Cane’s stare heated as his gaze drifted over Charlie. “Now, why would I do that when I have…?”
She put her hand on Cane’s hard chest, ready to push passed him, but stalled for a moment. “Let’s not finish that thought, buddy.”
“Oh, I’m buddy now?” Cane teased. “I guess we can call it that. We’re the kind of buddies who…”
She placed a finger over his mouth. “Let’s keep that one to yourself too. We’re at work, and that thing you’re doing…with your…eyes.” She paused, locked in his stare briefly. That thing he was doing with his eyes began to flutter low in her belly. Coming to her senses, she shook away the daze he had her in. “Stop it, O’Reilly. Jesus. You’re acting like a horny teenager.”
“Given the buddy system you have us practicing at home,” he began, his voice dropping to a sultry timbre, “can you blame me?”
“And this is why we can’t have nice things.” Fully aware of the effect Cane’s imagination was having while revisiting the mere hours’ old memory of their afternoon shenanigans — the naked kind — Charlie finally passed by him sure to brush against the bulging ridge he was now sporting. She whispered as her hand lightly grazed his excitement, letting him know she was fully aware of the ideas dancing around in his handsome head. “But maybe later we can…if you play your cards right.”
A barely-there breath escaped Cane as he watched Charlie make her way — sexy swagger in check — to the blonde couple he suddenly had a deeper dislike for. They were her priority while he was left to hide behind the counter until what he called the Charlie effect wore off and he could comfortably walk again without making women swoon, and most men uncomfortable, over the swell in his pants.
“Mr….Windsor, was it?” Charlie asked the blond weasel who was priority one on Cane’s private hit list.
“Windsor, ah…yes. Phillip Windsor.” He stalled, waiting for awareness to wash over Charlie. “Of the Berkshire Windsors?” When Charlie offered an awkward nod indicating the name meant something to her, the man went on. “This lovely steed is my wife. Elizabeth,” the man said with certain confidence.
Cane snorted. Did he really just call his girl a horse? He wasn’t entirely current on English slang, but he was certain a steed was still a horse. This guy wasn’t fooling anyone…was he?
“Windsor,” Charlie repeated, brows furrowed as her mouth did this quirky twist that often-accompanied thinking. “Why is that so familiar? Have we met before? I could have sworn this is your first stay here with us.”
Cane knew exactly why it sounded familiar. Windsor was also a castle in England where a dude named Phillip lived…with his wife Elizabeth. As in Queen Elizabeth. Do people really fall for this shit?
“No, mate. I don’t believe we’ve met. Maybe we’ve made your news or tabloids and that’s where you know us from,” Phillip replied.
Cane rolled his eyes at Phillip’s use of the Australian slang. Seemed the guy was still confusing the two countries. Cane muttered under his voice, “Excellent, the royal family is in town.”
“Pardon me, sir?” The man, Phillip Windsor, said with a heavily offended English accent this time. “Is there a…problem? You know, we left our last hotel because they had the audacity to tell me I couldn’t use the helicopter to take my lovely lady to the Grand Canyon for a picnic. I must’ve played one, maybe two large, just last night on the tables, and they couldn’t fly us out to lunch. Are we going to get the same treatment here, sir?”
“No.” Cane plastered on a smile. “Not at all. I just wasn’t aware we had royalty staying with us. As the head of hotel security,” Cane emphasized security to make a point, “I would have thought your…people would have reached out to ensure proper protocols were in place. By the way, your steed…she’s lovely.” Then, he mumbled, “Bet you ride’er hard and fast — a good two-minute guy.”
The woman, Elizabeth the steed, giggled and bowed her head as she extended her hand to Cane. Unsure how to react, and not interested in kissing the hand that had just been God knows where while all but dry humping Phillip of Windsor — or was it Berkshire? — in the hotel lobby, Cane opted for a firm handshake while Phillip could be seen tamping down panic as he searched for a recovery story.
