Kid: Cerberus MC Book 2 (17 page)

“Yeah,” I say softly. “Not really my thing.”

“We’ll see,” she says with a quick wink.

“I’m sure the guys are going to order in pizza and sit around the living room bitching about the women being gone, so you may want to stay out of the line of fire.”

“Are you saying it’s not safe out there with them?” I feel a wave of unease come over me knowing I’ll be here alone with all of the guys.

“Oh, God no!” she says quickly. “You’re perfectly safe. There’s not one man in this clubhouse that would ever cause you harm. They’re protective and chivalrous to a fault. I’m just saying you probably won’t want to listen to them bitching. When we first talked about it a couple of weeks ago, you would’ve thought we said we were all running off and eloping with men we don’t even know.”

“Seriously?”

She nods and a wide smile crosses her face. “I can’t complain though. I got one hell of a private show from Kincaid after that.”

I laugh as she opens the back door to go back inside. “Too much information,” I tell her and shake my head.

“Yeah, okay,” she says with a mischievous smirk. “Like I didn’t listen to your mutual masturbation story yesterday morning.”

“You practically hounded me for that information!” I exclaim.

“I did, and believe me Diego loved it when I did the same thing with him this morning.” I shake my head at her. This woman is nuts. “Later,” she says with a quick wiggle of her fingers.

Maybe it won’t be so bad here while Kid is away.

“So just four years in the Corps?” BT asks as we cross the New Mexico state line.

“Yeah. Believe me that was long enough.” I look out the window and watch as we pass the red dirt, rock formations, and sage grass on the roadside. “I honestly went in thinking I’d make a career of it, but I found out real quick that shit wasn’t for me.”

“You like what you’re doing now?” He knows all about the work we do with Kincaid. Shadow knows him from when Blade was at Walter Reed years and years ago.

“Love it. Just an all-around better fit for me.”

We ride in silence for a while, which I’m fine with. My head is trying to work through everything that has happened since I pulled Khloe off the edge of that bridge. I can’t seem to pinpoint the exact moment when she got under my skin. It almost feels like she’s always been there.

“So you and Khloe, huh?” I sigh loudly. I knew he’d bring her up eventually. I may have been at the table with her this morning, but I still saw the way he watched us, as if what we were doing was wrong, and on some level it felt wrong to me too.

“Looks that way,” I admit and run my hand over my still not quite familiar beard.

“She looks younger than seventeen.”

I want to ask him if he’s taken a long look at her. She may be small framed but every part of her that makes her a woman is there. The woman has more bodily assets than some of the other girls at the club, even with their enhancements.

I opt for comedy rather than taking the chance of him picturing Khloe’s spectacular breasts in his mind. “That’s because you’re old, man.”

He laughs and nods his head. “Okay, I’ll give you that.”

I feel the need to explain. The last thing I want is anyone thinking I was trolling the high school campus looking for a young thing to take back to the clubhouse for less than pure activities.

“She’s had a rough life. Parents are dead; she’s been in shitty foster homes for years.” I shrug my shoulders, attempting to hide the rage I feel every time I think about that horrible foster dad of hers. “I just wanted to help her out.”

“Never intended to fall for her then.” It’s not a question; it’s a statement. I’m certain anyone who watches our interactions can see how much I care for her.

“Not in a million years,” I mutter and turn my attention back to the landscape that is sailing by.

“No judgement here, man. I’m heading to Vegas for a girl I’ve just kissed a few times.”

BT keeps his eyes on the road and lets me try to work through this shit without spectators for the rest of the trip into Sin City.

***

We head directly to Vegas. The first thing we do is grab a nicer hotel room. The plan is to stay here while we do surveillance. Just because we will be dealing with nasty shitheads daily, doesn’t mean we have to stay in a crappy hotel.

BT plans to somehow lure the SINdicate into loaning him money, so we also have to drive closer to The Golden Dragon and get another room. He has to appear to be on his last leg for the story to stand up.

After securing the nicer room, I drop BT off at the shitty hotel to grab a room there, and I take the car back to the nicer hotel. A quick cab ride later, and I’m walking through the dusty doors of The Golden Dragon. It reeks of stale cigarettes and spilled beer. Why anyone would want to come in here is beyond me.

I walk across the threadbare carpets looking for BT. Spotting him at a blackjack table, I settle in at a slot machine. Not only are the machines some of the oldest ones I’ve ever seen, but even the drink girl also looks a decade or so past her prime. This is not something that would ever happen at a casino on the strip. An attempt to pass this mess off as a Vegas good time would quickly end in bankruptcy.

This isn’t even the kind of place the locals would frequent. This place seems more likely to be visited by the people who are so far down on their luck, they’re here more for the air conditioning rather than the slots and tables.

I have to admit that BT plays a drunk stupid guy really well. I watch as he sways in his seat, placing the most ridiculous bets. Even to me he looks like a target. He clears the table faster than I thought possible, each man getting up one by one as he ruins their luck right along with his.

No less than five minutes after watching him at the table, he’s broke and walking to the ATM. I stay back but keep him in my line of sight. I see a man approach him and escort him into a hallway set off from the side of the teller desk where he was attempting to get money.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. He should have more help than this. I know Shadow said this is his to deal with, but I’ve never gone into a situation so blind before in my life. There are always too many factors, too many possible outcomes in a situation like this to go in with no intel.

