Lotto Trouble: A Reverse Harem Romantic Comedy (Lotto Love Book 2)

by Ann Denton

  I’m so pissed I got sucked in by R&R. I was even considering letting them make the final cut at one point, despite the fact that they never smile, congratulate me when I get out of the shower like it’s some accomplishment (which is weird and annoying), and even despite the fact they often call me “girl” which incites my southern womanhood’s ire to no end. Anger bites at my insides. My fingers flex, frustrated by my inability to wring their stupid Russian necks. Well, if I can’t kill them … I’ll at least fucking tell them what I think of them. “You spineless, brainless cocksuckers! You came all the way out here to trick a woman outta her money?”

  “Our money,” Blob interjects.

  I ignore him, watching Rubin as he stands, his dick a little limp worm just like him, and backs away. I take a step closer. No fucking way. He’s not getting out of answering for this. “What the hell was with the mediocre sex? You think I’d pay you out like whores?!”

  That does it. That insult finally sparks a little bit of fire in Rubin’s eyes as he mentally translates what I’ve said. “We are not that. We are not shlyukha.”

  “Shlooka? That mean whore? If you’re fucking me to get my money—yeah you are.” I take a step closer to Rubin, ignoring Suity and his gun. My eyes burn into this asshole’s.

  Rubin takes a step forward, like he’s gonna put his motherfucking hands on me. Do it, asshole. I dare you. I step forward again.

  Andrew calls out, “Heather, maybe now’s not the best—”

  “Shut it!” I hold up a hand to dismiss him like I did Blob, but somehow that feels wrong. Snapping at him cuts me inside and guilt wells up. I’m not actually mad at Andrew. And he’s just trying to calm me down so I don’t get shot to bits. I have to take a deep breath and calm myself. I look away from Rubin and over at Andrew’s soft brown eyes. I bite my lip and say, “Sorry.”

  He gives me a sad half-smile and holds out his arms.

  Somehow that gesture breaks the spell I’m under. It snaps my anger in half and lets me walk away. Rubin’s still standing there, looking like an idiot, as I leave him and walk across the pool tiles to Andrew. For some reason, Suity and Blob let me. Maybe because they’ve decided to jibber jabber with Reval in Russian. I can’t tell if they’re fighting or if that’s just what Russian sounds like. But none of them look happy. Good.

  J2 stands a bit apart from the others. He keeps his gun trained on me, like the asshole he is, but he lets me walk without protest.

  I glance over at BJ and Jeremy, who are squatting on the pool tiles, having their own whispered conversation, their eyes on J2. I can’t tell what they’re thinking, but Jeremy swallows hard, so I’m pretty sure they’re feeling the same body-ache inducing fear that I am, even if theirs isn’t overlaid with rage. BJ’s fist clenches and that gives me a little surge of pride. He should be angry. R&R betrayed all of us.

  When I reach Andrew, I sink onto the lounge chair in front of him, moving his legs aside to make space. Andrew pulls me onto his lap. He’s the only one of us not naked. He’s still wearing his swimsuit, and it’s a silly swimsuit. It’s got floating hot dogs all over it. I stare at it as Andrew wraps his arms around me. I let myself go blank for a minute, just staring at the hot dog pattern, not thinking, not feeling. Betrayal … can leave you hollow. It’s so overwhelming, so all encompassing, so exhausting. You can end up wrung out like a rag. I feel a little like that as I sink into Andrew’s arms. Wrung out.

  “Hey,” he whispers, tracing circles on my hips with his fingertips. “I love how you hit the gun out of that guy’s hands. That was hot.”

  I chuckle. “Yeah?”

  “Yup. Only, next time, if you don’t mind … actually grab the gun.”

  “Then they’d have shot me.”

  “Not before you tossed the gun to me. I coulda’ taken them all down.”

  “You shoot?”

  “Not at all.” I can hear Andrew’s smile in his voice. I twist around because I have to see it. How can he be so silly and calm in this moment?

  Andrew wears a watery grin, but he tries to blink back the emotions. He lifts a hand to trace down my jawline and his eyes follow his fingers. He swallows hard and forces his grin wider. He’s trying to calm me down and put me in a better mood. Me, the raging bitchaholic. He’s trying to make the best of a deadly situation, trying to hold it together and barely succeeding—for me. He’s trying for me.

