by Blake Wilder
“Are you sure?”
“Completely.”
He leaned in to kiss me, but I stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Hang on. Out here.”
I pulled him into the hallway outside of Maxwell’s room. I backed up against the wall and then pulled Dec in. “Now,” I whispered, as I heard footsteps on the stairs.
Dec immediately moved in, covering my mouth with his. His hand slid up under my shirt, cupping my breast and teasing my nipple. Which was wonderful. It also kept it from being obvious how the shirt fit me. Or didn’t fit me as the case may be.
“Well, well, what have we here?”
Warren Maxwell had just stepped into the hallway and seen us. I tensed but fought the urge to look at him around Dec’s shoulder.
Dec looked over at him. “Oops.” He gave Maxwell a grin as the man came closer. I kept my head down even though I was almost fully blocked by Dec’s body. “Sorry, sir. I, um…she’s part of your maid service. She was bending over dusting something and I couldn’t resist.”
It said a lot about what kind of person Warren Maxwell was when he simply laughed and said, “I know what you mean.” As if it was perfectly fine for a man to grab and kiss a woman he didn’t know simply because she’d bent over in front of him.
Dec must have felt how my body tensed, as if wanting to go after Maxwell, because he squeezed me.
Right. We were just covering here. It wasn’t what had actually happened. Of course Warren Maxwell was a scum of a human being. That was hardly a shock.
I really hoped that Dec and his FBI buddies would find something to lock Maxwell up for tonight as well.
“Carry on, then,” Maxwell said, with a knowing tone in his voice. “Just be sure you’re done in time to finish the security sweep and for her to finish scrubbing the toilets.”
Oh sure, it was fine for this guy to just fuck one of the maids as long as they both got their work done. How generous of him to let his chamber maid “go to the ball” before she got her chores completed.
“Easy,” Dec muttered, again feeling how my body tensed with the urge to jump on Maxwell and claw his eyes out. “Thanks, boss,” Dec called after Maxwell as the man let himself into the bedroom and closed the door behind him.
Dec stepped back and I angrily adjusted the too big shirt, scowling.
He gave a little chuckle. “It was your idea. You’re not glad he bought it?”
“I guess not,” I said. “But at least it worked.”
Dec nodded. Then said seriously, “We’re taking him down tonight, Liv. He won’t be able to hurt anyone for a long time after this.”
I blew out a breath. “Good.”
“You trust me?”
I did. I really did. “Yes.”
He seemed inordinately pleased by my answer. “Then get out of here, okay? Go to my house and wait for me. Don’t worry. Don’t get impatient. Don’t…leave Vegas.”
I smiled at him. “I’ll be there when you get home.”
He escorted me to the front door, making sure none of the actual cleaning crew saw me. He took the white shirt from me and then stood on the front porch as I ran for the trees that would hide me as I made my way back to the main street and then called for an Uber ride from the nearest convenience store.
Ten
It had been a long night.
But productive.
We not only had Warren Maxwell behind bars, but several of his “friends” too. Including the one who’d had Maxwell’s painting in his closet.
It wouldn’t be enough to keep him in prison as long as he deserved—the rest of his fucking life—but it was something.
I was exhausted. But I was coming home to Olivia.
“Liv?” I called as I let myself in.
Maybe she was in bed and I could crawl in next to her and…
“In here.”
But that wasn’t Olivia’s voice.
I knew whose it was, though. I sighed and headed into the kitchen.
Olivia was sitting at the table having coffee. With Jordan.
“Thought you were headed home to rest up too,” I told him, nonchalantly crossing to the coffeepot and pouring a cup. I was going to need to stay alert and awake for this.
“Yep. Just had a loose string to tie up,” my friend and handler said.
I took the seat next to Olivia and took her hand in mine.
“Jordan got here about five minutes ago,” Olivia said. “Told me we needed to discuss a few things.”
I sipped my coffee, trying not to seem like I wanted to punch Jordan in the face. This had to happen now? Whatever it was? I wasn’t even sure.
“I thought it was important to come over and introduce myself to your new girlfriend, since you weren’t going to do it,” Jordan said. “And to give you both a piece of advice.”
“How did you know?” I asked him.
“I checked up on you,” he said, without batting an eye.
“You tailed us?”
He nodded. “Her climbing out your bedroom window was impressive.”
I shouldn’t have been surprised. “And you didn’t try to stop her from stealing my car?” I asked with an eyeroll.
Jordan laughed. “She had the keys. How did I know she was stealing it?”
“Okay, so what are you doing here now?”
“I just came to make sure she knows what she’s getting into,” Jordan said.
“Meaning what?” Olivia asked.
