folded my arms over my chest, and chewed on my thumbnail.

  Something wasn’t adding up.

  “What’s wrong?” Boone asked.

  “This can’t be all of it,” I replied.

  “Because the ballroom seats more guests than they’ve booked rooms for?” he guessed. “They’re probably only springing for suites for the closest.”

  No, that part made sense. “It’s not that. Look at the suites. They’re all the same.” It was their standard luxury suite. “No matter how much I love Mom, she’d be in a regular room while I grabbed the honeymoon suite if I ever got married.”

  Boone frowned. “No one’s getting married, Case. It’s a birthday celebration.”

  I waved that off as semantics. “Same principle. Alfred Lange is supposedly the head of this huge crime organization, and it’s his birthday. I can’t imagine him staying in the same kind of suite as the rest of the inner circle. Either we’re missing something—maybe there’s a penthouse suite booked under a different name, I don’t know—or Alfred and his wife aren’t staying at the hotel at all.”

  Boone furrowed his brow at the floor plan and mirrored my stance.

  Hopefully, we’d get some answers tonight. We were meeting up with Laney for dinner at th
e Venetian at eight, and she was bringing a friend—namely, the woman who’d been assigned to assist the Langes with their party planning.

  I needed clues.

  According to Laney, the woman had a thing for tatted, mysterious bad boys, so I guessed I was gonna pretend to be straight tonight. And mysterious. And bad.

  I should clue Boone in on that. “By the way, we’re doing some role-play tonight,” I said, keeping my stare fixed on the floor plan. “I gotta be available to that woman Laney’s bringing. She’s into elusive bad boys.”

  “Who’re gay?” he asked without missing a beat.

  I chuckled and clapped him on the back. “I won’t be gay tonight.” I could tell he wasn’t satisfied with the response, which led me to believe he was wondering why I didn’t just tell him to do the role-play. And I didn’t want him to think it had anything to do with jealousy, because it seriously didn’t. “I would’ve told you to do it if it wasn’t for the fact that you can’t act elusive to save your life. You may look like a bad boy, but we all know you’re the family teddy bear who’s nicer than Santa.”

  “Santa ain’t fuckin’ nice. He spies on people, keeps lists, and denies kids presents if they’re not livin’ up to his standards.”

  I grinned at him and shook my head. “Only a nice guy like you would point that out, so case closed.”

  He huffed, then muttered under his breath. “I can be elusive.”

  Sure, sure.

  “So what’re we telling Ace?” he asked.

  I shrugged and scratched my arm. “I don’t think we have to tell her a whole lot. We’ll just let her know that I’ll be trying to catch that woman’s interest in order to get information.”

  If there was one thing Ace loved, it was to “work” with her daddies, even if only for the moment. Ma would have to stand in as babysitter sooner or later.

  “Oh my gosh, this is so exciting!” Ace squealed behind her hands. “Wait, he’s gonna open the door for you, Daddy.”

  I smiled and stepped out of the cab, then extended a hand to Ace.

  “Welcome to the Venetian, sir. May we assist you with any luggage?”

  “All good, thanks. We’re traveling light,” I replied.

  The starstruck look in Ace’s eyes as she looked up at the lights in the valet bay of the resort made my day. She’d been here before, more than once, but never as a hotel guest. When we’d told her we were spending the night, she’d lit up like a Christmas tree.

  The three of us cleaned up good when we wanted to. Both Boone and I had donned dress pants and proper shirts, and Ace was sporting a classy black dress and had a bow in her hair.

  I’d stolen a moment earlier back home when I’d stood in the kitchen doorway and watched Boone help her with her hair. Him in those charcoal pants that made his ass look like…fuck me. The pale gray fabric of his shirt stretching around his muscular arms… Ink peeking out from under his cuffs and collar. An affectionate smile at Ace’s animated rambling about something, all while he tucked a piece of hair that’d come loose back into the hairband and adjusted the cute bow just so.

  Those memories were my favorite.

  The three of us made our way inside the hotel, Boone carrying our only bag, and Ace got in between us and grabbed our hands. She gazed up at the high ceiling and marveled at the luxurious design. I couldn’t remember if she’d been in this area of the resort before, but it was impressive for someone who’d been here a hundred times over the years, too.

  Even as a resident, as someone who’d grown up in this town, I found the hotels and casinos along the Strip a bit magical. If I was just driving from one side of town to the other, I did everything in my power to avoid this part, and I loathed the tourists who couldn’t drive, but…yeah. Coming here from time to time, to eat, to gamble a little, to have a good time, was a treat.

  We went through check-in without a hitch, and I gave them a credit card with a name that matched the one Laney had put on the reservation. I wasn’t born yesterday. No matter how innocent our stay was, I knew what kind of privacy policy these places had. In a hot second, your personal information could be available to third parties in other countries where they gave no shits about integrity.

