JACK: Las Vegas Bad Boys (17 page)

When the shower stops and he wraps a towel around his waist, I turn to face him.

“Baby, I don’t want you to do this for me.”

“Why not? I would do anything for you.”

“I know you say that, but this could mean the world for your career. It would give you access to—”

“To what? The limelight? A house in the Bahamas? A private jet? I don’t want that shit. I don’t want you always being scared of being found, of a story coming out about your childhood. Besides, I don’t want to make that kind of music anymore. I told Kirby yesterday, before anything about the McQueens was revealed, that I didn’t want to consider the contract unless someone listened to my new music—the stuff I’ve been working on at my studio at my parent’s place.”

“And what did Kirby say?”

“He doesn’t take me seriously. And that fucking hurts, Tess. It’s exactly why I’m not okay with being theirs.”

“I get that.” I nod in agreement. I pull him to me, his warm, slick body tempting me, and I wonder why I was in such a hurry to get dressed. “I don’t want you to be theirs either. I only want you to be mine.”

“Good. Because I am.”

“Can we not deal with Mark Denzel and the police and all that bullshit today? It’s already after two in the afternoon. Can we just get dressed up and go to a fancy dinner and laugh with our friends and celebrate our engagement and have this one final night? This one night where you’re on top of the world as a DJ, and I’m someone’s fiancé and daughter and sister? Can we just pretend, for one night, that none of that stuff with my past exists?”

Jack’s forehead presses against mine and he brings me in, squeezing me tight. “Okay, Tess. Tonight we can push all of that aside and give ourselves over to the decadence of Vegas—even though neither of us, at our core, are those people.”

“And who are we, at our core?” I ask.

Jack smiles. “I thought at our core we were fuck-buddies?”

“In that case….” I give him a cheesy
I’m so head-over-heels-for-you
wink, and then I drop to my knees.

Because I’d rather be Jack Harris’s fuck buddy than anything else.

S
tacked
, my club, is at capacity, as I expected. Ace has got to be pumped for this sold-out event, and as I wait in my dressing room to go on stage, Tess gives my ass a squeeze.

“I know this is your last gig as a DJ, and that you’re telling Kirby tomorrow that you won’t sign the contract, but I am really happy that I get to be here tonight, as your fiancé. As your girl.”

“Me too, baby.” I give a Tess a kiss, wanting to give her so much more. “Soon we can start a new life, just you and I.”

“I want to move to your parents’ island. Is that weird?”

“No,” I tell her, cupping her face with my hands. “I do, too. We can play music and catch fish and fucking make tea every day. You can read books and we can have babies. It’s gonna be perfect.”

“How many babies do you want, Jack?” Tess gives me a closed-lip grin, shaking her head.

“I want to have so many babies with you.” I lick my lips, loving the idea. “You are gonna be so hot knocked up, Tess. I can just see it. Your tits so nice and big,” I say, running my hands over her breasts. “Your belly so round with my baby in you. Damn.” I move my hand to adjust my growing cock. Just thinking about putting a baby in her gets me hard.

“I had no idea you wanted to be a father so bad.”

“No, I just want to be your baby’s daddy.”

“You’re making me so horny, Jack.”

“Good. Tonight, after the show, I’m gonna bring you back here and I’m gonna put a baby in you.”

“Is that so?”

I lean in and kiss her pink lips. “It is so.”

A knock on the door draws us apart. The manager sticks his head in the door.

“Show time, Jack.”

“Okay, hey, can you have security take Tess to the private table?”

“Of course,” he says. “Just follow me.”

“Good luck, baby,” Tess says, slapping my ass as she walks away.

We made a good call, not dealing with the police today. We needed to be together, with our family and friends, and just enjoy this calm before the motherfucking storm.

Kirby is waiting for me backstage, and I knew this conversation was coming.

“Hey, man.” I give him a fist bump, and then notice Kendrick from KMG behind him. “Good of you guys to be here, but I’m about to go on.”

“No, we know,” Kirby says. “Kendrick just wanted to wish you luck.”

Kendrick steps forward to speak. “The crowd is pumped, son, and we’re excited to sit down tomorrow and go over the contract. A hundred mill is no fucking joke.” He squeezes my shoulder. “You make us proud.”

I give Kirby a sidelong glance, my eyebrows raised. “We talked about my stipulations. Did you inform Kendrick?”

Kirby gives me a grin. “We sure did. I’m telling you, Jack, KMG is behind you 110%.”