  That hollow space inside me fills up with something I’ve never felt before. Like sunlight maybe. Or those little tickling wisps of dandelions that fly through the air.

  I don’t know what to do with this feeling. So, I revert to my old standby. Sarcasm. “Oh, I see how it is. I get shot so you can escape.” I lean back and grin at him.

  “Well, that would be the noble thing to do. Sacrifice yourself to save us poor men.”

  “Too bad I’m not noble then.”

  He laughs and tugs me closer. “I’m glad you’re not.” He plants a kiss on top of my head. And dammit all if that sweet gesture doesn’t nearly break me. Because now, I really don’t want to die. But as the Russians turn back to look at us, their mouths in straight, unsmiling lines, my chances of survival don’t look good.

  Chapter Seven

  Katie

  We stand on the path, watching the trees and waiting for what feels like an eternity. But we don’t hear gunshots ring out.

  Eventually, Alec says, “Well, no shots tells us one thing at least.”

  “What’s that?” Kenneth asks, helping Alec reposition Sports Coat on his shoulder—the mob man hasn’t shown any signs of waking.

  “They’re probably here to capture and not kill.”

  I slump against Danny and my knees get wobbly as momma’s crap version of jello salad. I’m so relieved. And at the same time … I feel this tiny ping. Of elation? Justification? Self-righteousness? I’m not sure. But after a minute, it gives me the strength to stand and move forward. I’m so, so relieved that I chose right. That we’re not out here on a fool’s errand while Heather and the guys are being … I can’t even finish the thought. Instead, I focus on what we’re gonna do.

  “If they’re here for someone, it’s gotta be Peter Brown.” I push off Danny and move forward, taking the lead as the path turns from pavement into a worn dirt trail. “Let’s go get us a gambling jerkwad.” I walk into the forest, letting the canopy wipe out the moon and coat me in shadows. But I don’t fucking shiver. Nope. I can’t. Because I’m a woman on a mission. I’m a badass who’s about to bring down one asshole and then take out another five. Yup. That’s me.

  In my mind, I start wearing leather and doing flips. All kinds of Cat Woman-y shit. And even though my tits grow like three cup sizes in my ima7ugination, they do not fucking hurt when I run.

  I’m gonna rock this rescue mission.

  That’s what I tell myself all night long, as we walk through clouds of mosquitoes that wage a guerrilla war on us. They attack and retreat and attack and retreat. I even swallow one accidentally. It is not a fun night. We have no water, we’re exhausted, and the guys have to take turns carrying our POW and guarding our rear. The one lucky thing about this island, is it seems that parrots and lizards are about the only animals. So we don’t run into anything too scary as we wander through the dark.

  It takes a long time, longer than I expect. And that means grumbling. It means complaining and cursing. But it also means random life stories come out. Of course, when Danny says he lost his virginity after he won a national championship at fourteen we all call out, “Lie!” He just grins and tells us he was actually fifteen. Kenneth ends up talking about the recipe book he’s working on as dawn filters through the trees. He’s about halfway through right now, but he’s stuck on a dessert dish.

  “It just feels like everything’s been done.” Kenneth explains as he shoulders Sports Coat.

  “Man, I felt like that for awhile. Not for cooking. But I’ve been cliff diving, sky diving, all that shit all over the place. I was starting to feel like I was runni
ng out of things to do,” Alec agrees.

  “What broke you out of your rut?” Kenneth grunts, shifting his burden.

  “Not what. Who.” Alec’s response is curt. But he steps forward to take the lead and his eyes land on mine. He holds my gaze for a second and his eyes burn holes through my skin, down to my very soul. Then he turns and goes tromping through the trees.

  He takes my breath with him.

  Not fair. I still want to be pissed. But that look, that look. That’s a look I’ve only ever read about. That’s a look I’ve never thought I’d see in real life. And Alec just gave it to me.

