Gambler’s Longshot
Devil’s Knights Series
Book 5
Winter Travers
Copyright © 2015 Winter Travers
ISBN-13: 978-1523375097
ISBN-10: 1523375094
Gambler’s Longshot
Editor: Brandi Beers
Cover Designer: Winter Travers
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduction, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) utilization of this work without written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
For questions or comments about this book, please contact the author at [email protected]
Cover Photos
Sula Strada © avanzimg
Passionate couple kissing © bezik
Devil’s Knights Series
Loving Lo
Finding Cyn
Gravel’s Road
Battling Troy
Gambler’s Longshot
Keeping Meg (Coming Soon)
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Coming Soon
About the Author
Dedication
For everyone who’s taken a chance on a longshot and won.
Acknowledgments
My Boys. Thank you for being so understanding of my crazy ways. I love you both more than you know.
My Family. Thank you for all the support and love.
My Lester. Once a stranger, now my best friend. Thank you for being my ride or die and being a kick ass lady.
My Wicked Women. Ya’ll rock. Best Street Team I could ask for.
My Beers Ladies. Love you three to death.
Chapter 1
Gambler
“I swear, woman, you need to get your ass back in that house, now!”
“And I swear, man, I don’t know how many times I need to tell you, but you are not the god damn boss of me!”
That was it. I’d had enough. I had never met a woman more infuriating than Gwen. No matter what I told her, she threw it back at me, telling me to shove it up my ass.
“The damn cat will come back. There’s no fucking point in traipsing all around the woods looking for it. It’s two fucking o’clock in the morning.” I continued following Gwen, pushing branches and brush out of the way.
“It’s not just a cat, he’s Mr. Tuna,” she shot back at me. Like that made perfect sense. Don’t even get me started on the ridiculous name she had given the cat. Half the time she called it Mr.T. Ridiculous.
“For Christ sake, Gwen, stop!” I yelled, grabbing her arm and ducked as a branch she had been holding back swung back, hitting me in the face.
She whirled around and stumbled into my arms and grabbed onto my shoulders. “I can’t stop until I find Mr. Tuna. There is nothing you can say that will make me stop looking for him.” She looked up at me, her eyes huge and doe-eyed. “That cat is all I have,” she whispered, a lone tear sliding down her cheek. Gwen looked entirely different than when she is all dolled up at the salon. She still had the rock-a-billy look to her but softened. I was shocked when she had opened the door to me tonight. The tight white shorts that barely covered her ass and tight white tank top gave me a half chubby instantly.
Of course, as soon as she had opened her mouth and started bitching at me, my chubby friend deflated. Now with her soft, warm body pressed against me it had my chubby friend taking notice. Gwen was half a foot shorter than me, and I was always looking down into her doe eyes. Her eyes were something wet dreams were made of. She could convey so much with just her eyes.
Right now they were leaking tears and begging me to help her.
Son of a bitch, not tears. I could handle anything but tears. “He’ll come back, doll.”
“You don’t know that. He could be lost and wandering around hurt. We need to find him,” she pleaded.
“All right, we’ll look for the damn cat, but can we please go back to the house for five minutes and put warmer clothes on?”
“Fine, but only for a minute, that’s it.” She pulled out of my arms and headed back towards the house.
Her firm ass taunted me the whole way, wagging in my face. She still had the tight shorts and tank on and managed to slip a pair of sandals on her feet as she dashed out the door after her damn cat. My boots were haphazardly pulled on my feet, the laces whipping around. Thankfully I hadn’t gotten ready for bed yet and still had jeans and a tee on.
Just as we stepped onto the porch of her house, a motorcycle pulled into her driveway and killed the engine.
“Stay here,” I grunted. I knew the only reason for Hammer to be here was not a good one.
“You lose your phone or something?” Ham called.
I patted my pocket where I usually kept my phone and felt nothing. “Shit, I left it in the house. I didn’t have time to grab it.” Just as I was getting ready for bed, Gwen had screamed bloody murder, and I hightailed it down the hall to see what the hell was going on. My only thought was to get to her and see if she needed help.
“Shits going down. You and Gwen need to get to the clubhouse now.”
“What the hell do you mean?”
“Someone tried to fucking blow up Meg’s house tonight.”
“Holy shit,” I groaned, running my fingers through my hair. There was only one person who would try to blow up Meg’s house. The Assassins.
“Someone tried to hurt Meg?” Gwen called, panic in her voice.
“They tried, but they’re all ok. King wants everyone at the clubhouse. Lockdown.”
I nodded my head, knowing exactly what Ham meant. He cranked his bike back and headed back into town.
“We need to pack up and get to the clubhouse. Pack for at least a week, if not more,” I ordered, marching up the steps, standing one step below Gwen.
