by Cat Miller
LUCKY DEVIL
A Lucky Devil Novel
CAT MILLER
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright ©2015 Cat Miller
All rights reserved.
Publisher: Vermillion House
Print Copyright
ISBN-13: 978-1519510792
ISBN-10: 1519510799
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or my any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, or otherwise, without expressed written permission of the author.
www.catmillerbooks.com
Cover design by Regina at Mae I Design and Photography
Edited by Ellie at LoveNBooks.com
Formatted by Joseph James Thomas
Published by Vermillion House
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thank you, thank you…
…To my friend and minion, Erin Volf, for keeping me organized, remembering everything I forget, for listening to me drone on about new story ideas, and for having my back when I need it most. I adore you.
…To the friend and proofreader, Rissa Machen, for dotting my i’s and crossing my t’s. We nerd girls must stick together.
…To all of the bloggers, tweeters, fb page owners, fellow authors, and reviewers who have supported me and my work. Your friendship is priceless.
To my readers: When I started writing, I told myself if I could touch just one person with my story all the work would be worthwhile. Little did I know then how many of you would touch me with your stories. Thank you.
CONTENTS
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
ONE
Luc Christianson peered through the security glass at the action in the pit of Hell, a private and somewhat illegal gaming and entertainment club he’d built on the ashes of his father’s hotel and casino. Of course, should law enforcement ever come knocking, everything would appear to be above board. He was no fool. He was in possession of the appropriate permits and various licenses needed to operate in Las Vegas. His more elicit business practices, well, there were contingency plans in place to keep those out of the prying eye of the law.
The lower level of Hell was known to the outside world as The Inferno Hotel and Casino, and it was open to the public. The Inferno had a full staff of waitresses dressed in little red uniforms that worked well in the devilish, fire and brimstone themed casino. The casino sported the usual slots, card tables, roulette, nightclub, and bar you’d expect to find on the Strip in Vegas. Above the casino was a luxury hotel. The upper level of Hell was for members only and provided higher stakes games, clubs with progressively less morality, and various other services to meet the needs of their more discerning members.
A background check, as well as financials was completed before anyone received membership to Hell. Luc didn’t have a problem working with criminals. He just wanted to know exactly how crooked you were when you walked through his doors. In most cases, new members needed to be sponsored by a current member to be allowed entry into the most exclusive and decadent club in Vegas. Hell wasn’t your average casino by any means. The clientele consisted of businessmen, mobsters, crooks, and some of the wealthiest and least ethical people in the world. The house was known for extending lines of credit to worthy clients. Worthy, meaning wealthy and usually unwise. It was the business class in most cases that broke the cardinal rule of gambling: Never bet more than you can afford to lose.
There was a quiet rap on the door to Luc’s private office before it opened, and Rourke, Hell’s head of security, silently drifted inside. Rourke also happened to be one of only two people in the world he’d consider a friend. They’d grown up in the same North Vegas neighborhood. But when they were working it was all business.
Luc continued observing the floor through a two-way glass wall. Rourke waited, still and dark, like the giant stone he seemed to be, until Luc turned to acknowledge his presence. The man was really intimidating with his icy eyes and sharp features. He was tall, broad, and serious looking in his dark suit. Rourke was always ready to react to any situation. He was a tough son-of-a-bitch you’d never see coming until it was far too late.
“Mr. Parker would like to extend his line of credit,” Rourke informed Luc in his standard monotone.
Luc turned to scan the tables for the man in question. Dean Parker was perched on the edge of his seat at a card table in the center of the pit. The high stakes games playing out in this area of the pit could make or break a man.
Parker was sweating and looking rather ill at the moment. A sure sign it was time to walk away and maybe even get some help. But Parker wouldn’t walk away. He was ready to risk it all. His opponent was a long time member, and the lady looked relaxed, bored in fact, as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She wasn’t about to break the bank for anyone.
Luc reached for his tablet and pulled up Parker’s file. The man was already in far over his head, but far be it from Luc to pass up an opportunity to profit.
“What is Parker willing to put up for collateral?” Luc asked.
There was an unusual silence before the answer was given, telling Luc that Rourke disagreed with the extension of credit, but he’d never express the thought aloud.
“Parker Ridge. It’s the family home and business out in Colorado. They’re cattlemen,” Rourke informed.
Luc tapped on his tablet screen and did a quick search to find Parker Ridge was a family owned and operated business on four thousand acres of pristine property that was doing a solid business in the raising and sale of organic beef. Organic, huh? Wasn’t that the new buzz word in healthy eating? Organic food was expensive and taking over the market.
“Extend the credit. If he loses, revoke his membership.” This was a business after all, not a charity. You had to know when to cash out. Who knew who else in town Parker owed? If he was in with a loan shark as deep as he was with Luc, Dean Parker would be dead sooner than later.
