by Evelyn Glass
“And this…hit…won’t affect the Reapers?”
“Only in a positive way, by eliminating The Scarred. We’re clear of this, and have been for years. We have no dealings with the Russians. It’s going to be okay, Shayna. Don’t worry.”
“Then why do you look nervous?”
“I’m not nervous.”
“Bullshit. I can see it on your face.”
“Okay, maybe a little. Until the Russians take care of things, The Scarred are going to be flailing around. They have threatened us, the Reapers, with a war.”
“Why? What good will that do them?”
“None what so ever that I can see. But as I said, they’re desperate. Maybe they think they can buy some time if they can show the Russians they have the revue stream from DR Security and Dirty Reaper Tattoos. I don’t know.”
“Should I be worried?”
He smiled. “No. You’re safe.”
“What about you?”
“Me, too. We’ll be watching each other’s backs until this is over. If we have to, we’ll lock down the compound. But enough about that. I have another, better, idea.”
“What?”
“Well, let’s see. I just won twenty-odd million dollars and my club’s archenemy is about to go under, and I don’t have to do anything except let it happen. I’m thinking I need to take the most beautiful woman in Las Vegas out and celebrate.”
She smiled. “And you’re not worried something will happen?”
He gave her another kiss. “What’s the point of having a security firm if you can’t use it?”
She giggled. “What, indeed?”
***
They had lunch, and though Beast assured her they were under constant observation by two brothers, he refused to point them out and try as she might, she couldn’t spot them. They walked along the strip, lost in the tourist throng, holding hands as they window shopped, talking anything that came to mind.
They were walking past Mirage Boutique, one of the many specialty stores catering to the high rollers that flocked to Vegas, when the mannequin in the window caught his eye. The featureless figure was wearing an emerald green dress, one thin strap draped carelessly from the left shoulder. It was like a hundred other displays they’d already walked past, but the mannequin’s red hair was almost the exact color of Shayna’s and he desperately wanted to see her in the dress.
“Come on,” he said, pulling her into the shop.
“What?” she asked as they stepped inside.
“May I help you?” the clerk asked, a pencil-thin, supermodel wannabe.
“She wants to try on the green dress in the window.”
“I do?” Shayna twittered.
“Yes, you do.”
“Of course. That’s from Kiki de Montparnesse, a lovely piece that will look stunning with her coloring, as you obviously noticed. You’re a size…ten?”
“Ten or twelve.”
The woman nodded. “I think we can tailor that to fit. Come with me please.”
Something about the woman’s tone annoyed him, but Shayna didn’t seem to notice. She appeared to be totally immune to slights and was comfortable in her own skin. That was one of the things he liked the most about her. She knew who she was and didn’t feel the need to justify herself to anyone. Besides, he didn’t know what the rail-thin clerk had to be haughty about. Dogs liked bones where men liked curves, and between the two women, the clerk wasn’t even in the same league as Shayna.
It took almost an hour before Shayna stepped out. The dress fit her to perfection and the green complemented her coloring beautifully. She’d traded her sneakers for a pair of pumps, and as she swayed out of the fitting room, she beamed.
It had taken some fiddling to get into the dress, but despite the clerk’s slightly snide attitude as she adjusted the fit of the dress, she knew it was stunning on her. She tugged the dress, smoothing it over her hips as she admired herself in the mirror. But the best part was seeing Conor’s reaction. The way he stared at her made her feel like the sexiest woman in Nevada.
“You like it?” she purred, placing her hands on her hips and cocking her knee in a cheesecake pose before slowly pirouetting.
The dress stopped just above her knee, showing off her ass to perfection as it hugged her legs, but with a slit on the side that played peek-a-boo with her thigh as she moved. Two thin straps supported the plunge between her breasts, their delicate appearance adding to the allure by hinting they could snap at any moment. Though not exposing as much breast as her hostess uniform, the dress made them that much more appealing by what they didn’t show.
“You look stunning! We’ll take it.”
The clerk smiled. She’d learned long ago not to judge people by what they wore, but she was looking forward to see their reaction to the price. The dress did look gorgeous on the woman, but they were likely too young to be able to afford such a sleek and beautiful dress.
“Of course. The dress is twelve hundred sixty dollars. If you want the shoes also, that’s another three hundred thirty. We can have it ready by Wednesday.”
“Sixteen hundred dollars?” Shayna squawked.
“What if I want the dress for dinner tonight?” Conor asked.
“I’m sorry, sir, that’s not possible. The earliest we can have it is tomorrow morning, but that will cost extra for the expedited tailoring.”
