by Karen Renee
HE WITHDREW HIS ARM. Of all the things she could remember about him, his talk of a tattoo surprised the hell out of him.
His mind raced back to something she said. “How does a man clean you out, Combes?”
They were seated side by side. She turned her head fully to him. “If I’m to call you Michael while we’re here. Please. Don’t call me Combes. Can we do that?”
He turned his face to her and the urge to kiss her hit him again. Instead he nodded, grabbing her beer bottle, to feel it was close to empty.
“Want another?” he asked, standing.
She shrugged a shoulder. “Yes, please, seeing as I don’t have to work tonight.”
Fuck. He knew better than to assume she worked every night. Would he be able to stay away from her all night?
He slid the beer across the island to her.
“I can’t recount all the ways a man can clean me out, but in the case of Wycliffe—”
He scoffed. “His name was ‘Wycliffe,’ same as the rapper?”
Her hazel eyes glittered at him. “Yes. And as Suzy already pointed out, repeatedly, that should’ve been my first clue. Especially since he was white.”
He chuckled. “Sorry to interrupt. Please, carry on.”
“In his case, he started off slow. Pilfering cash from my wallet. Not that I often carried cash, which was why I didn’t always notice it going missing.”
“Run that by me again?”
“I’d grab my wallet thinking there should be a ten in it, but there’d be a one-dollar bill. I’d chalk it up to not remembering the last time I spent any cash, you know?”
“Not really, but I’ll go with it for now.”
“Yeah, then my debit card was gone.”
“You didn’t report it stolen?”
Her lips flattened and he knew she wanted to stop talking about it. Yet, she kept on.
“No. He offered to look through my purse for me, one last time, just to be sure.”
“That’s a red flag, woman.”
She gave him a sidelong look. “Thank you, Suzy junior. He would come up with my card and tell me it was buried at the bottom of the bag or slipped into a side pocket.”
Har nodded.
“Yeah, so turns out he’d gotten my PIN and would drain my account every so often.”
“How did you not know this shit? Don’t you keep up with your balance?”
“We were living together. He was ‘balancing the books,’” she said, raising her hands to do air quotes.
He turned his head so she wouldn’t see his outraged expression.
“Yeah, I know that was yet another red flag. Believe me, in hindsight the flags and signs were so prevalent I could’ve directed traffic.”
His head twisted back to her. “No. Were you in love with him? I mean, you wouldn’t let just any man balance your books, right? You loved him?”
Her face fell and she turned away. “Yeah. That’s what makes it so fucking awful.”
He reached out to turn her head back to him, but he stopped himself and put his hand on her shoulder. “No. It’s what makes that asshole a fucking scumbag.”
She looked at him. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, but thank you.”
“So, he skimmed your money, bit by bit?”
“Yeah, but he also took out lines of credit in my name.”
His eyes widened. “How the fuck did he do that?”
Her eyes closed as she shook her head for a moment. “He got my social security card. Even now, I have no idea how the fuck he pulled that shit off. But, what’s done is done. So, I got debt to pay off and that brings me to your fine city. I’d have moved to Vegas, but I thought I’d see if I do well here before heading further west.”
She’s not moving west.
Where did that thought come from, and why? Where she lived shouldn’t matter to him, but it did.
“Why didn’t the cops or the credit card companies wipe it clean? If you didn’t actually take out the cards or charge the shit, I thought they protected people against that?”
“I got most of the credit card debit cleared. When things went south, I had issues making rent and the landlord wasn’t lenient about that. If you’ve never fallen behind, you have no idea how hard it is to get back to even. Getting ahead seems like a mirage or some myth to people like me.”
“He fucked you two ways,” he muttered.
Her hazel eyes widened at him as she stared at him. “Seriously, Michael Walcott?”
“Am I wrong?”
She sighed. “No, but that’s not the point.”
Every word out of her mouth did something to him. Other women shared their sad stories and it was just another woman’s story. Hearing what this asshole did, he wanted to hunt the fucker down and make him pay her back.
He couldn’t get wrapped up in her problems.
Why couldn’t she be like other women he’d been around?
Any other woman, he could fuck her until the sun came up, making sure they both got off. Then he’d just send her on her way.
The idea of sending Stephie on her way left a sour taste in his mouth.
“Don’t you want to know the point?” she asked, jarring him.
That sounded like a trick question. He’d learned that lesson from both his mother and his sister. “Sure. What’s the point?”
“The point is, I’ve learned to never, ever trust another damn man in my life. I’m gonna conquer that mountain of debt, and I’ll do it on my own.”
He gave a curt nod because he didn’t trust himself. None of that sounded good to him. She shouldn’t have to conquer jack-shit that fucker laid at her doorstep.
He grabbed their plates and put them in the dishwasher. “There’s a recycling bin in the garage. You mind taking the dead soldiers out there? I’m gonna grab a quick shower and head to the clubhouse.”
She nodded and he went to his bathroom. His dick had been hard from the moment she called him by his first and last names, and that was when knew he needed to get off. The shower would cover part one of his plan, and with any luck there would be fresh pussy at the clubhouse to take care of part two of his plan.