“What? Why the hell for? I don’t have anyone chasing after me. I can stay here. Plus, I’m not leaving until I find Mr. Tuna.” She propped her hands on her hips, pure attitude.
“This isn’t a fucking option, Gwen. Pack and we leave. The cat will be fine. It’s an animal; it can survive outside.”
“No way, no how. The only way I leave is if Mr. Tuna is with me.” She glared at me.
“For fucks sake, we find the cat and then we l
eave, deal?”
She held her hand out to me, and we shook on it. “Deal.”
“Get a can of cat food or tuna and let’s find the little shit,” I ordered. She ran into the house, the screen door slamming shut behind her.
I turned around, looking over her front yard and groaned. Of course, Gwen had to live out in the country. There wasn’t a neighbor in sight, and she was surrounded by cornfields on one side and woods on the other. This was going to take all night.
I listened, trying to hear the little shit. Gwen came banging out of the front door, and I held my hand up, telling her to stop. She covered her mouth with her hand and whispered, “Do you hear him?”
“Quiet,” I grunted. I heard the wind rushing around me, but I could also hear a soft meow. I kept listening, trying to figure out which way to go. I slowly walked around the back of the house, the meowing getting louder and louder.
Gwen was pressed to my back, one hand holding a can of tuna and the other gripping my arm. “I hear him,” she whispered.
I looked around, trying to figure out where the hell he was. Thankfully the little shit was bright white and was easy to see in the dark. He was sitting at the back door, meowing to be let in.
“Mr. Tuna!” Gwen shouted, running around me and up the short steps to the back door. “I thought we’d never find you,” she cooed, picking the cat up and cradled it to her chest. They both acted like they hadn’t seen each other in days when it had only been twenty minutes.
“You think we could continue this happy little reunion in the house while you pack a bag?”
“Don’t mind him, Mr. Tuna. He’s just a crab ass. He did help find you, though,” Gwen cooed, rubbing her forehead against the cat’s fur.
“We don’t have time for this, Gwen. We found the cat, now pack.”
“Dick,” Gwen hissed as she whizzed by me, her precious cat tucked in her arms.
I followed behind, wondering what the hell I had done to deserve the sick and twisted punishment of Gwen Lawson. Lord help me.
‘*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*
Chapter 2
Gwen
“What an ass,” I vented to Mr. T, who laid on my bed, sprawled out on the pillow licking his paws.
I tossed my black crinoline skirt at the suitcase I had on the bed and walked back into my closet. Trying to pack when you had no idea how long you were going to be gone was hard. I needed to pack enough clothes for work and for whatever else we might do. Hopefully, Gambler would let me come back to my house to get more clothes if I needed them.
I grabbed three more skirts and four pairs of jeans and started folding everything to fit. I was going to need to bring two suitcases.
Mr. T pounced on my poofy skirt and rolled around, batting at it. I reached over, pulling him out of the tulle and cradled him to my chest. He meowed his protest of leaving the tulle cave and batted at my hand. “Don’t you be an ass, too, Mr. T,” I scolded, scratching him behind his ears. He purred, leaning into my hand, the tulle cave forgotten.
If only I could scratch Gambler behind his ear and do whatever I wanted. Right now, no matter what I said, he fought me tooth and nail about it. The same could be said about him, though. Ninety percent of the time I wanted to pop him in the nose and tell him to shove it where the sun doesn't shine.
I had never met a man that infuriated me so much. It had to do with the fact that the first time I had met him, he sauntered into my salon like he owned the place and told me what was going to happen and gave no room for argument. Ass.
“Doll, you about done? You’ve been packing for twenty minutes!” Gambler shouted through the door.
“I’ll take another twenty minutes if I damn well feel like,” I shouted back, flipping off the door. He couldn’t see me, but it was satisfying none the less. Mr. T jumped from my arms and laid back down on my pillow.
I shut the first suitcase, tossed it on the floor and pulled another one out from under my bed. Now came the hard decision, shoes. I didn’t want to leave any of my babies behind. I, Gwen Lawson, had a major shoe fetish. Heels were my utter weakness, but a cute pair of tennis shoes had been known to make me swoon a time or two.
“You got ten minutes, and we are leaving with or without all the shit you’re packing,” Gambler yelled. I heard him retreat down the hall, probably grabbing a beer from the fridge.
“Oh, hey!” I yelled, opening the door and peeked my head out. “Can you go down to the basement and grab Mr. T’s carrier? He gets a little anxious on car rides if he’s not in his carrier.”
Gambler stopped walking and shook his head. He kept his back turn to me and mumbled under his breath. All I made out of it was a six pack of beer and General Tso’s Chicken as he ran his fingers through his hair and headed in the direction of the basement.