“We are,” Kendrick says. “You want to produce an acoustic album, do it. We’re behind you, with whatever vision you have. You’re a worldwide sensation for a reason. We’re not losing you over something as small as what sort of music you want to play.”

I step back, shocked. Never did I think Kirby was taking me seriously, taking my music seriously.

“I had no idea you’d actually consider that.”

Kendrick shrugs. “I’m in the business of making people happy. I’m not letting a star like you walk away. It’s not like you’re some up-and-coming celebrity. You know how many views your sex tape got on YouTube the last two weeks?”

“No fucking clue,” I tell him, my jaw tensing at the mention of it. “I don’t look at that shit.”

“Okay, well, it was enough to make everyone in our marketing department flip out.”

“That’s awesome, but it was costly for my fiancée. So I don’t find it particularly newsworthy.”

“Your fiancée?” Kirby shakes his head. “You and Ashley got back together? This is amazing.”

The stage manager signals for me and a crewmember starts fitting me for a mic and headset.

I scowl. “Not Ashley. Listen, I’ve got to go. I’m marrying Tess. And if you’re serious about these new contract stipulations, I need to consult with her.”

“The waitress?” Kirby laughs in disbelief. “Okay, I’ll get Lola to spin this into something gold.”

“It’s not a fucking joke, Kirby. And we aren’t spinning anything.”

Kendrick points behind me, I turn and see the stage manager waving me onstage. “I think you
are
spinning something—and, son, that crowd is ready.”

I step away, my head totally fucked, which is not where I wanted to be going into tonight’s show. I thought this was the end of my dealings with KMG. I didn’t want to be their puppet, and I wanted to keep Tess from the limelight—but what if I could have both? Make my music and do it with my fucking integrity intact?

I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and step on stage. Raising my head to the crowd, I hear a thunderous cheer rise. The lights flash; I drop a beat, and raise my hands in the motherfucking air.

* * *

The parents are drinking champagne and laughing—dancing awkwardly, but loving it. Claire’s mom is talking with JoJo’s dad, and I smile, wondering if there are still love connections to be made in this group.

“Was he nervous?” Emmy asks. “About KMG being here?”

“No,” I tell her, leaning in. “I honestly don’t think that he’s going through with the deal.”

“Really?” Emmy’s eyes bug out. “That’s kind of insane, Tess. It’s like, a whole other league of money.”

“I just don’t want to live a life with that sort of attention, Emmy. I don’t think Jack does either.”

Emmy doesn’t understand my revulsion to the spotlight, and she can’t. I don’t want anyone to find out the truth of what happened between the man I called father my entire life and the woman I thought was my mom. The gun. The shots. The person I wanted to kill and the one who let herself take the fall.

I swallow, turning toward the stage. The opener has left and Jack’s gear is being set up. It might take a while, and I pour a glass of champagne as I wait.

A few minutes pass. Everyone is talking.

And then I see her: Ashley Fast.

Walking straight for me.

Seriously?

Sauntering to our table, past the roped off VIP area, basically, and because she
is
the VIP of this entire place, no one pushes back on her. Besides, she has an entourage of, like, six people, and the entire group comes off as very intimidating.

Also, her Amazon-goddess limbs—and her perfect blonde extensions, and her luscious fake eyelashes, and her tiny dress that I swear is a shirt—make me sort of weep internally.

I still can’t believe Jack said no to that and yes to me. I mean, being this close to her makes
me
want to sleep with her.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” she asks.

“Me?” I look around and realize everyone in our party is looking at us.

I should have taken Emmy up on borrowing a pair of stilettos because I could use a few inches right now. Being at least eye level would even the playing field.

Which is dumb. There’s no need to level anything.

She holds a hand up to her security guard, directing him not to follow us as we walk to a private table farther back in the club. My bodyguard is close by but, following Ashley’s lead, I wave him off as well. We sit down, and I’m grateful it’s less noisy here in the back.

“I just needed to apologize,” she begins. “For everything. Jack blocked me on his phone, which I get. But I haven’t been able to make things right with you guys. I totally effed up, and I know we don’t know one another that well, but, Tess, I didn’t mean for things to get so ... insane.”

I sigh, unfolding my arms because being hostile won’t help anything. She really does appear sincere.

And she had no idea her press hounds would result in any real danger.

Emmy would probably say I’m a softy, that I’m letting people walk all over me. But Claire didn’t press charges against the father of her child even though he had millions.

Things change when the past is no longer the only story you have to tell.