I’ve seen two other guys come out from behind the door BT disappeared behind, both dressed in semi-nice suits, both looking exactly the way you think a douchey mob guy would look. It was comical almost.

Just as I’m about to get up and kick the door in, BT emerges with his hands clutched around a wad of bills. Somehow that fucker went from bum of the year to the possessor of at least ten grand in cash.

The next two hours is very painful to watch. BT is able to lose every single penny he got from the guys behind the wall. I’m seriously considering asking him if he wants to play poker once this whole job is over. Seems it would be a very lucrative endeavor for myself.

I’m sure he only has a few hands left so I leave the casino. I have every intention of going back to the hotel and getting some sleep. Last night was horrible and I know tonight won’t be any better. I opt to hit the strip instead. This city seriously never takes a break. I give the evil eye to all of the porn promoters as they flap and whip little cards with bar, club, and prostitution promotions on them. They must sense my mood because they don’t thrust them out in front of me like they’re doing with everyone else.

Walking down the street, lights flashing, half-naked women everywhere, and my mind only holds one thing. Khloe. The memories of her are relentless, and for the first time in my life I don’t even mind the fixation.

We’ll start surveillance on The Golden Dragon tomorrow which means hours and hours of sitting and watching. I actually look forward to sitting with nothing to do but run our story through my head. Nothing like a long torture session to keep me on my toes.

I shoot off a quick text to Snatch to get Khloe’s new phone number and send her a message.

Me: Hey, Sweet Girl.

I watch the three dots begin and then stop and then begin again. She’s either writing a super long message or she’s rethought what she was going to send originally.

Khloe: Hey

Yeah, she deleted it.

Me: What were you going to type?

Khloe: Nothing

Me: Don’t lie to me, beautiful

Khloe: I was going to tell you that I was thinking about you

Me: Oh really? In what capacity….

Khloe: I’m in bed….

Me: Nice!! Send me a picture

Khloe: Can’t

Me: Why not?

Khloe: Snatch said no child pornography…

Me: So you were thinking naughty thoughts about me?

Khloe: Remember the other night?

How could I ever forget?

Me: Yeah

Khloe: Picture that

This girl is going to be the death of me. I turn around and walk back to my hotel, hoping no one pays attention to the rod I’m now sporting in my jeans.

Two weeks and she’s eighteen. I think the second I get her in my arms the way she should be, I’ll never let her go.

“Wow,” I say walking into the kitchen for breakfast. “Rough night?”

The men in the room are as chipper as ever and seem to be enjoying the clear pain every one of the women is in. They’re all a sickly shade of green with bloodshot eyes, and less than enthused facial expressions.

“Serves their asses’ right for going to the strip club,” Snatch says even though his words don’t match his behavior. I watch as he takes a bottle of Tylenol and a full bottle of water to Snapper. She’s not my favorite person, but seeing her this miserable is painful.

I make a plate of food and sit down beside Emmalyn. Her forehead is leaned forward on the table, and Kincaid is soothing her by rubbing big circles on her back. I look up at him, and he just shakes his head. I can tell he doesn’t like that’s she hurting, but the glint in his eyes says it’s worth it if she never does it again.

I chuckle lightly. If getting drunk and having fun the night before turns into mornings like this, consider me deterred.

“You need to eat something,” I hear Kincaid whisper in Emmalyn’s ear. A loud groan is her only answer.

He stands from the table and sets to making her some toast.

She rolls her forehead on the table and looks at me.

I scrunch my nose since she smells like a brewery. “You look miserable,” I say, apparently too loud when her hands sluggishly make to cover her ears.

“Last night was awesome,” she says softly.

“Looks like it,” I agree sarcastically looking around the room.

Even though the guys were pretty upset last night that the girls went out to watch strippers, not one woman in this kitchen is alone; every one of them is being cared for by at least one member.

Rose has the same expression on her face as the men, if not even a little smugger.

“Rose didn’t drink last night?” I ask.

She lets out the most unladylike snorting sound. “Rose drank every one of us under the table. How she’s perfectly fine this morning I have no idea.”

I look back over at Rose, and she just smirks and gives me a wink. It doesn’t surprise me that Rose can hold her liquor; she seems like a tough cookie to me. I guess being around all of these rowdy bikers all these years will teach you a few things.

“Here,” Kincaid says placing a plate of dry toast in from of Em. “Please eat something, baby. Trust me, if you have something in your stomach, you’ll feel better.”

Reluctantly, she brings a triangle of toast to her mouth and takes a small bite. Kincaid seems to calm beside her.

That kind of love is something every woman deserves. It’s the kind of love I never even imagined for myself. I didn’t allow it. It’s that type of love that turns on a dime and becomes irrational anger, uncontrollable rage. Love that deep is what took my parents away from me.

Jealousy and greed were never a part of the unorthodox relationship I had with Alec, and they never would be since there was only a friendship of the deepest kind. I know in my heart I could’ve married Alec and been happy living my days out with my best friend. His death has shattered my already pieced together heart.