Four Seconds to Lose (30 page)

■ ■ ■

CAIN

“Hey, stranger!” Storm greets me at the door, wearing an apron and a beaming grin. “I’m glad you could make it on such short notice.” After claiming a tight hug, she rubs my biceps affectionately. Storm touches me a lot. I don’t welcome the contact from others, but from Storm, I don’t mind. I know it’s a completely platonic gesture and, from her—one of my very best friends—it actually relaxes me.

Surveying her apron—one that reads
Warning: Woman Grilling
—I pat my stomach and ask, “What’s for dinner?” Feeding people is Storm’s passion and she’s an excellent cook. They’ve joked about installing a revolving door for all the people who pass in and out of their Miami beach house on a regular basis.

“Homemade burgers and lots of other stuff. Enough for a crowd, and there seems to be one quickly growing around here.” There’s a pause and then, “So tell me . . . Are you or aren’t you with this alluring new dancer?”

“Thirty seconds in the door, Storm. And I don’t remember you being a gossip,” I toss back. Inside, my guts are twisting. I don’t know what the hell happened this morning. After what I can only describe as the kind of mind-blowing sex that sated every fiber of my body and soul in a way that no other woman ever has, Charlie shut me out.

I expected her to gladly accompany me to my place, to my shower, to my bed.

To eagerly continue where we left off.

But the only thing she seemed eager to do was get away from me. She started stumbling over her words, offering weak excuses. Practically begging me to drive her home.

Confusing the hell out of me.

In fairness, she
was
so exhausted that she practically passed out in my arms and was out cold within a minute of me laying her onto her bed. I know because I sat beside her and watched her drift off, pushing her gorgeous blond hair off her face, worrying that I should wake her up to take those damn contacts out, searching for pricey bedsheets that I couldn’t find.

Still, exhausted or not, something didn’t feel right about the way we left things. Maybe everything I told her started sinking in and she freaked out. Maybe I should have taken her back to my condo instead of letting that happen on the pier. I couldn’t help myself, though.

I lay in bed for hours, analyzing every second, every word that escaped her mouth. Every moan . . .

And I still can’t make sense of it.

God, I hope I see her today
.

Ginger promised that she’d do what she could to get Charlie here. Now I guess I’ll just have to wait. And dodge Storm’s interrogation.

“I’m not. I’m a hopeless romantic. There’s a big difference.” She smiles, showing me her perfect white teeth. “And when it comes to the mysterious Cain’s love life, yes, your friends are all
extremely
interested. I swear, Ben is infatuated. I don’t remember him talking about one girl so much in my life!”

I hand her a gift bag with several bottles of wine, attempting to distract her, as bare feet pad out from the kitchen. “Cain!” Storm’s mini-me barrels into me, her little arms coiling around my waist.

“Mia!” I chuckle to myself as I take a chunk of her golden-blond hair in my hand and give it a playful tug. She stares up at me with those innocent blue eyes, the same ones that pierced my heart the day she looked up and smiled as she toddled around the furniture in my office, enjoying her newfound mobility.

“All right, all right. We’ll talk later . . .” Storm takes the wine with a secretive grin. “The guys are in the cave.” Slipping her arm around Mia’s shoulder, she gently swivels her daughter around and leads her back toward the kitchen. “Come, minion. Those vegetables won’t wash themselves.”

I head down the hall of their palatial Miami beachfront house. Storm moved in here three years ago with Dan, Mia, and their friends—sisters, Kacey and Livie. That was around the same time that Storm quit Penny’s and opened up her own private acrobatics school. The day she came into my office to tell me—her fingers twisting the material of her skirt nervously, as if she wasn’t sure how I’d take the resignation of the most popular dancer at Penny’s—was the happiest day of my life.

Storm is my shining success story. She is why I do what I do.

Ben’s obnoxious voice carries halfway down the hall. “ . . . she was gone when I woke up, though, which sucked because
damn
, she had the most spectacular—”

“Cock?” I interrupt loudly as I step into the room, slapping Ben’s shoulder as I pass by him. I’m not surprised to find the lot of them with beers in hand, playing video games. It’s how I usually find them, while the women are hanging out on one of the many decks or in another room. Though Storm calls this room Dan’s
cave
, there’s nothing remotely cave-like about it. Light pours in through the wall-to-ceiling windows and, aside from the tan leather sectional and chestnut-brown cabinetry, everything’s decorated in whites and grays.