“Meaning that you’re getting involved with a convicted felon who works for the FBI and has one of the best handlers in the department,” Jordan said, sitting back in his seat.
Olivia nodded. “I knew that. Well, except for the best handler thing,” she added. “So, I guess thanks for that.”
Jordan nodded. “Yeah, that’s an important thing for you to know. Especially if you’re going to be leaving your fingerprints at a crime scene.”
Olivia tensed and we both looked at Jordan in surprise.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“The painting that was stolen from Maxwell’s bedroom and stashed in Riscoff’s had Olivia Stone’s prints on the frame.”
I looked at her. “No gloves? Seriously?”
She frowned at me. “We didn’t talk about gloves when we were going over everything.”
“We practiced with the intent you were going to be taking the thing with you. But if you’re leaving it behind, you need gloves.”
“Well, I was more worried about—”
Jordan cleared his throat. “Before you say anything that will incriminate you,” he said. “Just know that Declan’s short leash will apply to you as well if you’re going to be staying with him.”
“So, I’m not in trouble right now?” she asked.
“I found no evidence of a forced entry or anything actually missing.”
Olivia visibly relaxed.
“I did, however, find something that you might be interested in.” Jordan shifted, pulling something from his interior suit pocket. He handed a tri-folded piece of paper to Olivia.
“What’s this?” She unfolded it and scanned the page. She quickly looked up at Jordan. “Really?”
He nodded. “Really.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“My mother filed a report with the police claiming that Maxwell stole the painting,” Olivia said. She glanced back to Jordan. “Why didn’t they get it back for her?”
“They apparently searched his home and office, but didn’t find it.”
Olivia looked down at the paper again, tracing her finger over her mother’s signature.
“What’s this mean?” I asked. Jordan wouldn’t bring this up without a reason.
“It means that Olivia can have the painting. We confiscated it from the scene and now, with this and with her mother’s death, it means the painting belongs to Olivia.”
I stared at my friend. He really was a friend. He was a great cop. A by-the-book guy. But he did the job for the right reasons—to
make the world a better place with fewer bad guys.
Olivia sniffed. “Oh my God,” she said softly.
I leaned over and kissed the top of her head. Then I looked up at Jordan. “Thanks,” I said sincerely.
He gave me a single nod, then pushed his chair back and stood. “I’m just happy that you’re starting to see which things in life are actually valuable.” He gave Olivia a smile. “And I’m happy to have a hand in keeping you out of trouble.”
“You think I’ll keep him out of trouble?” she asked.
“I think you’ll give him a good reason to stay out of trouble,” Jordan said.
She smiled up at him. “You’re not worried that he’s teaching me all his tricks?”
“As long as you keep it inside these walls, I’m okay with anything,” Jordan said. Then he paused. “I mean…” Then he frowned. “Somehow, Dec will find a way of twisting that around and getting into trouble and saying it was okay because it was all inside the house.” Jordan sighed. “Just try to be good.”
We both nodded like a good girl and boy.
The moment the front door closed behind him, Olivia slid into my lap. “So,” she said, a sparkle in her eye and a mischievous smile on her lips. “Wanna play a game?”
I gripped her hips and pressed up against her. “Yeah.”
She leaned in and kissed me deeply. Then slid off of my lap. She grabbed a deck of cards. “Are you any good at strip poker?” she asked.
“Cheating or no?”
She lifted a shoulder. “The way I look at it, there are no losers here either way.”
I laughed and gestured to the chair across the table from me. She took her seat and started shuffling.
“You know, I have a feeling that’s how everything is going to be between us from here on out,” I told her. “Just two lucky bastards, winning at everything.”
She gave me a smile that I knew I would love until the day that I died.
“I have to admit,” she said. “I like our odds.”
I did, too. I definitely did, too.
* * *
Thanks for reading Big Deck!
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What else is out now? Even more dirty, alpha guys with big...egos. Read Big Baller, Big Hose and Big Rod!
About the Author
Author Blake Wilder loves to write sexy romantic comedies about guys with big egos, big attitudes, and big hearts. When she’s not creating dirty-talking heroes, Blake can be found buying shoes or going to country music festivals, where she sings off-key loudly to every song.
A lifelong resident of the midwest, she dreams of the day she can ditch the snow and run away to Fiji with a real life hottie. Until then, she’ll be wrapped in fleece and drinking coffee (which may or may not be spiked with whiskey) while writing about the fictional girl next door and her alpha hero.
Visit www.blakewilderbooks.com for more info on the SIZE MATTERS series!
Also by Blake Wilder
Big Head
Big Hose
Big Baller
Big Rod
Coming Soon- Big Puck!
