by Mia Carson
He paced around his office and wondered if, over the course of the years of being a playboy, he was simply growing bored by the repetitive routine of his days. His heart didn’t pound in his chest as if trying to escape when he was in bed with a woman, and the excitement that used to be there when seeking a new partner for the night was gone, replaced by a sense of tediousness at having done it so many times.
He rested his forehead against the windows and slipped his hands into his tight leather pockets. “Time for a change, old boy,” he murmured to himself, watching the tourist-filled streets below his office.
So many people below, and all of them appeared to be happy, like he did. The last vacation he had taken was years ago. Maybe it was finally time for another one—get away from the boring routine of a city that never stopped moving to the beat of its own drum. If whatever Marcus had planned didn’t pull him out of his funk, he would disappear for a week—maybe even a month—and go somewhere cold.
“Sir? They’re ready for you in the conference room,” Betty, his assistant, told him over the speaker from his desk phone.
Sam walked over and held down the intercom button. “Thanks, be right there.”
“And Marcus said I was to remind you to smile or he’ll do something to make you smile, but you won’t like it.”
Picking up his black leather jacket off the back of his chair, he slipped it over his black button-up shirt—untucked—and stomped out the door. “You can tell Marcus to stop with the damn threats,” Sam told Betty as he passed. “They stopped working a long time ago.”
“He just wants you to look like you’re in a good mood for the sake of the board,” she murmured, trailing after him with several stacks of papers in one hand while she texted with the other.
“Are you saying I don’t look like I’m in a good mood?”
She slid her gaze to him and shrugged. “Not lately, no.”
“You are both losing it. I’m perfectly happy and at peace,” he lied, and Betty laughed sharply. “Fine, I’m not happy.”
“No, you’re not, though I’m not sure why. Business is better than it has been in five years,” she reminded him as she continued to text on her cell. They walked through the building towards the conference room. “I’m assuming it has something to do with your personal life rather than the business.”
“You know me oh so well,” he grumbled.
Betty finally tucked her cell away. “It’s what happens when you work for someone from day one of their company,” she explained smartly. “Just wear that charming grin of yours for a few hours and then you can check out early and watch your damn fish the rest of the day.”
“I won’t leave early, you know that.” He squared his shoulders and plastered a fake smile on his face. “How’s that?”
“Terrifying,” she said, stifling a laugh. “Forget the smile. Let’s get this over with.”
Sam glowered at her as she continued to try and smother her laughter. He pushed open the door and strolled inside. “Gentlemen, ladies, shall we go over the numbers?”
***
As evening settled in over the city, Sam unlocked the door to his high-rise penthouse and dropped the keys in the bowl by the door. “Honey, I’m home,” he called out. His voice echoed back to him and he gritted his teeth. “There’s never going to be an answer to those words.”
He stomped around his high-ceilinged home, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and popped the cap off. Once he’d swallowed half of it, he meandered through his quiet home towards the large aquarium set on the far wall of his living room. The tank was saltwater, nearly eight hundred gallons, and stood as tall as Sam was at six feet, two inches. It stuck out from the wall by nearly five feet with a curved front. He watched the array of vibrantly colored fish swimming around the coral and large rock structure built in the center. The eel poked its head out for a moment before ducking right back into its cave in the bottom right. Watching the fish move in their random patterns, darting back and forth, usually calmed Sam and reminded him of a time when he was happy, feeding his few fish with his mom by his side. Those rare moments of peace and happiness were all he cared to remember of his childhood—that, and the man who’d given him the aged deck of playing cards.
He sank into his nearby armchair and finished his beer as he watched the fish, needing clarity. The only man he could ever talk to was dead and buried going on five years now. His photo sat on the bookshelf across the room, and Sam lifted his empty beer bottle to the man.
“Here’s to you, Gramps,” he whispered. “I hope you’re happy at least.”
Anyone who met Sam assumed he’d had a rich childhood, filled with being spoiled by his rich parents and never wanting for anything. Hiding such dark secrets used to gnaw at him until he found he could lose himself in the arms of a beautiful woman for a night. Now that no longer worked, and his past crept up to haunt him again. Gripping the beer bottle tight, he pushed out of his armchair and stalked into the kitchen for another one. A night with Marcus, he feared, wouldn’t change anything about the dour mood he found himself in lately.
Nothing made him happy. Not his job, not the bright lights of the city, nothing at all. The last woman had stayed with him for nearly a week before he admitted he felt nothing with her and wasn’t even sure why he kept her around so long. His words earned him a slap, and he deserved it. Whatever twisted him up inside hid his old charm and brought out the bastard side of him. He worked so hard at controlling it and bitterly thanked the asshole who gave him those unwanted traits. For years, he struggled to maintain a hold on his temper and was successful, but the loneliness and old hatred were harder to tamp out. When he started his business, he threw himself into his work and managed to keep himself so exhausted he had no energy to dwell on the past.
“That’s it, time to start another business,” he mumbled into his beer.
