Tough Guy: A Hero Club Novel

by Jamie K. Schmidt

  Tough Guy

  Jamie K Schmidt

  Tough Guy is a standalone story inspired by Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward’s Cocky Bastard. It's published as part of the Cocky Hero Club world, a series of original works, written by various authors, and inspired by Keeland and Ward's New York Times bestselling series.

  Tough Guy is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2020 by Jamie K. Schmidt and Cocky Hero Club, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the authors’ imaginations. Any resemblance to actual persons or things, living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Editor: Jane Haertel, Crazy Diamond Editorial

  Photo Credit: DesignRans

  Formatted by: Megan Ryder

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  My sister lives to ruin my life.

  That isn’t fair. It’s not her fault our dance instructor called me fat and awkward, and our parents funded Lisa’s training instead of mine because I had a better head for business.

  So when Lisa went off the rails after her injury, it naturally came to me to track her down. The trail starts at the Spearmint Rhino —an upscale gentlemen’s club five minutes off the Las Vegas strip, where a group of hot Aussie soccer players are having a bachelor party. Hello, Chance Bateman! My sister still wears his jersey as a nightgown. However, Lisa's trail goes cold at Dalton’s, which is owned by a world-famous bouncer, Miles Carvello—six feet four inches of muscle, tattoos, and swagger. Combined with his intense green-eyed gaze, Miles makes my insides sizzle. I’m just not sure if Miles Carvello is the reason she’s hiding out or not. Danger seems to surround him.

  How does a former Broadway hoofer wind up in Vegas as a stripper? I don’t know, and no one will talk to me because I’m an outsider. Miles thinks I’m too much of a prude to do what needs to be done.

  I need to find my sister. She’s in trouble. I can feel it. I keep running into the bachelor party as well as Miles around town while I'm out searching for her. And while all of them are a good time, they're not getting me any closer to finding Lisa. And I've got a terrible feeling that her time is running out.

  I don’t remember Jackie Mitchell’s sister. Just another stripper with baggage in a long line of them. But Jackie? Damn, she’s the real deal. I don’t want to get distracted. I need to shoot this club into the stratosphere. I owe it to my uncle’s memory not to let the gangsters win. But she oozes sensuality that reminds me that I should take time to enjoy the finer things in life—like her long, toned legs wrapped around my shoulders.

  However, the demons of my past are pushing into my future. If they’re going after my employees, as a way to get to me—they picked the wrong guy to mess with. And if they touch Jackie, all bets are off. I’ll put them in the ground—and to hell with the consequences.

  Tough Guy takes place a year before the events of Cocky Bastard and features a few appearances by our favorite Aussie soccer player, Chance Bateman, before he meets the love of his life, Aubrey.

  Contents

  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

  Epilogue – One year later

  Cocky Hero Club

  More Books by Jamie K. Schmidt

  Chapter One

  Jackie Mitchell

  My feet were killing me, and my cheeks hurt from grinning so hard. I aced the audition and got the part. Sure, it was only a minor part in the ensemble in an off-Broadway play, but my dream was finally going to come true. I was going to dance professionally. After four years of college and another four years of being the business manager of my much more talented sister, Lisa, I was free to pursue my dream at long last.

  When my phone rang and I saw it was my mother, I almost didn’t pick up the phone. She was going to harsh my groove something fierce. I was about to put the phone back into my purse when she called again. She was retired. She could do this all day. I, on the other hand, had to get back to the Zimmerman Agency and make up the time that I’d spent in the audition.

  “I can’t talk now,” I said, navigating the busy Manhattan streets with ease. “I’ve got to get back to work.” There was a bite in the air and it smelled like snow. Shivering, I zipped up my parka and tugged my knitted hat down over my ears.

  “You need to drop everything. Get on a plane to Vegas and find your sister.” My mother’s voice was shrill with hysteria. I rolled my eyes. Just a typical Monday.

  “No, I really don’t,” I said. “Lisa is an adult. She’s going through a rough patch, but she’ll be fine.”

  “She should be back here in New York auditioning.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her about the part I just got, but I decided I wanted to feel the glow of success for a few more days before my mother pissed all over it. I could hear the sneer in her voice now.

  If you’re not on Broadway, you might as well be doing community theater.

  “I haven’t spoken to her in a month and a half.” My mother ranted on, oblivious to the argument I was having with her in my head. “She sends a terse text every week. How do I even know it’s her?”

  “Was Lisa whining or feeling sorry for herself?” That slipped out before I could stop it. It would have been fair game, except in my sister’s last starring role—yes, on Broadway—she tore the hell out of her ACL and the doctors didn’t think she was ever going to dance professionally again.