Rourke turned on silent feet and headed for the door. “Rourke,” Luc called.
“Yes, sir.”
“Get the paperwork signed first.”
“As always, sir.” Rourke continued to the door.
“Rourke.”
Yes, sir.”
“Don’t let him make a scene on my floor.” Luc hated to see the atmosphere of the pit disturbed. It made people stop and think about their poor choices.
“Yes, sir,” Rourke replied before closing the office door.
There was a slight echo of something like guilt in Luc’s gut. He pushed it down. This was a business. Dean Parker knew what he was doing. If he chose to bet the farm, literally, that was his prerogative. Luc had known men who bet things far more valuable than land. Far more precious objects had been sacrificed on that floor in his father’s day.
Through the window, he watched as Rourke gave an affirmative signal to Dolce, Hell’s head pit boss. She raised an inquiring dark eyebrow at Rourke, and icy eyes met eyes so dark they were nearly black. Rourke just shrugged. Clearly, Dolce had also expected Luc to decline the request for further credit.
Dolce was an elegant and demanding
presence at all times in her black tailored suit, tidy chignon, and ultra-high heels. She was a beautiful woman and an unusual choice for pit boss, but the lady knew her cards and ran the floor like a machine. She could spot a card counter a mile away, and the dealers feared making mistakes in the presence of Dolce. She handled the paperwork, schedules, and supervised all aspects of running the floor with an iron fist and a sharp stiletto high heel for anyone who stepped out of line. She and Rourke made up the dream team Luc depended on to keep Hell and The Inferno running smoothly. She also happened to be Luc’s other longtime friend who’d grown up with him and Rourke.
After only a brief hesitation Luc knew stemmed from a pesky conscience, not disrespect for her employer, Dolce did her job as expected, and informed Dean Parker that he was approved for further play after signing the appropriate document.
Parker sighed with relief as he signed away his life, and the dealer got back to work. The lady on the other side of the table slowly shook her head. She knew a fool when she saw one as well. A crowd had formed around the table as often happened when there was a huge pot at stake. Luc couldn’t see the game in progress on the table, but he knew when it was over. The assembled crowd cringed in sympathy for the man who had lost a fortune at the blackjack table. The lady with all the luck was cashing out with Dolce while she was ahead, like a good little girl should, and Parker appeared to be challenging her to another game.
Rourke was at the ready to assist Parker to his feet. There was only a short struggle, which Rourke put a quick end to with a stern look and strong arm, before Parker allowed himself to be quietly led away from the table and toward the nearest security exit and out of Hell.
Dolce’s lovely, pale face stared up at the mural of his namesake falling from heaven with a look of disappointed resignation. She couldn’t see him but she knew he was there watching. Luc didn’t have the same sense of morality that led the lady of Hell. He wouldn’t let another man’s poor choices weigh on him ever again. He was the new owner of Parker Ridge. It was a good night. He’d make a more than tidy profit from its dismemberment and sale. The guilt for that inevitable event belonged on Dean Parker’s shoulders, no one else’s.
Luc, Lucifer Christianson, shook himself and turned away from his pit boss’s sad eyes. He slid into his dinner jacket and adjusted his diamond cuff links. He had a date awaiting his attention. It was time to relax. Tension and stress were an unavoidable companion in his line of work, but lately he’d been feeling restless and at loose ends. His business was thriving. Life was good. There was no reason for him to feel so fucking melancholy. He’d been working too much, that was it he was sure. A vacation might be in order. All he needed now to straighten out his head was a nice long ride on a female who knew her place, at his knees.
* * *
Everly Parker had just stabled Tinsel, her paint mare, and was in the tack room putting away her saddle when Kennedy shouted her name from the aisle. She cringed. She was day dreaming about the new cowboy her brother had hired. Dusty was everything a cowboy should be, strong, manly, and sexy as hell. He was such a gentleman too.
Dusty was in the barn when she rode in and he’d helped her down from Tinsel’s back. She didn’t need help, but she liked having his big hands on her body so she didn’t complain. Dusty was brushing Tinsel down for her while she dealt with the tack. Her sister’s cry had pulled her from a lovely fantasy about those big hands and what she wanted Dusty to do with them. It was obvious from the panicked tone of Kennedy’s voice that trouble was brewing.
Their father had been missing for a week, but Everly wasn’t worried, not really. Ever since the sudden death five years ago of their mother, the saint of a woman that was Rose Parker, their father had been prone to take off in a fit of rage at the universe or wander away in the depths of depression from time to time. He would show up a few days later like nothing had happened, and he’d get back to work. Over the last couple of years their father had gone on vacation a few times and Everly was hopeful that he might be coming back to them, but his trips to Vegas seemed to be doing him more harm than good. He was drinking too much and gambling.