“Boss man’s here!” Ben yells as the guys burst out in a round of laughter over my well-timed interruption. “Just giving them the Mexico highlights.”

“Embellished, I’m sure,” I murmur, though I don’t really doubt that every bit of what Ben says is true and happened exactly as described. Sometimes I wonder how his dick hasn’t fallen off yet.

Dan rounds the couch with his large hand outstretched, a genuine smile stretched across his face. “Good to see you here, Cain.”

“Congratulations, again. How’s the head after last night?”

He cringes but then laughs. “Those guys are animals. Sorry I didn’t get a chance to talk to you. It’s been a while.”

“I know. Crazy summer . . . Storm’s doing well with the pregnancy so far?”

That light sparks in Dan’s eyes, the one that always does at the mention of Storm. Now that she’s marrying him and carrying his child, it’s like a homing beacon. “Yeah, doing well. Should find out what it is soon.”

“Girl,” Trent—Kacey’s boyfriend and a permanent fixture in the Ryder household—announces with a smirk, adding in a “hey, Cain,” though his focus doesn’t leave the intense one-on-one boxing round with Nate.

“Trent.” I like Trent. I didn’t like him so much when I found out who he really was, when everything about my bartender and Storm’s best friend—Kacey—came to an ugly, explosive head. To this day, I thank God I didn’t feel the need to have a background check done on him. If I had, I would have kicked his ass out of my bar.

And probably beaten him to within an inch of his life.

Dan casually leans over to flick Trent’s ear for that comment before shaking his head. “God help me if it’s another girl. I’m drowning in estrogen.”

“Get a dog,” Nate suggests, followed by a deep shout of “yeah!” as Trent’s player hits the ground in an exaggerated knockout screen shot.

“Why?” Ben snorts. “Storm will just have his balls cut off for humping everything in sight. Then, you’ll
still
be surrounded by estrogen, plus you’ll be stuck picking up a four-legged eunuch’s shit twice a day for the next ten years.”

Dan shoots a crooked grin his way. “Maybe not. Storm hasn’t had
you
fixed for humping everything in sight yet, mate.”

Another round of snorts and chuckles fills the room and I’m reminded of how much I’ve missed hanging out with the guys outside of Penny’s. I’ve just let myself get too wrapped up with all things club-related lately.

I need to get a life. Ideally, one that includes Charlie.

“A drink?” Dan offers, already reaching for the bottle of Rémy that he knows I prefer. Normally, I’d never accept any of my friends catering to my expensive taste, but Dan and Storm can easily afford it and Storm won’t have it any other way.

“How’s the club doing these days?” Dan asks as he hands me a filled glass. “Ben told me about the metal detectors. You’ve got more scum coming in, now that Teasers is closed?”

“Yeah . . . it’s an investment, but it’s worth it.” I take a sip of my drink.

He nods his head slowly, a curious look passing over his face, and I wonder where this conversation is headed this time. Conversations with Dan about the club tend to head in one general direction.

His voice lowers to say, “Starting to hear rumblings of someone new in Miami. From up north, bringing in pure street-grade heroin. Not one of these idiot gangbangers who we can usually take down in a few weeks. An organized operation. This could be big. They expect it’ll lead to a turf war with the cartel.” Dan studies me closely with his next question. “You haven’t seen or heard anything?”

This isn’t the first time we’ve had
this
conversation. I’m not the only one who had a background check done. After Storm quit Penny’s, she admitted to me that Detective Dan had made inquiries and pulled some favors, suspicious of me. It didn’t take him long to dig up my past. I may have—miraculously—avoided a criminal record for my own crimes, but I’m still tied to an ugly paper trail as it relates to my parents.

I was only involved in the drug and prostitution scene by relation. I guess good ol’ Daddy didn’t think mixing me up with that side of the family business was a smart move, when he could make so much money off my fighting. Dan’s not stupid, though. He’s seen his share of that world. He knows it’s not built in silos—separating the dealers from the pimps from the thieves from the murderers. He knows that I’ve made all kinds of connections, whether I meant to or not. Hell, I still get approached by bookies once in a while for a big-ticket fight. Ten years later, all the way in Miami! And then there’s the fact that I’m in the business that I’m in, where I’m constantly approached with illicit propositions.