  Since that had been her identity for her entire life, Lisa was taking it understandably hard. She had aced her physical therapy, but the moment she could walk again without crutches, she was on the plane to Vegas. I guess New York City had too many memories for her.

  “She tells me she’s fine and not to worry. And then I ask her if she went on any auditions this week and she doesn’t answer. I haven’t even gotten a text from her in two weeks. Nothing.”

  “Last I heard she was bartending at a strip”—I coughed to cover my slipup—“er, high-end club on the Strip.” Actually, it was a gentlemen’s club called the Spearmint Rhino about five miles from the Strip, but who’s counting?

  My mother would. She’d probably think that if it wasn’t on the Las Vegas Strip, Lisa might as well be mixing drinks in her apartment.

  “Have you heard
from her?”

  I squinted and scrolled through my messages. “No, not for over a month.”

  “You girls don’t keep in touch? Aren’t you supposed to be booking her for jobs?”

  The accusation in her tone stiffened my back. “Her contract is on hiatus with the Zimmerman Agency.” It was a long-term hiatus, considering my sister’s knee couldn’t take the strain of a show at this time. Maybe even never. I pushed down the pity. I knew what it was like to have your dream snatched from you. But no one ever coddled me or even thought twice about my feelings.

  I pinched my nose. I thought I had worked through all these feeling in therapy, but apparently not.

  “Jaqueline Aida Mitchell, you are your sister’s advocate. That’s what we’re paying you to be.”

  I wanted to hurl the phone into traffic. “Actually, I get fifteen percent of what she brings in, so if she doesn’t get paid neither do I.” And my mother knew that. She was trying to “motivate” me in that special way that she had. One that usually wound up with me doing something stupidly competitive to prove I was just as good a daughter as Lisa.

  “So why aren’t you out there hustling for her?”

  “Mom, she can’t dance.”

  There was a horrified silence, and I hoped she’d hung up on me, but my luck was never that good.

  “You shut your mouth,” she finally said. “You are not a doctor.”

  “I’m hanging up now,” I told her.

  “Wait,” she screeched.

  “Be nice,” I warned.

  “Your father and I are worried sick.” My mother lowered her voice. “He’s drinking again.”

  “Damn it,” I said, leaning against the light post as I waited for the orange walk sign to come on. She was really firing all the guilt arrows today.

  “It would mean the world to us—to him, if you could track your sister down and make sure she’s all right. These texts don’t even sound like her. What if she’s in trouble? I know in my gut something is wrong. It would ease our minds—your father’s mind—if you would go out there and see that she’s coping with the hiatus.”

  I hated that she pulled the Dad card out. Dad, when he was sober, was the parent who always had my back instead of Lisa’s. From looking the other way when I broke curfew to lending me a hundred bucks when things were tough, he was the parent I went to when I needed one.

  “I have a job.” I tried to keep the whine out of my voice. I was caving and I knew it. It made me so mad. Why do I let her do this to me every time Lisa flakes out? “I can’t just drop everything to look for Lisa. She obviously wants to be alone.”

  “Or she’s been kidnapped or is on drugs or is being taken advantage of.”

  “Did you call the police?” A wiggle of doubt crept in, despite my best efforts.

  “Of course, I did. They laughed at me. They said trying to find one dancer in Las Vegas even when there was a verifiable crime was next to impossible. Without a suspicion of one, they’re not even going to look.”

  “I’m sure there are more pressing matters for them.”

  “Nothing is more important than your sister.”

  And that was the story of my life. I was done trying to prove that I was just as important, wasn’t I? I wasn’t expecting that this time when I pulled off the impossible, my mother would smile at me proudly. I was twenty-six. Why did I still crave her approval? And yet, what if Lisa was in trouble and I ignored it? I’d never forgive myself.

  I rubbed my hand over my face and let the crowd push me forward across the busy street when the light turned. “You’re overreacting. You know that, right?”

  “What if I’m not?”

  I was going to lose the bit dancing part that I had worked so hard for. I was going to have to put my life on hold because of Lisa. Again. It was the story of my life and I was sick of it. I should tell my mother that I was the better dancer now, and I was going to work my way up to be a Broadway star. But I was afraid of her laughter and her derision. I had survived it once when I was thirteen and she yanked me out of dance class. We could only afford one set of lessons and Lisa was a prodigy who had been getting offers before she was ten.

  I was the smart one. Lisa was the talented one.

