Betting on Love

by Alexis Abbott

  And that’s why I’m pretty damn careful about showing my strengths.

  “He might not be alone at the house,” I say. “What do you want done about that?”

  “You’re sending a message,” Jerry says. “Do what you gotta do. Don’t make it a bloodbath if he’s got a party or some shit, but nobody’s gonna mourn a few dead broads he’s got lying around. One or two terrified witnesses is good, though, so don’t clean the place out if there’s someone to give the cops a story. Just make sure they don’t get a good look at you. I’m not covering your ass if you slip up and lead the cops here.”

  “Understood,” I say.

  “Now, listen, Dom,” he says, putting a hand on my shoulder and looking at me with deadly seriousness. “This is a hell of a lot more than just some fuck trying to rip us off. This is a slap to the face that money’s not gonna make up for. I don’t care if he waves the Hope fucking Diamond under your nose, his ass is dead, do we understand each other? Make this pig bleed. Pick him apart piece by piece, and when he squeals—because he will—you take that as a bonus. He’ll try to promise you all the pussy you could want and more money than you’d know what to do with, but he’d put a bullet in your back the second you turn it. Me, you know how much I’m paying you, and if you get this done, consider yourself a made man. We clear?”

  “Crystal.”

  “Good man,” he says, patting me on the shoulder and turning around to stalk back to his chair. “Now, go make me a happy man.”

  I leave the lounge and head through the casino, rolling my shoulders back and heading down to the garage to my black Aston Martin.

  When I told Jerry who was behind this whole deal, he got a hell of a lot more interested in it. The name Carl Owens made Jerry’s eyes practically turn red. Turns out, Carl has debts to Jerry—really, really big debts. So big that I’d be willing to bet he took out a loan from Jerry to get this wild gambling scheme going, and he’s been digging himself out of debt and compounding interest ever since. The debt has grown so big and gone on so long that Jerry isn’t willing to take money anymore.

  Jerry wants Carl’s blood. I’m going to be the smoking gun that makes that happen.

  Of course, that puts me at risk in a big way. If I’m the one pulling the trigger, then I know damn well Jerry won’t cover for me if the cops come after me. The only silver lining is that Jerry hates Carl so fucking much that he doesn’t give a shit about the girls. At least, he doesn’t seem to.

  I pull the car out of the garage and take off.

  I’m pissed at myself for how things have gone. This is a thicker web of murder than I was planning on getting tied up in, and I don’t like surprises. I especially don’t like that Hadley has been scarce recently.

  If today goes well, I have a simple plan.

  I kill her boss, I take her to dinner, we hash things out, I apologize for dashing out the other morning after spending the night together, and we see where things go from there. I never thought I’d be offering up a dead boss as an apology, but here I am, driving out to the desert to put a bullet in someone’s head.

  This is a first for me. I’ve broken dozens of kneecaps and interrogated endless gamblers who’ve tried to cheat us. Put me in a room with a man and give me a few minutes, and I’ll have him spilling every secret he has.

  But I’ve never killed.

  I don’t have any reservations about it. Carl Owens isn’t the kind of man who’s making the world a better place. He won’t be missed, and unless he makes a damn convincing case when he’s on his knees in front of my gun, I have a feeling he won’t be dripping with enough charisma to make me second-guess myself. Still, it’s a line to cross. I can tell Jerry has plans for me, and those plans involve a lot more bloodshed.

  I’m on the verge of crossing the line from enforcer to hitman.

  That would mean a lot more money, a lot more freedom, and a lot more respect in the mafia. Those are all good things, except for one problem.

  Hadley.

  I haven’t stopped thinking about her since I left her room. My body still remembers how she felt, the smell of her hair, the taste of her tongue. I’ve never felt this way about someone before, but fuck, she left one hell of an impression on me. It’s not just her beauty that attracts me. It’s her mind.

  She’s a genius, plain and simple. We both have the combo of mathematical minds and pure ambition that I never see in other people. She likes playing mind games with people, and I can tell that this gig she’s tied up in is the biggest rush she’s enjoyed in her life. She thrives on this shit. I would too. She has a spark that not even the other girls have.