Their mother had been killed by a drunk driver on her way home from holiday shopping in town one snowy December day, and their lives would never be the same. Her older brother, Mills, had become the man of the house. He was only twenty-five at the time, but he’d been raised to run the ranch and work the cattle just like the three generations of Parker men before him. Dean Parker lost his will to continue running the ranch when he lost his wife. He was there every day to give his opinion and advise Mills, but he didn’t take an active hand in the operations. He’d saddle up each morning and ride out with the cowboys to ride the fences and herd the cattle like any other hand, but it was like he was just going through the motions of life until the end came and he could join his beloved Rose again. Everly’s heart broke all over again every time her daddy went off the deep end.
“I’m in here,” Everly shouted to her sister.
Everly felt most sorry for Kennedy in all of this. Everly had been twenty-two when they lost their mother. Kennedy was just twelve. So Everly had become the mother and father to her little sister when their father withdrew into himself. Mills really tried to be an active part of raising Kennedy, but his hands were so full with the ranch and business that he just couldn’t always be there. Everly was grateful that her little sister was such a good kid. They’d never had a bit of trouble from her. Now at seventeen, Kennedy was about to graduate from high school and go off to college to become a large animal vet. She wanted to come back to the ranch and do her part to support the family business and surrounding farms that often needed a vet but had to travel to the next town for care. Often the life or death of an animal depended on getting care quickly. That was a problem in their area.
“You’d better hurry!” Kennedy panted from the doorway. “Daddy and Mills are fighting!”
“Fighting?” Everly asked. Daddy must be drunk again.
“Yes! Mills is calling him all sorts of bad names! He says Daddy ruined us. I don’t know what that means, but I think Mills might kill him! Please hurry!” Kennedy’s green-grey eyes, the eyes that exactly matched Everly’s and Mills’, the eyes they’d all inherited from their mother, filled with tears.
Everly dropped the bridle she’d been putting up and hugged her sister. “I’ll straighten it all out. Don’t you worry about a thing.”
Together they hustled back to the big house. Near the back door, the sound of breaking glass and cursing reached them. This was bad. Really bad. Everly pushed through the kitchen door to find her father and brother rolling around on the remains of the kitchen table that had been standing in the center of the room for generations. Beyond the kitchen, she could see a path of destruction that began at their father’s office door. The office that only Mills ever used.
There were several cowboys standing around, but they didn’t seem to know what to do. “Break them up or there won’t be a house left!” she yelled over the ruckus.
The cowboys, having been given permission to interfere in a family matter, quickly separated the men, but Mills got in one more good shot first. Their father was sprawled in a heap on the remains of the table. Mills was panting and swearing when he shook off the cowboys’ restraining arms. His blond hair was disheveled. Blood trickled from his mouth and nose. His broad muscled chest heaved in aggravation. He looked at the mess around him and seemed to get even madder. Kennedy made a frightened sound behind Everly and drew their attention. The fight drained out of Mills. He looked back and forth sadly between his sisters.
“He’s done it.” He pointed to the prone figure on the floor. “He’s finally ruined us.”
“Mills, what is going on here?” Everly moved out of Kennedy’s way so she could kneel by their father.
“His gambling has gotten out of control. I didn’t want to worry you, but I was trying to get him help. He wouldn’t listen! He just wouldn’t listen! Now he’s done it! H
e bet the fucking ranch!”
“What? He did what?” Everly’s mind froze. This wasn’t possible. Daddy couldn’t, he wouldn’t gamble with their livelihood. It was their future and that of his grandchildren. Mills had to be wrong. “He can’t do that! It’s a business, a family business! You run this business, not him! And the land is ours! It’s been in our family for generations!” Everly was trying to calm her brother, but she only succeeded in getting herself worked up.
“Everybody out!” Mills pointed toward the back door. The ranch hands all looked at her to be sure it was safe to leave. She just nodded. It was obvious Mills didn’t want anyone outside of the family to hear what he had to say. The cowboys slowly filed out, dragging their feet as if afraid to leave her and Kennedy with the brawling men.
Mills stomped off down the hall to the office and returned with a thick document, which he handed to her. She quickly scanned the contents, her heart sinking with every word. Dean Parker’s signature graced the bottom of the last page of a legal contract, a loan of sorts. He’d put up Parker Ridge as collateral against a mountain of gambling debt. The debt was nowhere near the worth of the multimillion dollar ranch and business, but their father had bet it all at a private club in Vegas. The house, the land, the business, everything. All of it gone.
“This can’t be legal. There’s no way. If we have to, we’ll just pay off the loan. They can’t take the ranch if we pay off the debt.” That was it. It would hurt but they could pay off the loan and be done with it. It wasn’t so bad, was it?
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Everly! There’s nothing left after I paid off his last round of gambling debt!” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and bent to retrieve his hat from the floor.
What was Mills talking about? This had happened before? Why hadn’t he told her?