  We make it to the waterfall by mid-afternoon. It’s only supposed to be a half day walk to get up here, but the guys have had a huge fucking lump of human to carry. A couple times, I could have sworn our prisoner woke up, but then his eyes would roll back and he’d fall limp. Checking on him slowed us down. Plus, all our adrenaline wore off. After the crazy night with no sleep, I am so exhausted. I’m covered in sweat and mosquito bites. My hair has been tangled in so many branches that it looks like a tumbleweed. In other words, I look like anyone who has a job outside during the summer in Oklahoma. Pretty sure you couldn’t pick me out of a line up of swamp monsters. I stick to the back of the group, in the hope that the guys will look at me a little bit less.

  But how I look is nothing compared to Peter Brown.

  We come upon him at the waterfall, as expected. The path curves and opens up into a bit of a clearing, where wide black stones make amazing little spots for the sunbathing billionaires who rent this island. The waterfall is a gorgeous, narrow trickle that spills down a steep series of black cliffs like a white ribbon. It splashes into a wading pool that’s too perfectly kidney-shaped to be natural. The second I see all that water, I want nothing more than to jump into it. I want to drink it, bathe in it, and hide in it from the fucking bugs.

  Kenneth’s hand stops me as I step forward. He points through the trees and brush. There, in the middle of the water, is Peter Brown. Only, the man is so swollen and blotchy he does not look like himself anymore. He still has his buzzed brown hair and infant-sized ears—those are recognizable from behind. But his back is so covered in welts from mosquito bites that it looks misshapen. Parts of it are so red they’re almost bleeding because he’s clearly scratched them up. And though we've been in the shade, Peter Brown clearly got a sunburn yesterday because when he turns to face us, bits of skin are peeling off his nose. It looks like someone's taken a cheese grater to it. All in all, Peter Brown looks like something that the ER nurses would call “an interesting case.” Heather and I used to hang out with this girl named Lisa who worked in the ER, and based on her stories, I never want to be an interesting case. I cross all my fingers and toes and pray that we do not end up looking the same. I mean, he is mirror-breakingly bad right now.

  "Peter!" Alec yells. His voice is strong, commanding. The way my voice never sounds even when I practice 10,000 times. Heather tried once or twice to turn me into a phone sex operator. She thinks my laugh is cute and my innocent voice would appeal to guys. But I tossed that idea of hers in the trash where it belonged, right next to her suggestion that we ride across the country in a Greyhound bus and flash every car that drove by.

  Peter Brown takes one looks at us and starts to run, I mean wade, because he is still submerged to his waist in the pool under the waterfall. Alec doesn’t hesitate. He runs to the edge of the pool and leaps in, sending water everywhere as he chases down our target. Danny drops Sports Coat on the ground carelessly and Kenneth hands over the closet rod. Danny takes it with a nod of thanks. Then—again using some kind of guy-magic-mojo that’s unspoken and total horseshit—they split up and go around opposite sides of the pool.

  I stay back in case our prisoner wakes up or Peter tries to lunge past Alec. Well, really, I stay back because I have no idea what I'm doing. I don’t know how to catch people. My daddy might have taken me shooting, but my hunting skills are Elmer Fudd level at best.

  My guys have no such imposter syndrome issues. They slink around the pool like they’re bounty hunters, calling out things like, “I’m at eight o’clock!”

  I don’t even know if Alec can hear them. Between Peter Brown and Alec, the pool has been turned into a white, frothing pit of foam. They are splashing and making so many waves that I’m pretty certain if any fish lived in this pond, they’ve gone and died of a heart attack. The rocks in the pool must be slippery or something because watching Alec pursue Peter is like watching a horror movie chase scene at a banana factory. Honest to God, it is the most ridiculous thing I have ever seen. They try so hard to run, when they would be faster walking. But—men. In order to run, both of them have to lift their knees up super high out of the water, so they basically look like hopping, waddling, basilisk lizards—the kind that run across the water with their knees all splayed out. Only, these men aren’t as talented as the lizards. They are slipping and sliding all over the place. And the the tension I can feel mounting in my chest—this need to apprehend Peter so that we can try to find out about these gangsters: who they are, what makes them tick, how to get them to release Heather and her guys—is at complete war with the epic ridiculousness of the chase in front of me.

  Peter Brown pinwheels his arms every other step because he’s sliding around so much. He’s nearly to the edge of the pool on the opposite side when he notices Danny. Immediately, he changes direction. He changes again when he sees Kenneth, basically doing a full turn as his eyes flicker wildly around, looking for a place to escape. There isn’t one. So, he dives.