“It’s Duke, actually. Of the non-royal affiliation,” Phillip said, pleased with his quick rebound. “I know many of your…class confuse us with royalty, but we simply…aren’t,” Phillip said with a certain air about him. “We’re more…the socialite type. Perhaps you could say, royalty of the Gold Coast. Afterall, we do have the largest properties and yacht and throw the best parties.”
“Gold Coast?” Cane raised his brow.
“Yes…sir. That’s where we live.” Phillip nodded with a subtle chuckle intended to be more insulting than endearing.
Cane wore a satisfied smirk and added an ounce of pomp and circumstance to his own tone. “I was certain you said you were from Berkshire, by way of England.”
“Yes. Yes, I did,” Phillip snorted. “You feeling okay, ol’ chap?”
“Gold Coast is Australia. Explains the accent, I guess.” Cane couldn’t wait to hear what his new globetrotting conman had up his sleeve next. He’d probably never set foot on either country’s soil.
It was Elizabeth who gave it away, wearing the caught in the act expression first, and it was oh-so-pleasing for Cane to see. He liked to make things really uncomfortable and watch people squirm.
Phillip was good at his game, however. Quick on his toes, fake accent firmly placed in Australia now. “Oh, yes, mate. We do have a home down under as well. You know, the toilets there, they flush in the opposite direction than they do here.”
“Do they now?” Cane asked as he grabbed his bottled water from the counter, completely aware of the side-eye he was earning from Charlie.
“Wow,” Charlie interrupted. “Sounds…interesting. How about we get you two cunts upstairs to your suite. I’m sure you’ll find it to your liking.”
Cane sprayed water from his mouth in an effort to avoid choking. Charlie gasped, shocked at his display of rude behavior, unaware it was her statement which provoked the spit bath.
“Excuse me?” Elizabeth said, wide-eyed, grasping at her chest in offense. Oddly, she carried neither an English or Australian accent.
“How dare you.” Phillip turned his nose up just so he could look down at Charlie. “Is this how you treat all your guests? First, we get the fifth degree from this…this…Neanderthal,” he said, pointing to Cane. “Now name calling?”
“Name calling?” Charlie’s cheeks turned crimson. “I’d never… I mean… I…”
She looked to Cane, who was laughing — something he didn’t do often. Or ever. If it weren’t already obvious, the Windsors of England, by way of Australia, were quite offended, and total frauds.
“It’s third degree,” Cane corrected. “And I’m simply interested in making sure we have the appropriate staff in place to satisfy your security while staying with us…since you don’t have your own detail.” Cane nodded. “I think Miss Adams is using cunt as an endearing term, not derogatory — after all, it’s native Australian slang. But I’m sure you’re already putting that together, given you’re from Australia.”
“Oh,” Phillip said, grabbing a handkerchief from his breast pocket to wipe his brow. “I suppose you’re right. I hadn’t thought of that. Seems we’ve been in the states a little too long if we’re forgetting the language back…home.” Phillip wrapped his arm around the girl he was with, plastered on a million-dollar smile, and hollered, “We’re all just a bunch of cunts around here! Yes, please. Show us to our suite. This cunt could use a nap.” He bumped Elizabeth’s hip with his own.
Elizabeth’s face soured. “Yes. Please do.” She fixed her glare on Phillip. “This cunt smells like he needs a shower. Too much time in the smoky casino.”
“Of course,” Charlie swayed from one foot to the other, trying to avoid eye contact. It had reached awkward and beyond with all the C-bombs. “Kandi will
escort you up. Please let her know if there is anything you should need.”
A dramatic thank you, drenched in a poor attempt at an unrecognizable accent, rolled off Phillip as he and Elizabeth made their way to the elevator.
“Okay,” Charlie cited, “you may be right. I don’t know what they’re up to, but it’s definitely suspicious. I guess we keep an eye on them and hope for the best. Can I count on you for that? I have my schedule blacked out for Mr. Davenport. He should be arriving any time. At least we know he isn’t fake anything. True blue, salt of the earth, bagillionaire — that’s a word.”
“Yeah. I got the Windsors. I have a feeling they’ll be a royal pain in the ass.” Cane chuckled as he made his way around the counter, headed for his office door. “Davenport sounds fake too. It’s too obvious. Aren’t all rich guys named Davenport?”
