Joker’s Wild: Vegas Underground, book 5

by Rose, Renee

  “I had this fantasy…” I hear her say in a very small voice. Like she’s telling me a secret, here in the dark. “Back when I worked for your mom. I used to imagine you forcing me to have sex.”

  I somehow manage to not stiffen. She’s talking about a fantasy. It doesn’t mean she believes I would actually force a woman to have sex with me.

  “You get hot for a little violence in the bedroom, doll?”

  She leans her chin on my shoulder. Her bare breasts push against my chest. “I don’t know. Yeah, I guess so. I mean, just a fantasy, right? Of course I would never want to be forced in real life. And any guy who did that—”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I interrupt. I’d rather stick with her fantasies than discuss rape. I pull her hips against mine. Her cunt is still slick with her juices and it rubs over my cock, getting me semi-hard again.

  Her lips find the place where my shoulder meets my neck again. This time I’m sure it’s a kiss or love bite or whatever.

  “I can’t even believe I’m telling you. It’s just that you kinda just made it all come true. In a good way,” she rushes to add. “I don’t mean I really felt forced.”

  My dick lengthens. “Well—” I keep stroking her back, palming her ass, consuming her. “I’m happy to act that fantasy out with you over and over again.” I squeeze both her ass cheeks roughly, lifting and lowering her slowly over my cock. “Let’s just say while you’re in this house, you might be subject to forced fucking any time I feel like it.”

  Her breath catches and she goes still, like she’s thinking it over.

  “We’ll need some kind of signal, I guess,” I suggest. “So I know if you really don’t want it.”

  “You mean like a safe word?” Her warble is small again, and it kinda kills me to hear her that way, because she’s usually so full of confidence.

  “Safe word. Right. I guess so.” I don’t know shit about BDSM, but a safe word makes sense.

  “How about if I say…peanut butter if I want it to stop?”

  I smile. “Peanut butter. Got it. You gonna remember that, doll? If I have you pinned down and nervous?”

  “I’ll remember. Will you?” she demands, her sassy attitude returning.

  “Yep. Did you just agree to be my on-demand pussy for the rest of the time you’re here?”

  She bites my shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark. “No. You just agreed to be my gigolo.”

  I chuckle, stroking her soft skin. I’m not sure when I’ve last smiled or chuckled. But then again, I haven’t had sex like that in...well, maybe ever.

  Even with Gio in critical condition in the next room, the heaviness that usually hangs over my head seems temporarily lifted.

  And I hate to end it, but Gio’s waiting. And I need to get things straightened out with his nurse.

  I ease back so I can see Desiree’s face and catch her jaw in an overhand hold. “Okay, doll. We still have serious shit to talk about.”

  Her eyes widen.

  “Why were you leaving?”

  Desiree sags a bit. “I didn’t leave,” she insists. “I was considering it.”

  I force myself not to smile. It’s so cute how she always argues with me.

  “Okay. Why?”

  She shrugs, a slightly mulish expression settling over her. “I’m not really sure I’m going to walk out of here alive.” She lifts her chin, a direct challenge flashing in her big brown eyes.

  Now it’s my turn to sag. As much as her fear pisses me off, she’s right to worry. She’s gonna be a loose end, and if I were smart, if I were ruthless, I would make sure she didn’t walk out of here and talk.

  “Oh, baby.” I release her jaw and let my grip trail down her throat. It’s not a threat, but she swallows convulsively beneath my hand. “I don’t off innocent women.” I trace her jaw. “Especially not ones who work their asses off to save my brother’s life.” I cup behind her nape and pull her toward me to kiss her neck. “Especially not ones with little freckles on their upturned noses.” I tap her nose. “I promise you’ll walk away from this with the rewards you deserve. I know how to show my appreciation to the people who prove their loyalty. I’m going to take care of you, Desiree.”

  “Aren’t you afraid I’ll talk? I mean, there’s a reason Gio’s not at the hospital, right?”

  Regret washes through me. I wish she wasn’t pressing me on this. “Oh, baby, I have hundreds of ways to keep you from talking, and none of them involve putting you six feet under. But I don’t want to make threats. Not with the taste of you still on my tongue. Not when you just made me come harder than I have in years.”

  I watch the veil of lust drop back down over her face and she writhes over my lap in an intoxicating swivel.

  “So I’m gonna say this, and I’m only gonna say it once. I need you to stay here and take care of Gio. I need you to promise you won’t tell anyone where you are, or who you’re with. Not now or ever. And I need you to know that if you disobey me again, there will be serious consequences. Capiche?”

  Her face goes pale and I detect a little pissed-off in her expression, but mostly she keeps it hidden. She pushes off my lap, and this time, I let her leave. “Yeah, I got it.” Definitely a sullen ring to her voice.

  Well, that’s good. She needs to be scared of me.

  I can’t just fuck her into compliance, as much as I’m gonna try.

  Chapter 4

  Desiree

  I yank on my underclothing and day-old scrubs, wishing I could drop-kick Junior.

  I don’t know what in the hell I was thinking, making a sex arrangement with the man! I am not going through with it. I will definitely be calling peanut butter the first time he tries to lay his hands on me.

  Junior is dangerous. I was stupid to have sex with him once.

  I don’t need to repeat the mistake.