“Do it. Shoes, too.”
“Conor! No!”
Beast reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills and began to count out the money.
“Conor, please, no,” Shayna said softly. “No dress is worth that.”
“That one is,” he said as he counted. “How much for the tailoring?”
“Two fifty.”
He counted out three hundred more, tucked the remainder of his cash away, and counted the money again before handing it to the clerk. “I expect it to be ready by ten tomorrow morning.”
The clerk smiled, impressed despite herself. “It’ll be ready.”
“Why’d you do that?” Shayna asked as they stepped out of the boutique.
“Because I wanted to.”
“But so much money for a dress!”
He shrugged. “A couple of grand to be able to take a goddess to dinner is pretty cheap if you ask me.”
She smiled and looked down as her face burned. “Thank you, but if I’m going to wear that, you have to wear a suit.”
He chuckled. “Count on it.”
“Let me buy it for you?”
“You don’t have to do that.”
She looked up at him and smiled. “I know, but I want to. I recently came into some money. Conor, please allow me.”
He grinned at her. “Okay, if it will make you feel better.”
She smiled and leaned in close. “It will.”
They walked for distance, saying nothing, until she steered him into a haberdasher. If he can dress me, I can dress him. I haven’t seen him in a suit, and I want to, she thought as the man showed them jackets in various fabrics. She smiled as Conor shrugged into a jacket and the clerk checked the fit. Then, later, I want the pleasure of taking it off of him.
After forty-five minutes of trying on various coats and pants before she found the one she liked, a gray tweed number with hints of blue and black that looked as good with his jeans as it did with the navy blue slacks, crisp white shirt, and subtle chevron tie she selected to go with it. At the last moment she added a silk navy kerchief onto the pile before swiping her card. It wasn’t a suit, but as he had tried on different suits, she realized he looked better in a sport coat anyway. Beast’s clothes cost a quarter of what he spent on her, but he still looked like a million bucks. Only the pants needed tailoring, but he left everything behind so he could pick it all up the next day, along with her dress.
“Why do you always carry so much cash?” she asked as they strolled back to the DRS Tahoe they’d appropriated for the day. “I mean, I had to charge your suit, but you peeled off two grand like it
was nothing.”
“I don’t use a credit card. OId habit from when I didn’t want to leave a paper trail. I picked up some extra cash this morning because I was planning on taking you shopping.”
“So you buy everything with cash?”
He shrugged. “Not my house, of course, but yeah, pretty much everything else.”
“You have a house?”
He chuckled. “Where do you think I live, the clubhouse?”
Now she shrugged. “I never thought about it, I guess.”
He thought a moment. “Want to see it?”
“Sure. When?”
“Tonight.”
She smiled. “I would love to.”
He smiled and pulled out his phone. “Tony, you’re done for the day. Shayna and I are heading back to the clubhouse now, then I’m going home.” He paused a moment. “No, that’s okay. We’re going straight back. Thanks for watching my back today. Tell Rip I said thanks, too.”
***
They dropped the Tahoe at DR Security and picked up his bike. “Are we going to have an escort tonight?” she asked as she donned her helmet.
“Nope. Just you and me. Nobody knows where I live, and I want to keep it that way.”
“Nobody?”
He swung a leg over the bike and waited for her to mount up. “Only Hightower, and you when you get there. Can I trust you with the location of my secret lair?”
She felt a warmth spread through her, exceptionally pleased that he was telling her a secret that so few knew. “Mum’s the word. But why the big secret?” she asked as she settled behind him.
“It’s my getaway. It’s where I can be Conor and not Beast. When I’m home I can leave the club, DRS and Desert Reapers Tattoos behind.”
“So why are you telling me?”
He chuckled and decided to tell her the truth. “Beats the hell out of me,” he said a moment before the Harley rumbled to life.
***
They rode into the older part of Vegas, Beast weaving though Paradise Palms until he turned into the drive of a house set on the corner. It was typical of the houses in this part of town, built in the fifties of adobe, low to the ground with a flat roof and large windows. The house, though older, appeared to have been lovingly maintained. The landscaping was desert sparse with no grass, but appealing in its austerity, dotted with huge palm trees and hardy desert plants.
As the garage door rumbled up, he circled the bike in the drive, then kicked it backwards into the garage before switching it off. She dismounted, looking around the garage as she took off her helmet. The garage was pin neat, the Harley sharing space with a lowered black Ford pickup with a bold stripe down the side and the words Harley Davidson spelled along the top edge of the bed in sliver letters.