Maybe fucking someone else would help him work her out of his system.
Chapter 7
Always Pay the Price
Stephanie
FOR THE PAST TWO WEEKS, I had been staying with Har. Brute hadn’t been kidding. Har’s place was like staying at the Taj Majal compared to my efficiency.
The landlord hadn’t returned any of my calls that Sunday, but when he called on Monday, Har happened to hear me arguing with the man. When the landlord hung up, Har took my phone so he could see the number. Then he called the landlord from his phone.
“Yeah, you aren’t charging Ms. Combes for any of the damage to that unit. You owe her for damage to her property, but she’s letting it slide. You push this, you’re gonna get a visit from the fire inspector and code enforcement.”
Late the next afternoon, Har told me to check my bank balance, and my security deposit had been returned to me. When I went to thank him, I heard his bike roar out of the garage.
I hadn’t seen him since. Not that I expected to see him every day.
Still.
I was starting to think he was avoiding me.
It was a Friday night, and on occasion groups of players would come to the poker room wanting a table for just themselves. For a fee, guests can have nearly anything at a casino, so bachelor parties would pay extra for all nine or ten guys to play together.
Tonight, a bachelorette party had paid for a separate table, and I was dealing to them. There were nine of them, and the floor director instructed me that if one of them left the table or lost her chips, I was to indicate I had a seat open on the electronic device which communicated to the front counter. Their privacy only went so far.
All of them were drinking, but I noticed a couple of them were well on their way to blotto. The bachelorette raised after a flop, and one of the very tipsy girls called her.
A Jack of spades came on the turn, and after the bachelorette checked, her opponent shoved all her chips in.
I put the All-In marker on the table for the camera above the table, and waited for a decision from the bachelorette.
“You’re just trying to get away from the table aren’t you, Amy?”
Amy giggled more than necessary. “No... I would never do something like that.”
“Bitch, you lie,” a red-head sitting next to her muttered.
The bachelorette called and won the pot.
“I’ll be at the bar, bitches.”
I pressed the open seat button while watching Amy meander to a small bar adjacent to the cashier counter. A few men were milling about awaiting table assignments.
“Well, that didn’t take long,” the redhead said.
I shifted the small and big blind buttons, collected the cards, and switched them out with a new deck from the in-table card shuffler.
A couple of hands went by, but the redhead’s eyes kept straying to the bar keeping an eye on Amy.
“Is she crazy?” the bachelorette asked the redhead.
The red-head’s expression shifted to assessing. “I don’t think so. That guy’s hot.”
The bachelorette made big eyes at her. “But he’s a biker.”
I glanced over my shoulder to see Amy flirting with Brute, and I grinned.
“He's fine. You got nothing to worry about, he's my former stepbrother.”
I looked up realizing I probably shouldn’t have said anything, plus where there was Brute, Har was often close by too. My expression shifted and the redhead picked up on it.
“What's wrong?”
I grinned. “Nothing. You’re small blind.”
After another hand, I felt a tap on my shoulder and Charlie Huntley stood to my left to relieve me. I tapped my tip box, wished the ladies luck, and moved on to another table. On my way to the next table, I saw Brute smiling at Amy. He seemed to be here alone, so maybe Har wasn’t around. I shook my head at myself.
I had to stop thinking about him.
To my surprise, I found myself back at the bachelorette table ninety minutes later. All eight of them were still there.
Joining each table was a lot like dropping in on a new party. Conversations were happening or people would circle back to prior conversations and I’d have no idea what they were talking about. This happened as I settled at the table.
The redhead was talking to one of the other women. “We’re talking about Snickers here, Mia! It’s like any good dick, it has to be thick.”
I bit my tongue to keep from laughing, but even though she hadn’t looked at me, the red-head cried out, “See! Even the dealer knows I’m right because she’s laughing.”
I straightened my face and shook my head.
Her blue eyes narrowed. “You can’t deny it!”
With my most sober expression, I said, “No, I found the rhyme scheme funny. Snickers, dick, thick.”
“You’re lying! And you were lying earlier when your face paled when Amy saw your stepbrother.”
I nodded because as they say, the customer is always right. “You caught me, but that was because I figured his buddy is probably here too.”
Her eyes lit. “Yeah, so? Is he hot?”
“Criminally,” I blurted.
She grinned. “Now I want to see this guy. He play poker? Is he here?”
I shook my head. “Didn’t see him. But, yeah, he plays poker.”
“He any good?”
I grinned. “He’s exceptional. Except he sucks out.”
A devious grin hit her lips. “On the river, or on you?”
I felt my cheeks heat with embarrassment. “The former. I wouldn’t know about the latter.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw masculine hands set a plastic tray of chips on the table at the empty nine-seat position.
“Oh, I do both Stephanie. Don’t you worry about that,” Har said as he sat down.
Red shot him a sultry look. “Well, damn. Who are you? Do you dance? Because you look ten times better than those cardboard cut-outs for the male review.”
When he chuckled, I couldn’t help but glance up, to see his eyes twinkling at the woman.
Bastard.
