by Skye Darrel
Amusement tinges Resnik’s voice.
I barely keep my voice in check. “Where is he?”
“No idea. I let him go. Asher, blaming me for Priscilla’s death will lead you nowhere. Last week, when you assaulted my guards and damaged my property, I could have pressed charges. Instead, I chose to let the matter drop. That’s the spirit of forgiveness you should have followed. But now things have escalated. Now we must have an accounting of your many insults against me—”
I end the call, get back in my Mustang, and shift the stick to high gear.
Lucky Cherries casino sits in the middle of the woods, about a mile west of town. There’s a sprawling parking lot, mostly empty at this time of this day, except for the red pickup trucks in employee parking.
I walk to the main entrance, which is designed to resemble a Greek temple. Sledge, a solid block of muscle, stands there with three other rough-looking men.
He smiles mockingly. The teeth I’d knocked out of him have been replaced.
“Get out of my way,” I say.
“You must have a death wish, Wade.”
“Try me, Sledge. See what happens. Our local dentists need the business.”
“Nah, I know what a crazy motherfucker you are. Go on in then. Mr. Resnik expects you, but I’d tread real careful. Keep your nose out of business that don’t concern you.” He leans closer. “That’s a lesson your sister didn’t get.”
My anger is not my own.
I brush past him and put my hand on the heavy door.
“Better look after your little girlfriend,” he says to my back. “Natalie, right? Shame if something were to happen. She has pretty lips.”
The men with him snicker.
I turn around on my heels, my scalp crawling. Fury boils up from the pit of my guts. “You’re wrong about me.”
“What?”
“You think I’m one of the good guys, Sledge. You think I follow rules like the police. But I’m not one of the good guys. I don’t give a shit about rules. You remember that the next time you visit your wife in Florida.”
His face falters. Sledge tries to keeps his personal life a secret. He thinks I don’t know his real name is Martin O’Henry, who has a young sweetheart living in another state, in another life, oblivious to the nature of his employment. If I wanted to, I could hurt him in all the ways a man can be hurt.
I think of Natalie and grit my teeth.
The truth is I do follow rules. I’d never touch Sledge’s wife. The rules are not for the enemy’s benefit, they’re for mine. Rules are the only thing between me and the abyss, between men and monsters. I learned that in the Army and learned it almost too late.
But Sledge doesn’t need to know I follow rules.
He’s still gaping when I head inside. Let him stew. Let him know what that feels like.
I make my way across the casino floor to the bar, which is five times the size of Juno’s bar. Everything glitters. The carpet is red, the game tables trimmed with polished wood, and the slot machines gleam with gold and brass. It’s an alluring palace, and underneath there is rot.
Sledge’s footsteps follow me.
I glance over my shoulder.
He’s not grinning anymore.
Up ahead, Titus Quinton lounges at the bar, that cowboy hat of his tilted to the side. He watches two women dancing on the bar top.
They wear thongs and heels and nothing else, and Titus directs them with gestures like a fucking orchestra conductor. He hoots. The women fondle each other’s bodies while he sips a glass of liquor.
I stop by his stool.
Titus tips his hat in greeting, his wrist wrapped in a cast. That’s my gift from the last visit.
“Wade,” Titus says. “And I was getting ready for an easy day.”
“I’m here to see Resnik.”
Titus taps his fingers on the bar. “You came alone?”
“Yes.”
“Not concerned for your health?”
“You’re all law-abiding citizens,” I say flatly. “Why should I be concerned?” More to the point, Resnik won’t make his move in broad daylight at his own casino. He’s always been careful to cover his tracks.
Titus pats the stool next to his. “Take a seat, the boss is busy. We got time.” He waves at the dancers, who glance at me nervously. “Meet Candy and Vanessa. New hires at the VIP Lounge. They’re practicing their set. These lovelies aren’t cheap, but Lucky Cherries is all about class.”
Titus cackles, and I want to break his wrist all over again.
“Do you like working here?” he asks the women.
