by Lauren Rowe
I grab my phone. “Where are the videos? I didn’t see a single one when I ran that background check on you.”
“Oh. Yeah. I don’t use my real name when I perform. All my music stuff is under the name Aiden Jameson. Jameson is my dad’s last name.”
“Oh, I love it.” I quickly run the search, and, lo and behold, Aiden Jameson is all over the damned place, mostly thanks to videos uploaded by audience members at his various gigs. I click on one video, and there’s Aiden playing an electric guitar with a band in what appears to be a small club.
“Is that Betty?” I ask, indicating Aiden’s guitar in the video.
“No. That’s my Strat. Betty’s a Tele. A Fender Telecaster. I only bring Betty out for special gigs. I’ll show you.” I give him my phone, and he navigates to a video. “That’s my baby.”
Onscreen, Aiden is playing an electric guitar in a band full of old guys. They’re on a small stage in a dimly lit club, and every man in the band, including Aiden, looks like he’s having the time of his life. “Those are all my grandfather’s best friends from back in the day,” Aiden says. “I went to Nashville for a bit after I first got out of prison. I visited Gramps’s grave and told him I was sorry for screwing up so badly. I promised him it’d never happen again. And then I wound up jamming with those guys at the club where Gramps used to jam every Thursday night. It was one of the best nights of my life.”
I watch the video for a long moment, and my heart swells…and then aches. The joy Aiden is feeling on that stage is palpable. It breaks my heart to think he might never get to experience that specific brand of joy again.
When the video ends, I set my phone back onto the piano, resolve washing over me. “That’s it. I’m going to hawk my ring, and we’re going to gamble with the proceeds and do our best to win twenty-five grand. We might not succeed—in fact, the odds are against us. But at least we’ll know we tried. No regrets.”
“No regrets?” Aiden says incredulously. He shakes his head. “Savvy, I’d have a mountain of regrets if you lost your most-prized possession because of me.”
“But what if we win?” I say. “Aiden, I can make sure we gamble smart. I’m a whiz with numbers. I could count cards in Blackjack or something.”
“Count cards?” He scoffs. “The dealer or floor manager would figure you out in a heartbeat and kick us the fuck out. Or they’d figure you out and change the rules. Mid-hand, if necessary. Successfully counting cards in a casino is a great plotline in a movie, but in real life, it rarely works. Casinos are really good at spotting it, baby.”
“I could read up on it,” I insist. “I’m much smarter than I look.”
His features melt with affection. “I know you’re smart, honey. But I’m telling you it wouldn’t work.”
I sigh. “Poker, then?”
“Have you ever played poker before?”
“Yes. A couple times.”
“In a casino with professional card players?”
My shoulders droop. “No. In college. In the dorm with friends. But I could read up on it and learn. I’m a quick learner. You’d be shocked how fast I pick stuff up.”
Aiden shakes his head. “Thanks for wanting to help me so badly, baby, but we don’t have time for you to read up and learn. And even if we did, poker isn’t only about the cards in your hand. It’s about reading people. Being able to bluff. You need street smarts, sweetheart. And, let’s face it, that’s not your strong suit.”
My stomach falls into my toes. Truer words were never spoken. “Okay, then. How about craps?”
Aiden takes my hand and looks at me ruefully. “Stop, Savvy. Please. Any game we pick, we’d have to win over and over again to grow our seed money all the way to twenty-five grand. And we both know the odds of that happening are miniscule. I got lucky once today, at exactly the right time. I’m not stupid enough to think I’d do it again and again and again.”
I hang my head. He’s right. I know he is. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to try every damned thing I can to help him.
“Savvy, that ring means the world to you,” Aiden says softly. “It was written all over your face when you told me about it.”
“I’m willing to risk it,” I say softly.
“Hey.”
I lift my face and look into his ocean-blue eyes.
“Tell me the truth,” he says. “What are our chances of turning three grand into twenty-five? Do the math.”