Dan knows I could find out,
if
I wanted to get involved.
If
I wanted to risk being labeled a police informant, basically painting a target on my chest and putting everyone around me at risk.

“I haven’t heard a thing, Dan. And you know those scumbags are not coming anywhere near Penny’s. That’s why I have the security that I do. That’s why I’m selective with who I hire.”

Dan nods his head once. “I know, Cain. But I told the guys I’d ask, anyway.” With a heavy exhale, he quickly changes the topic, his tone lightening up. “So, tell me about this new dancer at Penny’s.”

“The one that’s got Cain choking the chicken in his office every night?” Ben hollers, while furiously clicking keys to pummel Nate’s player in the face. “Uh-oh. Look! He’s pitching a tent already. ”

“Fuck off, Morris,” I throw back with an annoyed chuckle. “I’m not . . .” I close my eyes and heave a sigh. There’s no point defending myself. We’re not at Penny’s. That means the gloves are off and the jackass is just getting warmed up. Thank God he doesn’t know about last night.

“That’s how it’s done!” Ben shouts, tossing the controller at Nate’s broad chest. “I mean, seriously, Cain . . .” Ben now turns to give me his undivided attention, shaking his head. “Such a travesty. You don’t deserve to own a club. Fuck, you don’t deserve to own a dick!”

I know Ben’s just shooting his mouth off for entertainment purposes. We’ve had more than a few frank drunken-Ben conversations in the past, where he expressed his undying admiration for me for not taking advantage of my position.

Still, I toss a glare at Dan, who can’t keep the smirk off his face. “Thanks, man, for bringing her up.”

Dan lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Just surprised to hear the man of steel is finally hung up on a woman like the rest of us poor suckers, that’s all.”

“I’m not hung up.”

The coughs and poorly muffled laughter from the couch area confirm that no one is buying that. Hell,
I’m
not even buying it. After last night, my thoughts are more firmly hot-wired to Charlie than they were before. Hell, she knows most of my personal shit! For ten years, I’ve kept everything closed in. One night with her and I’m spilling my guts like a prisoner in a torture room. Only I wasn’t tortured.
Far
from it.

“Charlie might give you a shot, you know. If you’d stop your nightly jerk-off sessions already and ask her to yank your—” Ben’s voice cuts of abruptly, his eyes riveted on something behind me. Dan and I turn in unison to find the subject of his crass banter standing at the entrance in a blue bikini, a veggie platter in her hands.

Ben’s right. I
am
pitching a tent at the sight of that body. It’s only that much more desirable, now that I’ve been inside it.

Now that I’m desperate to get inside it again.

But I’m ecstatic to just
see
her again. I must have a stupid-ass smile on my face right now.

Fuck it
, I don’t care.

I watch her stroll in, struggling to close my gaping jaw. “Storm asked me to bring this to you guys,” she explains, her bare feet soundless against the hardwood.
Of course, Storm did. Because
I’m
here.

For a girl who had to have overhead Ben’s crassness, given how damn loud he is, she’s taking it rather well. No flushed cheeks, no mortified stare, nothing. I, on the other hand, grip the back of my neck to keep from lunging over the couch to pummel Ben.

“Hey, Charlie.” Ben’s big, dumb grin is in full force now. The guy’s so smooth around women, he probably doesn’t feel the slightest bit awkward. “When did you get here?” He certainly doesn’t feel awkward about checking out her chest.

“Just now. With Ginger.” Leaning forward, she offers her hand to Trent. “Hi, I’m Charlie.”

There’s a two-second delay in Trent’s response, where he simply stares at her face before he calmly lays down the game stick and his beer, and reaches forward to accept her hand with that damn smile that all the girls at the club
still
chatter about every time he shows up there. “Trent. Hi.”

The handshake lasts one, two, three seconds too long and I’m grinding my teeth, watching for any skin flushing or lip licking on her part.
Jeez . . .
I know Trent is head-over-heels in love with Kacey, so my jealousy is completely unfounded, and yet here I am, ready to pull them apart.

One night. Just one night with her and I’m done for.