I ducked back into my room, wondering if I should ever leave Mr.T with Gambler. I’d be afraid I’d come home to a homemade Chinese dinner and no more Mr.T.
“You are not eating my cat!” I yelled, opening the door and dashed down the hall to the basement door that was wide open. “Did you hear me?”
The light down in the basement was dim, and all I could see was Gambler’s shadow wandering around looking for Mr. T’s pet carrier. Just as I was about to tell him where to look for it, he walked over to the stairs, the carrier in hand.
“You done packing?” he gruffed, walking up the stairs.
“No, I still need to pick out shoes.” I backed up as he neared the top of the stairs and bumped against the door.
“Easy, doll.” Gambler grabbed my arm and steadied me. My eyes connected with his and I couldn’t look away. This wasn’t the first time this had happened to me. There was something about his deep, dark brown eyes that held me captive. I had never seen a brown so hypnotizing before.
“I should go pack my shoes,” I mumbled but didn’t move.
“Put some pants on too, doll. I don’t want you going to the clubhouse looking like that.”
“What?” I asked. Looking like what? I was in my freakin’ pajamas which were just shorts and a tank top. Nothing scandalous.
“Trust me when I say this, doll. You walk into that clubhouse looking like that, I’m going to have to protect you from more than the Assassins. Every man in there who doesn’t have an ol’ lady will be all over you like white on rice.”
“I’m in my pajamas and I don’t even have any makeup on. You’re crazy.”
Gambler moved closer, his face inches away from mine. “You think because you ain’t got makeup on that none of those guys will look at you?”
I nodded my head yes, unable to speak. Gambler’s eyes were even more captivating up close. I was speechless. Speechlessness and I did not go together. There was always something to be said. Except now.
“When those guys lay their eyes on your plump, lush ass and perfect tits hanging out of that tank top, they aren’t even going to make it to your face before they pin you against a wall and have their way with you.”
“But…what… how would you know?” I whispered.
“Because I’ve been fighting the urge since I walked through that door tonight. You’re lucky I’m a god damn gentleman. Otherwise, I’d have you bent over that kitchen table right now.” He dropped the pet carrier at our feet and cupped my chin in his hand. “I need to know what you taste like,” he growled.
“But you hate me,” I breathed out, his lips hovering over mine.
“You got a smart mouth, doll, and I’d like to bend you over my knee for it, but I sure as hell don’t hate you.”
“Oh,” I repeat. I was speechless.
His hand caressed my cheek, his other hand loosening his grip, not forcing me to stay, but I didn’t want to move.
He brushed his lips against mine and, as much as I’d like to deny it, I moaned as his hand delved into my hair, his lips assaulting me. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me to him, our bodies flush. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on.
I heard him growl low in his throat as he deepened the kiss, his tongue taking over my mouth, taking everything and making me want more. I was so into the kiss, I swear I could hear AC/DC playing “Highway to Hell.” Wait, “Highway to Hell” was not the song I would imagine when kissing Gambler.
I backed away, pulling my lips away from Gambler and shook my head. I didn’t hear it anymore and thought I must be going crazy.
“Get back here, doll,” he growled, grabbing me by the neck, his lips claiming mine again. Just as I was about to get lost in Gambler again, “Highway to Hell” started playing again. “Stop,” I said, pulling away. “Your phone is going off.”
“Ignore it.” He grabbed me by the waist, but I leaned back and pushed on his chest.
“No, that’s, at least, the second time it’s gone off. It might be important.”
Gambler stopped pulling me to him and his eyes cleared of the lust that had turned them almost black. He shook his head and let me go. I stumbled back into the kitchen, somehow missing the feel of Gambler’s arms wrapped around me. “Uh, sorry, doll. I shouldn’t have done that,” he mumbled, running his fingers through his jet black hair.
“Oh, ok,” I whispered. I reached up, my fingertips brushing against my lips. I agree it probably wasn’t the best time for Gambler to kiss me, but I definitely wouldn’t fight him if he did it again.
His phone started blaring again from the table and we both stared at it.
“Go finish packing, we leave in ten minutes,” he ordered, the first one snapping out of the daze our kiss had put us in.
I slowly walked back to my room, Gambler rumbling into his phone. I was almost to my room when he yelled, “Make sure you change. You’re not leaving this house looking like that.”
I halted in my tracks, and I felt my blood boiled. I stomped my foot and stormed into my room, slamming the door behind me. Childish yes, but dammit did Gambler piss me off.
One minute ago I was putty in his hands, and now I was ready to rip his dick off and feed it to Mr. T.
He wanted me to change? I’ll give him change.
Gambler's Longshot: Devil's Knights Series Page 1