A while back, Marcus had suggested Sam sign up for one of those internet dating websites, but he flat-out refused. Dating was not what he did, or at least, it wasn’t what he wanted to do then. He walked towards his computer and turned it on, browsing a few of the websites. His mouse hovered over the ‘Create a Profile’ button before he cursed loudly and stomped to his bedroom.
“Vacation, then new business venture,” he told himself as he stripped out of his clothes and dove naked into his empty bed. “If that doesn’t work, then you’ll have to admit you’re a broken man. Bored and broken.”
As he drifted off to sleep, he sensed a woman by his side, her warm body pressed along the curves of his, fitting perfectly as if she had always belonged there. He grinned in his sleep, running his hands through silky strands of hair and kissing a soft shoulder as she sighed and whispered his name.
Too bad it was only a dream.
Chapter 2
Her feet screaming in pain, Harley staggered upstairs to her top-floor, shitty apartment and fumbled with her keys. She’d worked a double at the casino as a cocktail waitress and tried to let her annoyance go at the old men who’d tried to cop a feel throughout the day. The tips were great, the pockets of her apron stuffed full, but the pain in her feet and throbbing headache behind her eyes made her question if it was worth it. In a few hours, she would have to get up and do it all over again.
“There you are,” her friend Karen said as Harley slipped inside and closed the door firmly behind her. “You look wonderful. Want some breakfast?”
“It’s three in the morning,” Harley grunted as she dropped her purse on the floor and kicked off her heels. “I want a bath and my bed. Oh, and while I’m at it, a foot massage, a better job, and a nicer place to live.”
Karen leaned back in her chair. “I’ll get right on that.”
“Why are you still up?” Harley sank into the opposite, scratched-up, wooden kitchen chair and rested her head on her arms.
“Not still up, just getting up. I’m working the early rounds at the diner before I meet you at the casino.”
“You know, I’ve decided so
mething,” Harley announced before she opened her mouth wide in a yawn that seemed never ending. “You and I need a vacation, an escape from this shit. What do you say? I was thinking Paris.”
“Oh, or maybe Venice,” Karen chimed in with a laugh. “If only, girlie.”
“If only.” Harley drew out the wad of cash from her apron and counted it. “Not too bad a night, I guess.”
“You going to stash half of it for your vacation?” Karen teased.
Harley’s brow wrinkled. “You know, I think I might. I’ve got a small chunk in savings for emergencies. Why not take a vacation?”
“I was joking.”
“Yeah, but why? We’ve worked our asses off since we got out of high school.” A newfound energy lifted her from her chair, and she dug around in their cabinets for a jar. She dumped out its contents, some packets of ice tea in it, and slipped all her ones into the jar. “There, vacation fund started.”
Karen walked to her purse on the counter, drew out a wad of ones, and dumped them in too. “I love your optimism. I’m not sure how you always manage it.”
“It’s a gift. Now, I’m going to bed. See you around lunch time?’
“Yeah, I’ll be there around noon. You pulling a double tomorrow?”
Harley grimaced. “This whole week, actually. They offered me the hours. I’m not about to turn them down.”
She waved to her friend, picked up her heels and purse, and slouched off to the tiny bedroom barely big enough for a dresser and twin bed. She stripped out of her clothes to her panties and tumbled into bed, deciding the bath would have to wait until a night when she wouldn’t pass out in the tub. Her head hit the pillow and she was nearly asleep when her cell rang shrilly beside her. She planted her pillow over her head to try and drown it out, but it kept ringing and ringing. When it finally stopped, Harley relaxed and settled back in to sleep, but it rang again. Groaning and cursing whomever was calling her this late—or early—she snaked her hand out to find it.
“Brianna,” she whispered her little sister’s name. “What?” she snapped when she answered.
“Harley? Please don’t hang up on me!”
“I’m not sure why I shouldn’t. It’s been a long day and I’m tired. I’m going to bed now.”
“No! Please don’t. I’m in trouble,” her sister cried. “Please.”
Harley chucked her pillow across the room as she sat up. “You’re always in trouble. That’s what happens when you hang out with those bastards. I’m not bailing you out again. If you need to crash here, fine. You have a key.”
“Harley, I’m in real trouble this time, and not with the cops. With Ricky.”
“That asshole you’re dating?”
“Yeah, him.” She sniffed hard, and Harley’s chest tightened. She was used to these calls from her kid sister who’d hung around with the wrong crowd since she was sixteen. For four years, it had been a constant back and forth trying to get her onto a better path, but Brianna always wound up back with them. Harley knew there were drugs involved, and maybe even worse, but she never asked for more details and Brianna never gave them. “Please, I can’t talk long, but it’s not good.”
“Just leave,” Harley said firmly as she clambered to her feet. “Walk out right now. I’ll come pick you up.”
“He’ll just come after me again. I owe him money—a lot of money. I screwed up big time, Harley, and he won’t let me go…won’t leave me alone… I fucked up. God, I fucked up. I’m so sorry!”
“Brianna! Where are you? I’m coming to get you right now.”
“No, I just…I don’t know why I called. Never mind—forget it, all right?”
Harley snatched a pair of jeans and t-shirt off her floor. “Don’t you dare hang up! Where are you?”