  She’s special in a way I never expected to encounter.

  And that’s just one huge goddamn distraction to me.

  While I’m driving, I call up Marco and listen to ring after ring. Finally, a groggy voice answers the phone.

  “What?”

  “Marco? This is Dom, where are you?”

  “Dom? What the...ah, shit,” he groans, and I clench my jaw.

  “What’s the problem, Marco? Where the fuck are you? We have a handoff to make.”

  “I uh...got a little carried away at the clubs last night. I... might not be in Vegas right now.”

  “Fucking- where the fuck are you, Marco?”

  “Well, I never really got around to driving home from LA last night like I meant to.”

  I cut the call without saying another word to him. I swear to god, I could kill him with my own hands next time I see him.

  It doesn’t matter. I’ll take care of Carl with the knife I have strapped to my leg. I like having more control over the kill, anyway. I don’t plan on getting too fancy. He isn’t expecting me. That gives me the biggest advantage I could hope for. I’m going to get in and get out in under an hour, ideally.

  When I pull up to the manor, I’m not surprised by what I see. It isn’t exactly a palatial villa, but it’s a damn nice little hideaway for weeks he probably spends raking in money from the Vegas casinos. His main estate is probably somewhere else, maybe not even in the US, but a guy like Carl Owens must know the value of not staying in one place too long. This is how he built his tiny little empire.

  I can’t help but wonder what the sex workers in the city think about this address.

  Out here, there really isn’t any way to approach a place without being seen, so I rely on speed instead. I know I’m going to have to move fast. I bring my vehicle to a stop and I climb out of my car, rolling my shoulders back.

  I make my way around the back of the house in case he saw me pull up, and I get low against the wall, pulling out my knife. I check in a few windows as I move, and I see lights on inside, but no movement.

  This manor isn’t just a little hideaway for Carl. It was a gift from the mafia when he started borrowing money. The mob likes to do that kind of thing so they keep their investments close and keep an eye on them. The fact that Carl’s here proves that he doesn’t think we’re onto him. That’s ideal.

  Around the back are two sweeping staircases leading up to a balcony, which offers a gorgeous view of the inground pool. I can practically hear and smell the house parties that have been held here, probably with wealthy business associates lusting after the very women who are doing the leg work for this scheme of Carl’s.

  Up on that balcony is a sliding glass door that’s partially open. Someone has come through it recently.

  Holding the knife close, I make my way up the stairs to the balcony, ready for anything. If I have to throw the knife, then by god, I’ll do it. I’m not about to let this job slip out from under me.

  When I get to the glass doors, my neck hairs stand on end when I hear the sound of footsteps approaching. I quickly move up against the wall next to the door and press my body against it, breathing very slowly and silently, watching the opening. All it’ll take is for him to walk through those doors. When the footsteps are just around the corner, my muscles are poised to strike.

  And a moment later, I’m pa
ralyzed with surprise when Hadley strolls through the door.

  She’s hard to recognize in such a casual outfit—simple jeans, a t-shirt, glasses, and her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail that somehow all makes her look just as beautiful as when she’s dressed up elaborately. My eyes get drawn to her ass immediately as she walks by me without so much as noticing me, heading down the stairs to the pool.

  I don’t have a choice.

  I move up behind her, keeping low, and in the blink of an eye, just before she puts her foot on the first step, I come up behind her and clap a hand around her mouth. I don’t put the knife to her throat, though, even though the instinct is there.

  Immediately, she yelps and starts to struggle, until I growl into her ear.

  “Is he here?”

  She freezes, then relaxes when she realizes who I am, but only slightly. I see her hand ball into a fist.

  “Mm-mm,” she says, shaking her head no, and I don’t sense a lie. Immediately, I release her, and she staggers back to clutch the balcony railing, glaring at my cool smile.

  “Good,” I say, tossing the knife up and catching it again as my shoulders relax. “That would make this reunion a lot more awkward.”