“Good one,” Charlie snickered. “I think he’s as real as they come, given the detailed website and such I found online. Maybe he’ll be my new sugar daddy.”
An ounce of jealousy threatened as Cane tossed Charlie a look of warning. She knew the drill — no men, dating, or even real friends beyond the walls of the hotel and casino where everyone had been thoroughly vetted and deemed safe by Cane himself. Until then, he was the only sugar daddy allowed in her circle, and he was light on the sugar compared to this Davenport guy coming in.
“Charlie—” he began.
“I know, I know,” she interrupted. “A girl can dream, though. Besides, money aside, I don’t think he’s my type. He’s some sort of techy computer genius. I can barely use a calculator, so he’s already out of the running.”
“Really?” Cane grinned. “What is your type then?”
Charlie’s gaze washed over Cane, head to toe. The fire in her eyes was enough answer Cane’s question, but in case there was any doubt, the slow stroke of her tongue across her top lip before biting down on her bottom lip told him the whole story. Then, she walked away with a sultry wink and a seductive sway to her hips that made Cane hum in places that were inappropriate in such a public setting.
He pushed through the door to his office and plopped in his chair, letting out a slow breath. When he didn’t see the report he’d been waiting for on Henry Davenport on his desk yet, he got lost in thought about Charlie. This was the part where his heart and mind warred. He couldn’t help how Charlie made him feel, and he hated that. Cane didn’t want to feel anything other than the need to keep her safe.
She was a client. Just a job. But when she made comments like she had about her well off client coming in, even if they were in jest, or men looked at her the way he looked at her, Cane wanted to tuck her away and keep her to himself. To protect her from everyone and everything — especially the one he was hiding her from, Anson Deveraux. The serial killer had been leaving what seemed like an intentional trail of bodies for Brother’s Keeper Security to follow for some time, but it recently stopped. The trail went cold, and hiding in Vegas — hiding in plain sight, surrounded by some of the most advanced technology that would serve as warning bells should Deveraux show up — didn’t seem safe enough anymore. There wasn’t a place on earth that would feel safe so long as that man was out there hunting. The hot trail was now a wild goose chase of endless false leads. They were being played.
Cane couldn’t justify the feelings that festered where Charlie was concerned, or even explain them. Much like the feeling he had stirring right now. The one that rolled in his gut and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention when he heard the name Henry Davenport. This felt like the calm before the storm, and all Cane could do was wait for it.
CHAPTER 3
“Okay…then,” Kandi said, trying to look anywhere but at the Windsors, who were firmly pressed against the wall so wrapped together, they didn’t seem to notice she was still there. “If everything is to your…liking…I’ll be going now. If you need…any…thing,” Kandi’s eyes rolled as her cheeks tinted with embarrassment, “just call us…at the VIP desk. And…you’re not even listening, so I’m just going to go now.”
Kandi rushed to the door, and didn’t let it hit her on the ass n her way out. The couple relaxed against the wall and broke into laugher.
“Jesus, Eddie, you almost got us caught,” Elizabeth said, only…her name was really Skye. “The Windsors?”
Eddie, who was known as Phillip only moments before, snorted. “Right? Who would have thought the muscle head would be so…”
“Smart?” Skye interrupted.
“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. “Dude, hit the gym. We have stuff to do, and you’re standing between us and our money. I mean, most people don’t know who the President of the United States is, much less the British monarchy. Besides, it sounds pompous and regal, and that usually screams money — it’s a distraction. That dude really threw me, though.”
Skye giggled as Eddie’s hands began to roam earnestly, earning a seductive moan as he found her breast and dropped his mouth to it, biting at her pebbled peak through the thin cotton barrier.
“Our…money,” she panted. “I love the sound of that.”
“I like the sound of you moaning my name,” Eddie said, sliding his hand up Skye’s skirt. “No panties. This for me?”
Skye’s head slid back against the wall as she tilted her hips greedily, trying to ride Eddie’s palm as he teased her with pleasure. “Al-ways,” she cried.