I have new chapters. A new story. One with Jack and a long-lost family, and friends and a future. I’m living a fairy tale. I don’t need to play with fire to let the old books burn. Jack was right; I’ve slayed my dragons. Now I can ride off in the sunset with my Knight.

“I forgive you, Ashley.” I smile softly. “But, um, revenge is an ugly beast. It ruins things. Maybe stop being angry at Jack for not being the man for you, and start opening your heart to the possibility of something else. Someone new.”

“I already found someone new. Maybe that’s why I’m so forgiving, right now.”

“Good for you, Ashley.” I pat her hand, proud of myself for getting through this conversation.

Music pounds from the stage as Jack makes his entrance. Beats blare and his hands are in the air, raised high. It’s like slow motion magic; it’s like the calm before the storm.

I’m so distracted by the unexpected apology, by Ashley’s freaking gorgeous face, and by the fact that Jack is up on stage, that I don’t notice the chaos that begins to swirl around me. Around the club.

And then I hear the gunshots.

I spin, in a hazy fog, as the thousands of people at the club shriek, scream, look for cover. Throwing their hands over their heads as they fall to the floor. Eyes widen in horror; security closes in.

But I don’t focus on any of those things.

All I see is the throng of men coming toward me, the flood of faces covered with bandanas. The raised guns, the leather coats. The bikers who have penetrated.

In an instant, the strobe lights go out and the club is dark. My bodyguard isn’t by my side; I have no protection. Ashley has dropped to the floor, shrieking like a hyena.

It’s so dark that I don’t fault anyone for not coming to my rescue—and besides, no one knows the source of the blackout, the cause of the gunshots. Except for me.

I know.

As if a spotlight is on us, I feel his eyes lock on mine. The eyes that haunted my dreams and tried to claw their way to my heart. Tried to ruin me.

The eyes that allowed heinous things to happen to me. The eyes that told me I was his daughter, when all along I was nothing borne of him.

I was not his flesh and blood, and I was not his little girl. To him, I was trash. To him, I was worthless.

Until I left him with a dead wife and a hell of a lot of secrets on the Brotherhood. I lied for him; I saved his ass.

And now he is coming for mine.

“Cammie.” His voice bellows in the dark. I’m sure the club is surrounded by hundreds of riders. They are the Anarchy Brotherhood for a reason. They don’t play by anyone’s rules, certainly not the rules of this casino.

I draw a breath, wishing that Jack were by my side.

“Get away from me,” I hiss.

“You’re a hard girl to track down, you know that?”

“This is stupid. You’re gonna get killed.”

“I don’t think I have anything to worry about. These nightclub bouncers don’t have guns. No one here carries.”

I don’t understand why he’s so confident, walking toward me so slowly, unless he has this place surrounded in ways I can’t imagine. This club is isolated, a cavernous space in the middle of a massive casino. You could secure the perimeter, dismantle the power source, and do whatever the hell you wanted inside.

God, just thinking of all the people in here.... Ace, the owner of this place, Landon and his tycoon parents, JoJo’s dad and brothers all came tonight.

Fuck.

I try not to think about who else might be here. Kendrick from KMG is here, and he’s the highest-profile record producer in the world.

This is a disaster. It could be a slaughter. I know how ruthless and vengeful the Brotherhood is.

No wonder the security guards aren’t closing in on them right now. They’re outnumbered.

“It’s time you pay me for what you took, Cammie.” He spits the words at me, and I hear his boots stepping closer.

“I took nothing from you,” I say, steeling my voice, wishing I could see him, see anything. Usually at Jack’s shows clubbers hold their cellphones in the air using the screens as flashlights, but no one is standing now. No one is flashing anything, because no one wants to draw attention to themselves.

“You took my wife’s life. Murdered your own mother.”

“That bullet was meant for you. And she wasn’t my mother.”

“Ah, so you finally discovered the secrets of your past, while you’ve been whoring yourself through Vegas the same way you did on the compound.”

“I’m not a whore,” I scream in the blackness.

“You can shout that all you want, but that doesn’t change the facts.”

I can smell his dirt and his leather-soaked sins. I can smell his filth and his hate, and I want to pummel him in the chest. I want to make him get away. I want him to never touch me again.

“You were your mother’s when she came to the compound; she was a whore like you and needed a home.”

I can tell he’s less than a few feet from me, and as my eyes adjust to the light I can see the bandana covering his face, muffling his words, but not enough so I can’t hear him. I hear him clear as day.

His long, white hair shines in the dark, and I hate that he is all I see.