“At his club,” she whispered. “Harley, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Just text me the address. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
She hung up, finished dressing, and grabbing her purse, darted out of the apartment. Her shitty old truck sat parked alongside the curb, and she clambered into it as soon as Brianna texted her the address of Ricky Delugio’s underground club, Seven Deadly.
Harley had steered clear of there until now. Her sister did what she wanted, and Harley wouldn’t get dragged down into that world of drugs and booze and whatever else he had his hands in. The man was bad news. Half his businesses were illegal, but he still managed to keep the doors to his club open.
Harley floored it through the busy streets into the heart of the Vegas strip. Her fingers tapped against the steering wheel as she waited for pedestrians to move out of her way. When she neared the club, she parked in the first open spot on the curb and ran to stairs that led down to the main club. The underground part was where other things happened, things Harley had only heard rumors about. She searched the shadows for her sister, but she wasn’t outside the club.
“Damn it.” She drew out her phone and called Brianna, but it wasn’t her sister’s voice that answered. Her blood ran cold at the man laughing on the other end.
“Hello, big sister.” She knew without hesitation the man was Ricky. “If you’d be so kind as to follow my man inside? I’ll buy you a drink. We have much to discuss.”
“And if I refuse?” she muttered as a large man twice her side appeared out of a side door and leered at her. “If I don’t join you for a drink?”
“Then you can say bye to your sister. You’ll never see her again.”
“Wait! All right,” she yelled and ran towards the leering man. “I’m on my way.”
The man opened the door and Harley’s stomach twisted as she followed him inside. The door slammed shut behind her. She had no choice except to follow the man, find her sister, and get the fuck out of there before the situation worsened. She considered calling the cops, but a mocking voice in the back of her mind told her the cops would never reach them in time. She and Brianna would be dead and buried if she tried that, and no one cared about either of them. They had no family, and Karen was Harley’s only friend. Her work would assume she had quit. No one would miss the Smith sisters.
Harley feared Ricky, unlike her sister, and wished Brianna had stayed away from the bastard. There were other rumors about Ricky floating around the strip, and now was not the time to test if they were true.
The hallway ended at a large lounge with a bar in the center, but the only occupants were four other men shaped like the one who was sent to fetch her and a taller, leaner man with dark hair, beard, and mustache. Beside him, parked on a stool, her shoulders hunched and makeup smeared from crying, was Brianna.
“Bri!” She hurried toward her sister, but one of the hulking men yanked her back by her arm and held her by his side. She punched and hit him, but the man beside her sister grabbed a handful of her hair and tugged it hard, making her cry out. “Let her go!”
“Stop fighting,” the man drawled. “Let’s talk about this calmly and no one will get hurt.”
Brianna whimpered as he tugged again, tears leaking out of her eyes. Harley stilled and held out her hands. “There. I’m not fighting, now let her go.”
“Certainly.” The man released his grip, but Brianna stayed on her stool. Her watery grey eyes searched for Harley, and she whispered through her blubbering, but Harley couldn’t understand her. “Here, wipe your face. You look awful.”
Brianna took the handkerchief the man offered her and scrubbed at her face with a shaky hand.
“Whatever you’re doing in this club, I don’t care,” Harley said, struggling to steady her voice. “She’s finished with you, clearly, so let me take her and you’ll never see us again.”
“How about introductions before we get down to business?” He picked up two glasses and a bottle of whiskey from the bar. “Shall we?” He nodded towards a table in the corner, and Harley followed slowly, eyeing her sister closely and doing her best to comfort her without words or a warm hug. “Now then, a drink for you and a drink for me.”
Harley sli
d stiffly into the booth and accepted the glass he offered. She shot it back and coughed as the harsh liquor burned a path down to her stomach, doing very little to soothe her nerves.
“My kind of woman,” he observed and shot back his glass as well. “Ricky Delugio is at your service.”
“I know who you are, thanks. I know all about you.”
“Ah, yes, I’m sure you do. You are Harley Smith, twenty-four, older and only sibling of my dear, sweet Brianna. Such a pity you didn’t take me up on any of my offers in the past. You would’ve done well for me.”
Harley had ignored Brianna every time her sister brought her another offer from Ricky to join his ‘enterprises,’ as he called them. Part of her wished she had said yes, if only to keep a better eye on her sister. “And how do you figure that?” she asked.
“That drive in your eyes, the strength I see in your face…yes, you would’ve done very well, but alas, you have chosen a different path.”
“Just let me take my sister, please,” she begged. “She’s all I have left.”
“I do not keep people against their will.” Ricky poured more whiskey into both their glasses. “I do not, however, let anyone run away from me when a debt is owed.”
“What debt?”
Ricky savored his second glass of whiskey. “The debt your sister owes me.”
Harley glanced at Brianna, and she hung her head. “You loaned her money?”
“Oh no, it’s much worse than that, I’m afraid. There’s the issue of a messed-up shipment she was meant to procure, but it appears it has been lost—or so she says. And that is only one of my problems. The second is much worse and much more costly. You see, I have several important investors in the city, and I’m always on the lookout for new ones. Your sister was meant to entertain such a gentleman for the evening, but things did not go as planned.”