  Hadley

  “You?” I spit in total surprise and just a twinge of annoyed disdain. “You. Of course you’re here. But why are you here? And don’t you dare touch me like that again.”

  Dominick raises an eyebrow as he stares at me, still toying absently with the knife in his hands. If he was anyone else, I would be worried about him cutting his hands or slicing off a thumb or whatever. But I know without even having to ask that Dom is the kind of guy who can absolutely play around with a knife and not injure himself. Even right now, in this tense, risky moment, all my mind can think about is whether he would be just as deft with that knife in bed.

  Come on, Hadley. Get it together, I scold myself.

  “I know why I’m here, but I don’t know why you’re here,” he replies coolly. “So it would appear we both have questions.”

  “I don’t have to answer to you. You lost those rights the other morning,” I hiss icily, folding my arms over my chest as I balance back against the balcony. I gaze unblinkingly at Dominick, not willing to cede him even an inch. He may have the size and weapon advantage over me, and I know damn well that if he decides he wants to take me out, he can do so easily. Very easily. Effortlessly. With relish. I have no doubt in my mind that Dom has done much worse for much little provocation.

  “No, that’s right. You don’t answer to me, but you’re not a free agent, either,” he says pointedly. “You have someone you do answer to.”

  “No. I work for myself. I follow my own passions. Nobody owns me,” I retort, defiantly raising my chin and squinting at him venomously.

  To my horror, Dominick does the one thing that I absolutely cannot abide.

  He looks at me with something akin to pity on his handsome face. I can feel my whole body tensing up, my heart fluttering. Rage bubbles up inside my chest and it’s all I can do to keep from shaking a fist in his face or cursing him out. I don’t take pity. Not from anyone. And especially not from a guy who played me like a one-night-stand.

  “Don’t look at me that way,” I protest. “You don’t know a damn thing about me, Dominick. You don’t know my life. You don’t know who I associate with. You don’t know me. Now, get out of here so we can keep it that way.”

  Dominick sighs exasperatedly, shaking his head. “You know I can’t leave here, Hadley,” he says, lowering his voice to that raspy, gravelly growl that sets my blood on fire. I feel my body stirring. Coming to life at the mere sound of his voice in my ears. I know if I just took a few steps closer, I would feel the power, the heat radiating off of his incredible body. I could smell his masculine scent, that musky pine smell that intoxicates me faster than a tequila shot.

  “Why not?” I ask, annoyed at how petulant my voice sounds. Like a stubborn little girl. What is it about this man that makes me wilt like this? He makes me feel vulnerable in ways I never even thought possible. I hate that he has so much hold over me. It’s not fair.

  “I’m not holding this knife for a whittling competition,” Dom replies slyly.

  “What’s your point, huh? Why are you here? This is… this is private property,” I reply, unable to think of any other way to retaliate.

  “Oh, and you’re the owner, are you? Hadley, it sure looks like we’re both trespassing here to me. Only one of us has a knife, and the other has nothing,” he points out. “Now, it’s time to talk. You need to tell me where Carl Owens is. If he’s not home, then where the hell did he go?”

  “Right, like I’d have any idea where that man goes when he disappears,” I shoot back bitterly. “It’s not like he gives me regular check-ins or anything. Carl Owens does whatever the hell he wants to do and he doesn’t tell a soul about it. Not even me.”

  “Does that hurt?” Dom asks quietly.

  I frown at him as though he’s lost his entire damn mind.

  “What? Does what hurt?” I snort.

  “Does it hurt that he watches you like a wolf stalking a doe through the woods? That you have to answer to his every beck and call? Tell me, Hadley: when your boss tells you to jump, do you ask him how high?” Dominick says.

  My mouth falls open as I gape at him. “You fucking jerk. Don’t you talk to me that way.”

  “So, do you let Carl talk to you like that?” he pushes me further.