  Alec reaches into the water like he’s a country boy gone noodling. He yanks Peter up by the hair, flips the former harem contender onto his back, and starts wading toward me, floating Peter across the top of the water like a bumpy, pink log.

  Victory! Danny and Kenneth throw their arms in the air like they’ve done something. Well … if it’s a group celebration … I join in and stick my arms up. Then I clap for Alec, who rolls his eyes but can’t hold in a little grin.

  I breathe a sigh of satisfaction. One helicopter down. One gangster down. One gambling motherfucker who brought the gangsters here down. My guys and I make a pretty good team. We could be superheroes—well, Alec could, anyway. He tosses Peter up onto the rocks and we surround the trembling man.

  “I already told you, I can’t go back!” Peter blubbers, as soon as he can get words out. All his smooth scheming appears to have sweated out of him in the sauna that is this forest. “They’ll kill me.”

  “Yeah, we know about your gambling problem,” I say.

  “I’m not hurting anyone out here—”

  I hold up a hand and cut Peter off. “That’s where you’re wrong. Your little loan shark buddies are here. With guns. For you.”

  “What!?” Peter’s eye bulge.

  I jerk my head toward Sports Coat, who’s just starting to moan. His eyes still haven’t opened.

  Peter walks over and bends down, looking at the trussed-up gangster. He looks back over at me and shakes his head. “This guy isn’t with the crew I borrowed cash from.”

  It feels like Peter just hit me in the stomach with Danny’s curtain rod. The air rushes out of my lungs. “What?!”

  Chapter Eight

  Heather

  They lock us up in the kitchen. On the hard-as-fuck, tiled floor. And they don’t let us get dressed first. They are first-class, french-fry-for-dick assholes. Those Russian douchebags, with the help of Rubin and Reval, tie us all to the worktable legs.

  “Scared I’ll take your toy away again?” I spit at Suity as he ties me.

  He doesn’t answer. I don’t know if it’s because he doesn’t understand my taunt or doesn’t want to answer. He just moves on. And that dismissal makes me feel powerless, which just sparks my fire even more. I’m gonna break out of here, trap Suity, learn Russian, and then mock him until he’s a sniveling puddle of snot on the floor. Just wait. And I’ll give him a bowl haircut. Bowl! Fucker.

 
I can’t even talk to the other guys at first, because stupid-ass Suity McGunpants keeps watch. We just stare at each other in silence. BJ’s eyes flicker between me and the Russians constantly, like he’s not sure who’s scarier. Andrew stares at a spot in the floor and Jeremiah cranes his neck to look all around the kitchen—who the hell even knows why. I fume. I want to spit fire but these jerkwads can’t even appreciate my insults.

  Blob searches the fridge and pulls out leftovers. The Russians eat while we watch.

  BJ is the first to ask, “Yo, could I get some of that?”

  They turn to look at him.

  He shrugs. “Hey, just an innocent bystander here. I didn’t take your money. Shit. If I could, I’d sign that cash over to you, right now.”

  I glare at him.

  “What?” He stares back, unapologetic. “I would. You should just sign a check and give ‘em what they want so we can all go home.”

  I laugh. “You seriously think they’re gonna let us go home?”

  BJ’s face gets stony and I roll my eyes. God, Katie should have done an IQ test when she screened these guys. Idiots. She gave me idiots. Her face pops into my head for a second, and I’m glad once more that she’s not here. Only, for the first time, I wonder where the fuck she is. Is she seriously sleeping through all this? All day? I shake my head. If that’s the case, if I find out later she’s been sleeping—my default rage sputters. No. I can’t be pissed at her. Not for sleeping, not for anything, really. Katie’s my girl.

  I wish I was a lesbian, not for the first time. If I was, she’d be it for me. Fuck this stupid addiction to dick. That’s what started this whole she-bang. If I didn’t want dick, we wouldn’t have come here for harem tryouts. If we hadn’t come here for harem tryouts, that story wouldn’t have gotten in that online magazine. If that story hadn’t been published, then—I hate Anthony Drake all over again. But there’s a flaw in my logic. Rubin and Reval took a spot in my competition. They were supposed to get the money out of me. So, the Russians have known about me all along.