Eddie pulled away only long enough to undo his buckle and free himself before wrapping Skye around his waist and driving into her in one swift movement. He held her there, buried deep inside her, earning a long sigh of pleasure before he began to move against her. He dipped his head to taste her breast and drive her mad. It was wild, it was hot, and it was dirty — just how they liked it.
Skye’s cries grew louder as satisfaction washed over her, driving her over the edge of ecstasy. Eddie followed and held her there, against the wall, allowing her time to catch her breath as the final waves flowed through her.
“So…this is a pretty nice place,” Skye said, looking over Eddie’s shoulder at the room they were given. “Best yet. You’re really getting the hang of this, baby.”
“All for you, baby,” he said, stealing one last kiss before placing her firmly on the ground. “Next stop, penthouse.”
“I thought this was the last hotel on the strip before we bailed?” Skye asked, pulling her skirt down and primping her hair. “You said this was the big one.”
Eddie left his pants open, completely unashamed as he walked to the window overlooking the Las Vegas strip. “This view…at night? Fucking beautiful.” He looked back at her over his shoulder. “I think you’ll look amazing with your back against it tonight.”
“The window?” She giggled on her way to the couch. “You want to do it against the window? Won’t we get caught and, like, kicked out of here?”
“With the kind of money we’re going to be dropping in here tonight, not at all.” Eddie was confident. He knew how this worked. “Worst case, we get a knock at the door, interrupting us. They’ll find some excuse, ask if we need anything or something. We’re in a high roller suite, baby. It’s hard to get kicked out of a place like this.”
Skye reached for Eddie as he made his way to her and pulled him down next to her. “How did you get so smart?” she asked, taking his mouth. “You weren’t kidding when you said we were going to live it up here and leave loaded.”
“The money we made this week at the tables—”
“And the extra wallets and jewels,” Skye interrupted.
“And those too,” he agreed. “We’re set for the year, maybe a little longer.”
“We’re so close, Eddie.” Concern filled Skye’s words. “Don’t get carried away like you did downstairs. We’re almost to the finish line. We can’t lose it all now, baby.”
“Ahhh,” he said. “I got this. I underestimated him, but better to find out early he’s the eyes around here. We got this. I’ve gotten really good at counting those cards and lose just enough
to throw them off.”
Eddie pulled Skye into his lap. “We’re going to leave here with enough money to last a year or more, if we play our cards right.”
“Play our cards right? Nice.” Skye always laughed at Eddie’s bad jokes and ridiculous puns. It was all part of his charm, and that charm was what kept them afloat from town to town, one con to the next.
Eddie held up a keycard he pulled from his back pocket. “This will get us in everywhere.”
“The key to the universe,” Skye said, full of dramatics. “Are you sure it will still work today? What if they cancelled it, or whatever they do when the maids lose their room cards?”
“My guess is she didn’t tell anyone. She could lose her job,” Eddie said. “What’s she going to say, I was flirting with this guy and then the card went missing? They work in teams on every floor. Her friend seemed just as interested as she was. I bet she does her a solid for a while until they come up with a good story about it falling through a vent or something.”
“So, we’re really doing this?” Skye clapped her hands. “Hitting the penthouse?”
“You heard them down there. Some dude named Davenport is coming in today. I heard the name yesterday when we were staking out the VIP in the lobby. He’s worth big money, and guys like that bring cash. Briefcases full. This is going to be our biggest job to date. No more picking pockets or swiping jewels off the unknowing. We are better than that now.”
Skye chuckled. “I love it when you talk dirty to me, but it’s still stealing, Eddie. Have you ever thought about settling down somewhere? Get real jobs, a white picket fence, maybe a dog or two?”
“This is a job, baby. We work harder than most people, or we’d be caught by now.” Eddie held her head in his hands. “This is the way to the dogs and white fence. In fact, I think I’ll marry you again while we’re here. There’s a chapel in the hotel. I never made you Mrs. Phillip Windsor officially. What do ya say?”
Blackout: A Romance Anthology Page 2