  Blinking back tears, I opened my mouth to tell my mother off. But I couldn’t do it. Lisa had sunk down into a dark place after the doctors told her she’d never dance again. Mom didn’t know about the pills Lisa took or how I’d held her hand after they pumped her stomach. Guilt nibbled at me.

  “Did you hear the nor’easter is going to dump a foot of snow on us this weekend?” a man walking next to me said into his Bluetooth.

  I recoiled. Ugh. It was bad enough that the wind was chapping my cheeks raw now. I wasn’t looking forward to trudging through ankle-deep slush and dirt for weeks.

  “Did you hang up on me?” My mother’s shrill voice knocked me out of my thoughts. “When are you leaving for Las Vegas?”

  A foot of snow. Or tooling around in the desert in Sin City. Suddenly, there was a little sugar to go with the bitter coffee my mom was pouring down my throat.

  Maybe I was approaching this the wrong way. Lisa was probably fine, but my mother wouldn’t leave either one of us alone until she knew for sure. The casting director really liked me. There would be another audition soon and I’d ace that too. I could have a mini vacation and find Lisa. It was a win-win situation.

  A little flutter of excitement started in my stomach. I loved Las Vegas. I’d had some good times on spring break there. A few memories made me blush and shake my head. I was lucky I wasn’t caught on a Girls Gone Wild video. That was how out of control I’d gotten in the clubs down there.

  Las Vegas was a hell of a temptation even when you weren’t a carefree coed. Lisa could very well be in over her head. Or she could be having the time of her life. There was something about the town that encouraged you to go crazy and do things you would never in your right mind do anywhere else. On my twenty-first birthday, I took a bouncer home and had a hot-and-heavy one-night stand that I still thought about. Vegas was a good time.

  I deserved another no-holds-barred week to make it up to myself for giving up the job to dance on stage in order to find my pain-in-the-ass sister. After all, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?

  “Lisa doesn’t have a lot of money in her escrow account,” I said. “And I can’t afford to pay for this out of pocket.”

  “How much is this going to cost me?” my mother said flatly.

  “We don’t have to do this, you know.”

  “Fine. Put it on your credit card and send me an expense report. What Lisa’s royalties and residuals won’t pay for, I’ll cover.”

  I pumped my fist. I was getting smarter at dealing with my mother. She had the time and discretionary funds to drop everything and get on a plane. I didn’t. I still needed to work to pay my bills and make rent. This adventure was going to cut in on my bottom line. “I’m going to need some spending cash,” I pushed.

  “I’ll wire you two thousand dollars and not a dime more. And I want every cent accounted for.”

  I blinked. That was twice what I was going to ask for. She was serious if she was dipping into her bank account. Despite having inherited a ton from her parents, my mother was a notorious tight wad.

  “Don’t you dare blow it in the casinos.”

  Rolling my eyes, I pictured myself throwing dice on a craps table. I didn’t even know how that worked. Did I want a seven? Did I want snake eyes? She should have warned me not to blow it all on spa treatments because that was more my style. So I would have cash, my expenses would be paid, and I’d be out of the snow. I should be overjoyed. Instead, I felt like I had taken a huge step backward in my career and life.

  “I’ll call you when I land,” I said, but there was a part of me already regretting my decision. I needed to stop letting my mother and sister dictate my life. And I would. Just not today.

  Chapter Two

  Miles Carvello

/>   I dodged a punch, grabbed the asshole’s wrist, and twisted his arm behind his back. “Not in my bar, motherfucker,” I told him and literally kicked his ass out of Dalton’s.

  My bouncers were the best money could buy on or off the Las Vegas strip—and we were very much off the Strip, which probably is why these drunken frat boys thought they could get away with this kind of shit in my club.

  “You need help, mate?” Chance Bateman said. He and some of his soccer buddies were sitting on barstools with their backs to the bar, itching to get into the fight. Chance and I went way back when I took a bottle in the head for him at an unruly club in Sidney. He was a great guy—bloke, as he said. It was a shame that he only played one game professionally before an injury sidelined his career for good.

  “We got this,” I said. “You boys keep drinking and watching the girls.” That was all I needed. Five half-crocked Aussies “helping” me.

  “What’s a bachelor party without a biffo?” Chance grinned and slid off his seat.

  Hell no. I looked over my shoulder and gave a sharp whistle. Kikki, Betty, and Nalia wound their way through the combatants toward the private lounge, their tassels shaking from all the right places.

  “I’ve got a better idea,” I said, tugging Chance back. “Why don’t you take the groom and the rest of the blokes over to the VIP lounge? Free champagne beer for as long as the fight out here lasts.”