I chew the inside of my cheek and crunch the numbers in my head. “Eleven point five percent,” I finally say. “A little better than one chance in nine we’d hit our goal.”
“That’s about what I figured. And that’s assuming you could get three grand for the ring, right? For all we know, your valuation is optimistic.”
I press my lips together. He’s right, actually. I was definitely being optimistic when I said I could get three grand for the ring. I hang my head with resignation. “I just want to help you so much.”
“I know that. Thank you. But some things can’t be helped. Trust me, if anyone knows that life lesson, it’s me.” He touches my cheek and smiles. “Thank you, sweetheart. As my Gramps used to say, ‘you’re a peach.’ But some things just suck, and there’s nothing you can do about it. It’s okay. That’s life.”
Looking into his beautiful face, I have the sudden, overpowering urge to ask him what he’s decided about tomorrow. Has he decided he can live with two days of hell to get his beloved guitar back? But I’m too big a coward to ask him that question directly, so I skirt around the issue. “Were you able to do some thinking while paying piano?”
“Not really,” he says. “Hard to think when there’s a pretty girl looking at you like you’re Prince Charming.”
I blush.
“I think it’s the kind of thing I’ve got to not think about for a while for my mind to figure out what to do.”
I nod slowly, too overwhelmed to speak. He’s still considering reporting for duty as that woman’s boy toy tomorrow?
Aiden moves my hair behind my shoulder and sighs. “Honestly, I don’t want to think about all that stuff for a while. I almost stroked out during that craps game. I need a break.” He smiles ruefully. “All I want to do tonight is hang out with my beautiful chicken princess and forget everything. Now that I’ve got the money to save my dad, I want to forget the world and take you on a date. A real date. Let’s walk along the Strip. Check out the fountain. Do some people watching. Grab dinner.” He kisses the top of my hand. “And then I’ll take you back to our room and get you naked and fuck the living hell out of you and get to feel that crazy electricity one more blessed time before reality comes crashing in.”
Chapter Sixteen
Aiden
I kiss every inch of Savvy’s body, not knowing if I’ll get the chance to do it ever again. Every inch. Her milky thighs. The curve of her hips. Her belly button. Her rib cage. The delicate flesh between her legs. And I savor her. I suck on her breast and then take her hard nipple into my mouth. I swirl my tongue over the hard bud and nibble her until she’s moaning. I work my way to her neck and bite and suck until she’s swollen and red—marked as mine. At least for tonight. Mine.
I work my way back down Savvy’s body to her pussy again. This time to stay awhile. I slide my fingers inside her heat and lap at her swollen, hard clit with a voracious tongue. And there I stay, reveling in her. Consuming her. Owning her. When Savvy comes against my fingers and tongue, she grits out my name…and every fiber of me surges at the delicious sound. I turn her over on the bed and guide her to her hands and knees and plunge myself inside her from behind. Playtime is over. I want her to understand she’s mine now. That she’ll never get fucked so well again, as long as she lives.
I grab Savvy’s dark hair as I fuck her hard. With all my might, in fact. I want nothing more than to give this girl a fuck she’ll never forget. I yank firmly on Savvy’s hair, pulling her head back, lean over her back, and whisper into her ear, “Nobody will ever fuck you like this
again. No matter what happens, a little piece of you will always be mine.”
She makes a garbled sound and then spits out, “Yes.”
And that simple word turns me the fuck on. So I fuck her harder. And grope her breast with my free hand as I do it.
We’re growling like wild animals now.
She’s saying my name, over and over again, with each thrust of my body into hers.
And I’m saying hers.
My breathing is labored.
My entire body is trembling.
I’m dripping in sweat.
Teetering on the edge of pure ecstasy.