I took a deep breath to get rid of that thought. I normally didn’t do jealousy because it was never pretty.
My thirty minutes dealing at that table felt like an eternity. When Charlie tapped my shoulder he said, “Hey, Har.”
Har gave him a chin lift, but Red stared at him.
“What kind of name is Har?”
His eyes cut to her, and it was the first bit of frostiness he showed her. “Mine. That’s what kind of name it is.”
I grabbed my tip container and left the table before I heard her retort.
MY SHIFT ENDED AT ELEVEN, and I was back at Har’s place by quarter to midnight.
I scarfed down some cheese and crackers before I took a shower. I had a busy day planned for tomorrow. There were three apartment complexes I planned to tour, my bike needed an oil change, and after that I would hit the grocery store and be back here to prep a week’s worth of meals.
With my hair wrapped up in a towel and wearing my favorite pajamas, I padded to my room with dirty clothes in hand. After I dumped the clothes, I unwrapped my hair and draped the towel on a hook behind the door.
When I pulled the door open again, Har stood there. “You seriously need a new set of pajamas, Combes.”
“Listen, Har, if you want me to call you Michael, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me by my last name.”
He gave a small nod. “I’d like to teach you about the latter.”
His words made no sense. “What are you talking about? ‘The latter,’ or did you say ‘the ladder?’ Because I don’t think I need to learn about either.”
He shook his head and mischief lit his green eyes. “You said it was the former and you didn’t know about the latter. I want to show you how good I am at sucking out on you.”
My mouth went dry, which helped me keep it closed even as my jaw threatened to go slack.
“Look on your face tells me that idea interests you. No ties, no feelings, no dates, just sex, Stephanie.”
“Why?” I whispered.
He did a half-shrug and for some reason it irritated me.
“Is this just like that damn kiss? Because you ‘feel like it?’ That’s the difference between you and me, Har. I go after something because I feel like it, I always pay the price.”
His jaw shifted to the side for a beat. “No price to pay here, Combes.”
I scoffed. “Not for you, sure. But you have no idea how grateful I am to be here. With any luck, I’ll have a deposit for a better place by the end of the month, but until—”
“You aren’t leaving.”
My eyes widened. “I’m not? What the hell? Is this your idea of rent?”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them.
Anger filled his eyes. “No, it fuckin’ is not. I wanted to get inside your pants the moment Jenkins pointed out my poker table that first night. When your ceiling caved-in, I hated the idea of you goin’ back to the clubhouse, and I have more than enough space for you to be here. Thought I could control myself, but I can’t stop thinking about you being twenty feet away. The way you look at me says you’re battling similar issues. We need to work each other out of our systems.”
I laughed. “You make it sound like it’s just that damn simple.”
“Why shouldn’t it be? And you don’t need to be in an all-fire hurry to leave.”
“Of course not; I don’t leave, then I’m around whenever you’ve got an itch to scratch. Sorry, but that isn’t happening, Har.”
“You deny you want me?”
“Like I said, I always pay the price.”
“How would you? This would be so simple.”
I closed my eyes. How could men propose things like this?
I opened my eyes. “It wouldn’t
be so simple. Not on my end. So, thanks but no thanks, Michael. Good night.”
Har
YOU BUNGLED THAT, Har thought as he went back to his bedroom.
Why wouldn’t sex be simple between them? Deep down he knew better with a woman like Stephanie. She didn’t seem like the high-maintenance type, but her words said otherwise.
He growled his frustration and hit his bathroom. Part of him wanted to hit the clubhouse, but he’d tried that four times over the last ten days. He couldn’t scratch the itch, and he found it strange Stephanie would use that same term to describe it. She was definitely an itch for him.
Under the shower spray, he grabbed his body wash and squirted some in his right hand. He willed himself to not jerk off. It would be the second time he’d done it today. As he rubbed the soap into his chest, visions of Stephanie in the shower with him assaulted his brain. She had looked so good with her damp hair and those useless pajamas she wore. She might as well traipse around nude, for fuck’s sake.
That thought sent his hand gliding down to his cock. He gripped himself firmly and tugged. His head tilted back, and he envisioned the many ways he would take her. The kitchen was definitely in the top three places he’d have her. By the fireplace in the living room could work, but that would have to wait until the weather changed. He pictured her on top of him, reverse-cowgirl, and his speed picked up while his grip tightened.
Maybe he should have pictured the ways he’d fuck Stephie while he was with the sweet-butts last week, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that to them or himself. If he was with a woman, he believed he should be with that woman.
Those thoughts nearly made him lose focus, but he could see Stephie with him in his bed and his orgasm came stronger and faster than any before.
He had that rare moment of complete clarity that came with busting a nut, and he knew he’d have to put some effort into convincing Stephie what was good for both of them.
Five minutes later, he turned off the water and dried off. He toweled his hair, and left it hanging damp around his shoulders. It needed to be cut, but he never had time for that shit.
For once, he had a Saturday where he didn’t have to work on anything in the shop. He had no idea what he would do with the day, but it would be the perfect opportunity to start wearing Stephanie down.