  Cash was king. So was making reservations through friends or over the phone. The internet was only a great tool if you knew how to use it. Otherwise, it was a digital fingerprint.

  “You remember our rules for the Strip, baby?” Boone asked Ace as we headed for the elevators.

  People everywhere—Christ. These hotels were more like their own towns. The Venetian alone had over six thousand suites, several pools, lounges, and nightclubs, two massive floors packed with shops and restaurants, around twenty ballrooms, and every detail was Italian extravagance.

  “Duh,” Ace replied, skipping into an empty elevator. “Someone’s always paying attention. Definitely no shoplifting.”

  I laughed.

  We went up to the forty-fifth floor, and Boone and I got out our phones. He was to take pictures of everything, and I was gonna record a video.

  Despite the heavy security, most hotels actually had very little surveillance on the hotel floors. If any at all. The Venetian didn’t.

  “Get behind us, sweet pea,” I instructed. “By the way, did you turn off your phone?”

  “Yes, sir. I ain’t accepting The Man’s cookies, and he can’t take my geographic data and biology information.”

  I smiled, damn proud of her.

  So was Boone. “You’re gonna go far, you know that? And I think you mean geolocation and biometric information.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  I kept my amusement to myself and trailed down the corridor toward our room, stopping briefly at emergency exits and maintenance spaces to record for Darius.

  In just a few weeks, this floor would be flooded with human traffickers and murderers.

  Opening the door to our suite, I wondered who would stay in here. Maybe a rapist? An inner circle security guard? A hit man?

  The door closed behind me, and I peered into the luxurious bathroom and had a feeling Ace would want a bubble bath before we checked out. She’d have dinner with us, and then Ma would come watch her for a few hours while Boone and I tried to get our hands on information. Solid plan, I thought.

  Christ, rich people couldn’t even have the toilet in the same room as the bathtub—it had to be in its own little space.

  Past the entryway was the bedroom area, taken up mostly by an oversized king bed.

  An actual railing divided the suite, and I stepped down in the sunken living room area where a big L-shaped couch, table, desk, and entertainment unit sat. Not to mention a spectacular view of the Strip. I filmed it all, just in case Darius wanted video of the inside too. By the time I was done, Boone came in with Ace.

  “Oh my God!” Ace was in love, evidently. “Look how big the bed is, Dad!”

  She jumped up on the bed and declared it the best in the world.

  Boone walked my way and said he’d taken pictures of everything.

  “Perfect.” I’d send it all to Willow tomorrow. “Ace, did you see the bathtub?”

  She instantly flew off the bed and darted into the bathroom.

  “You haven’t once mentioned any expenses. We’re supposed to split those.” Boone glanced around us before his gaze landed on the impressive view. “How much was this room for a night?”

  I shrugged. “Laney got us a 40% discount.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  I raked my teeth across the corner of my lip and scratched my eyebrow. “You said you were short.”

  “Not on cash for—you know, this kinda shit. I still have my buffer. I just can’t afford a good place to live yet. I’m done with roach-infested apartments and shacks that are one Santa Ana wind away from fallin’ apart.” He folded his arms over his chest, visibly determined. “I want a nice house for Ace to grow up in.”

  I couldn’t help but get defensive. “What’s wrong with the w
ay I live? She has her own room. We go to the pool sometimes. I take her wherever she wants to go.”

  “And your neighbor has a meth problem.”

  “He moved out! He got arrested. He’s not there anymore.”

  He rolled his eyes at me. “You know what I mean, Case. Don’t tell me you’re planning on spending the rest of your life at that trailer park. There’s a reason you haven’t sold off the gold bars from that stunt we pulled in Lake Tahoe six years ago. You’re saving up for something.”

  Damn Mom for tattling.

  I didn’t know exactly what I was saving for, only that college and houses were pricey.

  “Ladies?” a suspicious voice asked behind us. “You’re not fighting, are you?”

  We turned around and faced our daughter, and it was hard not to smirk at the little shit. She tried to look all demanding and ready to scold us, hands on her hips, eyebrow cocked.

  “Does that sound like something we would do?” Boone walked over to her and quickly scooped her up, and without much difficulty, bunched up her dress to blow raspberries on her stomach. “Huh? Answer me, Aisley Paisley. Does that sound like something we would do?”

  She wailed with laughter and tried fruitlessly to shove him away.

  I checked my watch.

  “Guys, we have an hour till dinner,” I said.

  Ace gasped through a laugh while Boone continued his assault. “I wanna shop! I wanna go where they give you pretty—gah, stop it, Daddy! Pretty, pretty paper bags instead of plastic bags.”

  She sounded like Ma. She felt special when she went to the outlet mall and they handed her whatever she’d bought in one of those boutique-type of bags instead.