Savvy’s body stiffens. And then those incredible convulsions around my cock start. And then my balls are treated to a little trickle of warm wetness. And I’m gone. Coming so hard, I’m seeing stars. I grip her hair hard as I come. Moan her name. The pleasure is knocking the air out of my lungs. Frying my brain. Making me want to forget my problems and stay with her inside this little fuck-bubble forever.
We crumple onto the mattress, both of us gasping for air. And suddenly, just that fast, I remember the dark cloud hanging over me. Will those asshats stay true to their word and release my father unharmed when I bring them the fifty grand? Or will they take the money and kill us both on the spot?
I press myself into Savvy’s sweaty back and stroke her hair. “Savvy,” I whisper softly. But that’s all I can muster. Could I possibly turn my back on Betty tomorrow—on my grandfather’s legacy—to take a shot with a girl I only just met? And will I even get the chance to make that choice, or will I wind up dying an inglorious death tomorrow while trying to buy back my father’s life in a motel room in Henderson?
“Aiden,” Savvy whispers. She takes my hand and kisses it gently. “If this truly is it for us, I want you to know I’ll never forget you.”
Oh, my heart. Why couldn’t I have met this girl next week when this horrible situation was over? Sighing, I pull Savvy closer to me and clutch her tightly to me from behind. “Savvy, you’re a beautiful dream,” I say. And then, because I have too many anxious thoughts racing in my head, all at once, I close my eyes and will myself to drift off to sleep.
Chapter Seventeen
Savannah
Friday, 8:22 a.m.
I wake up to find Aiden dressed and showered and walking quietly toward the door of our room, his backpack slung over his shoulder, his body language tight. My heart lurches into my throat. Last night’s “date” was amazing from start to finish. It was electric. And now it seems Aiden is tiptoeing away, possibly for good, without bothering to say goodbye to me.
“Aiden,” I say, stopping him dead in his tracks.
He turns, his face flushed. “I didn’t want to wake you,” he says softly. He motions to a small table on the far side of the room. “I left a note.”
I glance over to where he’s indicating and, sure enough, there’s a small square of paper sitting on the table. “What time is it?” I ask, blood whooshing into my ears.
“Almost eight thirty.”
My stomach clenches. Did the birthday girl offer Aiden a bonus to show up for his “job” a few hours early? “Where are you going?” I ask, and then I hold my breath, bracing for his reply.
“To free my father,” he says. “The motel where they’re holding him is about twenty minutes away. I’ve got the fifty-grand right here.” He indicates his backpack.
“Is it safe for you to go alone? Aren’t the men holding your father dangerous?”
“I’ll be fine. They’ve got no beef with me. They just want their money.” But he doesn’t look so sure.
“How are you getting there?”
“There’s a line of taxis at the front of the hotel.”
“Take my car,” I say. I gesture toward my purse on a dresser. “The keys are in my purse.”
Aiden looks like he feels sick. “It’s okay. I don’t want to put you out.”
Holy hell. He’s planning to head straight to the birthday girl’s hotel after paying his father’s debt, isn’t he? I can feel it in my bones. Either that, or he’s leaving himself the option. “I insist,” I say, my eyes locked onto his. And I’m not just being nice. If Aiden takes my car, then he’ll have to come back to return my keys before heading back out, if, indeed that’s his plan. Which means, even if he’s currently settled on reporting for duty with Regina at noon, I’ll have the opportunity to try to convince him face to face not to do it. To try to persuade him to take a leap of faith. To believe we’ll get lucky on the casino floor simply because we’re meant to be. Yes, I realize the odds are low we’ll be able to win twenty-five grand gambling, but it’s not impossible. Maybe I’ll convince him that, even if we were unsuccessful in the casino, that would be okay because we just might turn into something he’d cherish even more than his beloved guitar. Plus, come on! Does Aiden really think getting his guitar back through screwing Regina, a woman he loathes, will make him feel good in the long run? I can’t imagine he’ll ever feel joy again while playing his guitar if he gets it back like that.
“I’ve really got to go,” he says, his voice strained.