Both nod.
“See, Wade? Nothing nefarious. Stay a while and enjoy the show. Vanessa has a killer lap dance.” Titus winks at me. “She and I are together, by the way. Might even put a ring on her finger. What do you think?”
Leon told me once there is no Mrs. Quinton and I’m not surprised.
If the woman I love were dancing in a strip club, I’d get her the hell out and beat the shit out of any man who looks at her the wrong way.
I think of Natalie. The man who hurt her is inches way. I could break Titus right here and call it a day. But I have a feeling she wouldn’t want that.
I look at the dancers and feel nothing but sympathy. It’s easy to see they’d rather be somewhere else.
This whole fucking place makes me sick.
“I’m here to speak with Verne,” I tell Titus.
“You disappoint me, hero. Here I am trying to be a good host, and you’re offending me. Vanessa and Candy not good enough? Or—maybe you only have eyes for that Natalie. That it, Asher boy? The one with the great hair?”
“Go near her again and I’ll kill you.”
Titus leans against the bar, showing off the sheathed knife at his belt. “Oh please, I barely touched the poor thing. I only wanted a souvenir from that pretty head of hers.”
Enough.
There’s a bank of mirrors high up on the far wall, right below the ceiling. It’s a one-way mirror. Resnik’s office is behind the glass and I bet he’s watching.
Grabbing a stool, I walk over there, standing under the mirrors, and get ready to throw.
A smooth voice sounds from a speaker, “No need for that. Titus, bring him up.”
“Gotta search you first, hero,” Titus says behind me.
He pats down my clothes while Sledge watches. Satisfied, Titus leads me through a set of double doors, down a corridor bathed in neon lights past a sign labeled VIP Lounge, and up a staircase to the second floor. Up here, it’s a goddamn office building, nothing sinister.
We enter an opulent office.
From this side, those mirrors I saw from below offer a sweeping view of the entire casino ground floor. Verne Resnik, wearing a dark suit, stands at the glass. He turns around when I step closer, his expression calm.
“Where is Leon?” I say.
Resnik takes a phone out of his desk and throws it to me. I already recognize the black ace of hearts sticker on the back. It’s Leon’s. The screen cracked and smeared with dried blood.
A message. Like the dead fox.
“You kill him?” I say.
Resnik sighs. “First Priscilla, now this. Please, Asher. I’m not the trained killer in this room. You are.”
“Where is he?”
“No idea. Haven’t seen Mr. Costello since he walked out of Lucky Cherries yesterday. Very much alive, as the security recordings will show, in case you want to involve the police. We found the phone this morning in his locker.” Resnik smiles. “But if something unfortunate did happen to him, it’s on you. You should be more careful when risking the lives of others.”
I put the phone in my pocket and face Resnik with five feet of air between us. “I know what you are, Verne. I know. So did Leon and Pris.”
“I am a legitimate businessman. Our town was dying before I opened my casino. I build things. I saved our community. You destroy. You are a misfit with a chip on your shoulder. You always were. You nev
er belonged anywhere. Not here, not in school, not in the Army. You have a sickness in your soul, Asher Wade. Where you go, death follows. That’s the truth.”
I glare at him, the hair on my neck standing on end.
He’s wrong.
He’s right, about me at least. He’s fucking right. I head for the door with the smug face of Titus floating at the edge of my vision.
“Asher,” Resnik says to my back. “How is Ms. Whipple doing?”
“Stay away from her.”
“If you abandon your foolish investigation, I may consider it. I once offered you a place at my table. That offer still stands. There’s no reason for us to be enemies.”
Verne Resnik’s gentle voice pulls at something deep inside me. I’ve known him all my life. We were like brothers once.
Then I think of Pris, the coroner photos of her skin chalk white, her face like she’s sleeping. The funeral had happened before I could get home, so that’s the last image I have of my baby sister.
I think of Natalie ganged up by four of his men, and I remember who Resnik is.
“See you soon,” I say at the door.