  “This conversation is over. I don’t have to stand here and let you insult me to my face. I have—I have other things to do. Places to go. You and your knife can do whatever you want, you psycho. I’m leaving,” I insist. I turn on my heel to try and head down the stairs, thinking I’ll just take the back exit through the gate on the other side of the pool. But before I can take a full step, Dominick grabs my hand and pulls me back, making me twirl slightly as I face him, our bodies only mere inches apart. The knife hangs at his side, thank god, but I can still feel every thump of my frantic heart in my throat.

  “I can’t let you leave like this, Hadley,” he murmurs solemnly. “Your boss is a bad man. I know you have to know that by now. Owens fucked up. There comes a point when you lose so much money there’s no hope of winning it back. And even though he’s got you and the other girls running around frantic to earn him money, he’s not paying his own dues. I’m sure you understand how that doesn’t fly.”

  “With the mafia,” I fill in, looking up at him wide-eyed. “Is that why he’s gone AWOL?”

  Dominick nods slowly. “Yes. He owes money. A lot of money. And the interest he owes can’t be paid in cash, no matter how much you win for him.”

  “So he’s supposed to pay with... what? Blood?” I murmur breathlessly, the whole picture starting to come together in my head as Dom stares down at me, those brown eyes ablaze.

  “Your boss is a bad man,” he reiterates, “but mine is worse.”

  “And Carl owes your boss money. A lot of it,” I say.

  “Yes. Too much. That’s why I’m here,” he replies.

  “To kill him,” I whisper. “Holy shit.”

  “Exactly,” says Dom smoothly, without an ounce of affectation.

  “I can’t let you do that,” I tell him, furrowing my brow. “He’s a dick, for sure, and the way he treats us is criminal. But murder? You really think that’s what he deserves?”

  “What do you think he deserves?” he asks, quirking one thick, dark eyebrow.

  “I don’t know. But he probably deserves to go to jail, not just to be stabbed to death by a stranger in his own home,” I tell him, although the longer I try to go on defending my boss, the less I want to. He’s never done a damn thing for me that wasn’t actually for him. He runs us hard. He treats us like chattel. For all intents and purposes, I should hate the guy. I guess I do.

  “Come on, Hadley, it’s not that difficult,” Dom insists. “The rules are fast and hard in your world, and even more so in mine. Owens knew the r
isk when he started toying with the mafia. We don’t accept late payments.”

  “So, you’re mafia, too? I guess you are as much of a loser as the girls said you were,” I retort seethingly. He doesn’t seem offended, more like just slightly amused.

  “You told your friends about me?” he asks, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I apologize for not making a better first impression.”

  “You fucked the life out of me and took off in the morning,” I state matter-of-factly.

  “Well, duty called. Not that it’s an excuse, but it’s an explanation. Sorry for demanding my shirt back so rudely. It looked a hell of a lot better on you, but I couldn’t exactly report to my boss without a shirt on. That would be a more interesting world if I could, but no such luck,” Dom quipped, taking a step back from me.

  I chew my lip thoughtfully, my thoughts spinning out in wild circles.

  “What are you thinking right now?” he asks, peering at me warily.

  “I’m thinking that if you want to ever see me again and make up for the way you took off the other morning, you’re going to have to come clean. And I mean, about everything. No more secrets. No more hopping out of the shadows holding a knife,” I tell him, putting my hands on my hips.

  He smirks. “Sweetheart, I’ve already told you everything. It’s a simple story. I work security at the casino, but the casino is run by the mafia. I’m an enforcer. When they need a rule or a deal enforced, I am the one they call on to get it done.”

  “So, sleeping with me was just a ploy to get closer to my boss?” I suggest.

  Dom looks disgusted by the idea. “No. God, no. You and your colleagues are not my target. You’re the pawns. I need the king.”

  “I don’t take well to being called a pawn,” I mutter, glaring.

  A broad, mischievous smile spreads slowly across his face. “Well, would you rather be a queen?” Dominick insinuates, looking me up and down.

  I feel an unbelievable wave of tingly warmth pass over my body. But I have to hold my ground. I can’t let my feelings for him get in the way. This man is here to murder my boss. Come on, Hadley, get it together!