“Take the car,” I reply, my dark eyes trained on his baby blues. “There’s no need for you to spend money on a cab, and I’m not going anywhere today. I’m just going to hang out at the hotel pool.”
Aiden looks like he’s waging a fierce tug of war inside his head. But after a moment, he nods and says, “Thanks.”
My heart leaps. I’ll definitely get to see him again! And when I do, God as my witness, I’m going to somehow convince him not to sell himself to Regina. But that’s a conversation for another time—for after his father is safe and sound. “My keys are in my purse,” I say evenly, gesturing.
“Thanks.” Aiden walks to my purse and retrieves my keys. And then he stoically strides to me, bends down, and kisses my forehead. “You’re an amazing girl, Savannah Valentine. Best girl I’ve ever met.”
Goose bumps erupt on my arms. Why did that feel like a final goodbye? “Have you decided what to do about Betty?” I blurt, even though I had absolutely no intention of saying it and forcing his hand.
“Honestly, I’m too wound up about my dad to think about that right now. Once I know my dad is out of danger, I’ll make a decision on that.” He looks at his watch. His face is pale. His features tight. “I better go. Thanks for letting me borrow the car. I really appreciate it.”
“Of course.”
He pivots to leave.
“Be careful,” I say, my heart clanging. “Stay safe.”
“Will do.” With that, he adjusts his backpack on his shoulder and marches out the door…and, quite possibly, out of my life for good.
When the door clicks behind Aiden, I leap out of bed and scramble to the note he left on the table. And when I see his words, my stomach drops into my toes.
Savvy,
* * *
I went to pay my dad’s debt. Last night was incredible. I’ll never forget it. You’re perfect, Savvy. Beautiful. Never let anyone make you doubt your awesomeness ever again.
* * *
Much love,
* * *
Aiden
Chapter Eighteen
Aiden
Friday, 9:08 a.m.
As I step into the motel room, my heart whacks forcefully against my sternum.
Dad is sitting on one of two saggy beds in the room. A guy in a green track suit is sitting on the other bed, aiming a handgun straight at Dad’s head. And a guy in a black leather jacket is sitting in a chair at a small table, smoking a cigarette.
“Aidy,” my father whispers. He looks rumpled and exhausted. He’s got a black eye. But he’s alive.
My Adam’s apple bobs. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You brought the money?” the guy seated at the table says.
I hold up a white envelope. “Fifty grand.”
The guy at the table motions for me to bring him the envelope and, somehow, I command my legs to walk acros
s the room.
I hand the guy the envelope, my traitorous hand visibly shaking.
“Take three steps back,” the guy says. “And don’t speak.”
I do as I’m told.
I watch the guy open the envelope, pull out the entire stack of bills stuffed inside, lay them onto the table next to him, and then slowly, ever so slowly, methodically, torturously begin counting the money.
As the guy counts the bills, I glance at my father. His eyes lock with mine and he winks at me. In reply, I shoot him a look that says, If we get out of this, I swear to God, I’m gonna beat your fucking ass.
My heartbeat crashing in my ears, I return to the guy at the table just in time to watch him count the last four bills.
“It’s all here,” he declares. He smiles at my father the way a shark smiles at a sea lion. “You’ve got a good son here, Nick. Lucky for you.” He takes a long drag of his cigarette and gestures to my father. “Come here.”
My dad rises from the bed and walks toward the guy, his jaw tight.
When Dad reaches him, the guy rises from his chair and stands mere inches from him like he’s going to kiss him. Or dance with him. Or maybe spit in his face. Slowly, he raises his palm and pats Dad on his cheek. “Next time, Antonio won’t be quite so forgiving. You understand me, Nick?”
Dad nods.
The guy gestures toward the door. “You can go.”
“It’s been fun.” Dad turns, grabs my arm with a fierce grip, and yanks me toward the door.
We take one step. Then two. Three. Each step feeling like it’s taking an eternity.