Titus escorts me downstairs to the front entrance.
“Have a safe drive,” he says. “The roads can be treacherous. Say hi to Natalie for me. Send my greetings to Juno too. It’s been a while since I had a beer at Goldilocks.”
I whirl around.
Titus smirks. “Something wrong, hero?”
“Tell Eli to stay away from Juno’s daughter.”
Titus seems caught off-guard, or it could be an act. “Eli?”
“I saw your kid with Cora Newlin at Goldilocks. I let him go this time. I might not next time. I might sit him down and ask some questions.”
Titus stares at me before his grin returns. “I’ll have a word with my boy. Off you go, hero.”
I stalk away toward my car, alert for any threat as the hot sun beats on my head. This heat does little to calm my anger. By the time I get behind the wheel, Titus has gone inside and the parking lot is dead quiet.
Leon Costello’s bloody phone weighs down my pocket before I stowe it in the glovebox. Nothing I can do for him now.
Not yet.
On the drive home, I turn my thoughts to Natalie.
19
Ugly Duckling
Asher
I drive down Beech Road past Gatsby’s house as the sun sets. My neighbor’s front hedges look sharper. Natalie cleaned up the rust from his mailbox too.
When I reach my driveway, she’s sitting on the front porch drawing in her notebook. There’s an open laptop to her right. Hansel rests on his belly to her left, tongue lolling lazily. Natalie smiles as I park. She’s wearing her floral summer dress that always brings out my lust.
I don’t know why she looks so good in this dress, but then again, anything she wears gets my cock hard.
Walking up the porch, I try to control myself, but I want nothing more in the whole world than this girl.
Hansel whines for me so I pet him in a hurry. He’s used to getting my undivided attention, but not tonight. I send him running to the backyard where he can chase his own dreams.
Mine’s in front of me.
“Hey,” Natalie says.
I sit beside her on the porch steps. The front door is open with the screen door shut.
“Raided your pantry earlier,” she says. Her breath smells of lemons and chocolate. “Hope you don’t mind. My sweet tooth itched.”
“You can have my pantry.”
“Sweet of you. Can I have your microwave too?”
“You can have anything.” I slip my arm around her waist and I nuzzle her hair. We watch the sky fade to purple.
“Other than raiding, how was your day, doll face?”
“It was fun, jerk-off. I scheduled three interested buyers for next week to tour Gatsby’s.”
“No one’s worried about the lunatic neighbor?”
“Nope. I put up new pictures of your lawn as proof the lunatic neighbor has seen the light. He’s now a responsible member of the neighborhood. In fact, I got a few messages asking if your house is for sale.”
“Yeah?”
“One lady chatted me on FaceTime, offered eight hundred thousand if the owner’s interested.” Natalie glances at me and says softly, “I told her he’s not. The owner grew up here. To him it’s priceless.”
Natalie knows my heart. I wouldn’t sell my Colonial for a billion dollars. Too many memories, some painful, but they’re all I have of Pris and Eugene. “You’re a doll, doll face.”
“And you’re a jerk,” she quips. “But you’re getting better.”
“You make me better.”
“Well, good.”
“What are you drawing?”
She shows me the page in her notebook. It’s a self-portrait, Natalie sitting on my porch.
“I’m shocked,” I say. “I thought you were a good artist.”
She looks up in alarm. “What’s wrong with it?”
“It looks like a goblin. You’re far more beautiful.”
“You’re just saying that. I know how to draw myself.”
“We’ve got work to do if that’s your self-image.”
She meets my eyes. “Oh? What kind of work?”
I kiss her mouth until she pushes me back to catch her breath. She puts the notebook away and adjusts her hair. She’s the most perfect woman on earth, I know this.
My cock knows it too, and I feel a throb that tingles to the base of my balls. “Show me your pussy, Princess. I need to taste you before I make you cum.”
Her face flushes. “You’re not shy about what you want, are you?”