She parked her helmet on the seat of the bike and followed him into the house. Sun poured through a floor-to-ceiling glass wall in the living room, setting the house ablaze with light. The inside of the house was decorated in brilliant white. White walls, white ceiling, white marble counter tops, cabinets and appliances, along with a light grey tile floor that ran throughout the house.
“Welcome,” he said as he closed the door behind them.
“Wow,” she said as she looked around. The house looked like something out of Architectural Digest.
“Would you like a tour?”
“I would love one!”
“This is the kitchen, obviously. Through here is the living room.”
As they moved through the house, the austere beauty of the place struck her. Conor’s house was impeccably decorated, accent colors splashed here and there to break up whiteness and bring a touch of warmth and flair to the rooms. The furniture was sleek and modern with opulent fabrics and elegant curves, the deep rich colors working together to create a harmonious whole. As they entered his bedroom the first thing she noticed was the mirrored wall, then realized they were sliding doors to his closet and were perfectly positioned so they could watch themselves making love on the giant bed. They returned to the living room and he led her into the tiny backyard, stepping out onto the small, covered patio with a ceiling fan turning slowly to stir the air. Like the front yard, there was no grass, only desert plants, but it was beautifully landscaped and appealing to the eye. A high adobe wall surrounded the yard and the pool that dominated the area, making it cozy and private.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“I think your house belongs in a magazine. Did you decorate it yourself?”
He chuckled. “Hardly. It was my grandfather’s, then Dad’s, now mine. It was pretty much a wreck when Dad moved in because Granddad didn’t care about shit except the Reapers. The place still had good bones so Dad started the renovation and got most of the heavy lifting done before…before he was killed. I finished what he started and then hired a decorator and a landscape architect to come in and add the finishing touches.”
“It’s beautiful. I love it. I especially like this wall of glass overlooking the pool.”
“You should see it at night when I turn on the lights.”
“You swim?”
“I can swim, but I don’t. The only reason the pool is here is because it was already here. It was the last thing I had rebuilt before the landscaping crew came in.”
“I love to swim. I wish I had brought a swimsuit.”
He waved a hand casually at the wall. “Who’s going to see?”
She looked around again. It was such a beautiful home and she dug the nineteen-fifties vibe. She might have to buy a house in the area herself someday. “And nobody has been here except Hightower?”
“No. Not since I’ve owned it.”
“What about before? When your dad owned it?”
“Some, but they think I sold it. I had a hard time coming here after Dad died. I talked about selling it, but then couldn’t. There are still some good memories here. They may suspect, but they respect my privacy enough to not ask, and if they know I still own the place, they pretend they don’t.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. To her it sounded like an incredibly lonely existence. “What are we doing for dinner? Want me to cook?”
“I’d planned to cook for you.”
“You cook, too?” she asked, the surprise clear in her tone.
He snickered. “So you thought I lived at the clubhouse and ate fast-food all the time.”
She giggled. “You are just full of surprises. How about we do it together, then? Get it done twice as fast, then I can take a dip in your pool if you don’t mind.”
He opened the door and gestured her inside. “After you.”
He dug around in the fridge a moment before he popped up with chicken breasts that were about to go out of date. As he rubbed the meat with olive oil and spices, she whipped together a honey yogurt glaze using what she could find in his pantry, brushing the mixture over whole carrots before slipping them into the oven with the chicken. She often cooked for herself, to keep her expenses down, but this was the first time she’d cooked with anyone other than her mother and father, her own kitchen far too small to hold more than one body at a time. Besides, all her previous dates expected her to cook for them.
In less than an hour, the dishes were hitting the table and it smelled wonderful. They ate, laughing and giggling over the clerk’s snooty attitude and eventual surprise at the dress store and Stephan’s trip through the window.
“When are you moving back to Vegas, or have you already?” he asked.
“I brought everything I could fit in my car. I still have my furniture to get. I have a couple of weeks to deal with that. Dad said my car is totaled, so I need to do something about that, too. It’s been a busy week.”
“Rent a truck and I’ll ask for volunteers to help you move.”
“Conor, you don’t have to do that. I can pay someone.”
“Trust me, I think several of the guys would love to help you move to restore some of their masculinity after you kicked their ass at pool.”
; She twittered out a laugh. “That was just for fun. I don’t think less of them for it.”
“You obviously don’t realize how fragile the male ego is,” he said with a grin. “I’ll ask, and if nobody volunteers, then you can hire someone. But they’re good people. I think the problem will be too much help instead of not enough. Do you have a place picked out?”
“No, not yet. Like I said, it’s been a busy week.”
He nodded. “Next week, get that sorted, along with a car, then we can go from there.”