I pull the screen door open before I scoop her into my arms. She feels soft and warm as I carry her upstairs toward the guest room. She looks so hot biting her lower lip I want to bite that lip myself.
“You don’t need to carry me everywhere,” she huffs in the hallway.
“I like carrying you.”
“Why don’t we go to your room?”
“My bed isn’t fit for your touch.” It’s a king-size, but I left the mattress purposefully thin. The room is also barren, with only the barest necessities, to keep my body alert and on edge. A reminder I don’t deserve comfort until my mission is complete.
My room is not fit for Natalie. She should be in a feather bed piled with pillows.
“Your bed is fine,” she says. “I already tested. Sorry, I explored a bit after lunch. You said I could.”
“Did you see the basement?”
She frowns. “No, the door was locked.”
I cradle her higher so I can kiss her forehead. “It’s locked for a reason.”
“Uh-huh. You’ll have to show me eventually. No secrets, remember? Oh, and I didn’t look in there either,” she nods at the two closed doors nearby, “I figured they’d belonged to Priscilla and Eugene.”
“They’re empty now.”
“Well. I didn’t check.”
“Check if you want. Pris and Eugene would like you.”
“Take me to your room,” she says. “Your bed.”
“My bed is hard, Natalie. Sure you don’t mind?”
“I mind that you live like a monk. And eventually we need to do serious interior decorating but right now it’s fine.” Her words tumble out in a heap and the excitement in her eyes make my cock jerk. “I want you to take me in your bed,” she adds in a shy voice.
“My bed it is,” I growl. “You better cum hard, doll face. I want the sheets to smell like your pussy.”
Natalie flicks her lashes innocently, but I know there’s nothing innocent about it.
I carry her to my room. I set her gently on this bed that’s never been graced by another woman. She bites her lip, pulling the skirt of her dress higher to reveal her closed thighs, and higher again. I stand like a statue with eyes riveted to my little tease, her cheeks flushing redder with every passing second.
She stops just short of her sweet place. “Guess what
color my panties are.”
I squeeze my cock through my pants with no shame. I want her to know how she affects me, how she rips me apart with this simple denial.
“Pink.” I pick up her left foot to suck on her toes. “Like your pussy.”
“Asher!”
I run my hand along her calf before I set her foot down. I take off my clothes with frenzied tugs and rips, my body dying from need.
“Enough guessing. Show me, little girl.”
She pouts and flips up her skirt to reveal baby blue panties patterned with white hearts, and a small ribbon adorns the front. The panties are snug on her full hips. My cock does a jerk on its own and a strand of cum leaks out of me.
“Hand them over,” I command.
She slips them slowly to her ankles then holds them up. Her pussy is flushed and wet, but I sniff her panties first, the cotton sweet with her scent. “If you keep teasing me, doll face, you’ll lose panty privileges.”
“Panty privileges?”
“That’s right. No more underwear in the house, so I know your pussy is always ready for me. So I can sit you on my lap anytime I want, and you’ll ride my cock like a good princess.”
“You’re ridiculous,” she stammers.
I stroke my lust faster, my pulse so fast and heavy I feel it under my palm. “Keep your dress on when I fuck you, but show me those perky titties.”
Natalie’s face turns bright scarlet as she peels down the top of her dress. I yank off her bra and suck on one breast, my tongue lashing her puffy nipple. Climbing onto the bed, I squeeze both tits before I run rub her wet folds and clit. She’s ready for me. I want inside her so bad my dick hurts. Yesterday I was balls deep in her virgin pussy, and today I’ll ravish her again.
“Asher,” she breathes, pressing her lips together. “Can I try something?”
“I’m yours, Princess.”
She sits up with her dress bunched around the middle, wagging a finger toward her mouth. When I understand what she means, heat kicks me in the guts and my balls tighten.
I rise to my knees.
She pulls her hair back in a messy bun before she shifts closer, and one small hand scoops around my sac, sliding up around my shaft to my burning tip. She looks at me from under her lashes.