  I go and check on Gio, even though I refreshed his IV and meds before I tried to leave. He’s still okay. No fever. Pulse is in a decent range. He’s sweating a little, and I pull the blankets down to give him some air. I use the bottom sheet to roll him to his side so he doesn’t get bedsores.

  When I’m done, I breeze into Junior’s room like I own the place and open his drawers until I find his t-shirts. He isn’t around—I hear him talking on his phone downstairs. He only has a drawerful of clean white V-necks—not a single color or graphic tee to be found. I grab one, then head into the guest bathroom where I take a shower.

  I make it long and steamy. There’s no razor, but there’s soap and shampoo, so I wash up and then just stand there under the stream of water, like I can wash the last twenty-four hours off me.

  Except it’s not long before I fall into thinking about the amazing sex we just had. It was hot and fantasy-fulfilling, but also more.

  He called me beautiful.

  He rolled with my breakdown—held me, even.

  Some of my sourness drops away. Yes, Junior is infuriating. He’s holding me prisoner here. He took unforgivable liberties with my life when he decided I’d be the best person for this job.

  But he’s not all bad. He can’t be. He loves his brother. He loves his mom.

  He’s a cold-blooded killer, the voice in my head warns.

  True. He practically admitted to it. I don’t make a habit out of offing the innocent. Maybe not, but the guilty? I’m sure he serves them justice in many horrible ways.

  He fixed my car, pushover me argues. He held me when I cried.

  He fucks like a demon.

  Okay, that is not a good enough reason.

  I turn off the water and climb out, drying off with a towel I pulled from the cabinet. I put my clothes back on, except I wear Junior’s t-shirt instead of the top of my scrubs.

  When I come out, masculine voices rumble downstairs. I square my shoulders and play the same game I played as a home healthcare nurse: Act like I run the show around here until everyone gets on board and trusts me enough to let me do my job.

  I search the closets until I find a change of she
ets, which I bring to Gio’s room. Junior changed out the bloody towels, but we still need to change the sheets, which show some bloodstains. I start pulling the corners off the far side, away from Gio.

  “Time to call into work, doll.” Junior stands in the doorway, holding up my phone. He’s showered and dressed, too and looks devastating as ever in a crisp button down and slacks.

  He beckons me over, which annoys the piss out of me, but I come. He hands me the phone. I start to turn away, but he catches my forearm. “Uh uh. Stay right here while you call.”

  I huff and roll my eyes, but my fingers tremble slightly as I take the phone because I know he’s worried about me trying to signal for help. I’m not thinking of trying anything. I do believe he means to let me go when this is all over. And I’m willing to see it through. Doesn’t mean I’m happy about it, or I think what he’s doing is right, but maybe the money I make off this will help me finally find Jasper.

  I call into my department at the hospital and make myself sound miserable. “Hey, Shelly, it’s Desiree Lopez.”

  “Hi, Desiree. You don’t sound so good.”

  “I don’t feel so good.” I force a loud cough. “I woke up this morning with that nasty flu. I can’t come into work today.”

  “Okay, I’ll let them know. Hope you feel better!”

  “Thanks,” I moan and end the call, then lift a defiant gaze to Junior.

  His lips twitch. “Good girl. Now what are you going to do about your mom?”

  I’ve thought about it and I have an idea. “I’m going to text her.”

  He reaches for the phone, like he doesn’t trust me, and I yank it back to my chest, thrusting my lower jaw forward.

  “I need to read it before you hit send,” he warns.

  “Fine.” I type out a text to my mom, telling her I’d called in sick to the hospital, but I really had a home healthcare job that paid twice as much so I was going to take it for the week. I said it involved traveling with a sick patient, so I wouldn’t be around, but I’d check in and call her when I got back.

  I hand it to Junior without sending and he reads it. “Good thinking.”

  “Your highness approves?”

  He hits send and lifts his brows at me. “You really gonna get mouthy with me?”

  I open my lips to ask what happens if I do, but the memory of the punishment he already delivered makes me flush. My nipples tingle and burn at the memory of exactly how punitive he gets.

  The corners of his mouth quirk slightly and I know he’s read my thoughts. He pockets my phone. I scowl.

  “I’m expecting way more than twice as much, you know,” I tell him. “I just had to make it believable for my mom.”

  I watch him closely for a reaction, because this is important to me. I need to know if there really is a sizeable payout involved here. As usual, he shows nothing in his expression, just watches me back.

  “You said enough to buy a new car. What are we talking about? Twenty grand? Thirty?”

  He nods. “Thirty, for sure. More if you earn it.” There’s nothing lewd about the way he says it, but my mind instantly jumps to filthy sex and my body revs up, eager to get busy earning all the riches it can get. “Why you need it?”

  I frown at the intrusive question.

  “I know there’s a story you don’t want me to know.”

  Funny how any possible answer gets stuck in my throat, and I’m caught staring up at him like a trapped animal. “H-how do you know that?” I manage.

  He tips his head to the side. “It’s my business to read people.”

  So he can blackmail them.

  I push that thought out of my head.

  Somehow I recover from the swift pain that always accompanies thinking about Jasper. I fold my arms over my chest. “You’re right. I don’t want you to know.”

  His lips twitch and he taps my nose. “I’ll find out.” His words are mild. It’s not a threat. And yet his certainty, and the certainty that anything in my life he wants to fuck with, he can, sends chills running down my spine.

  I want to snap at him to stay out of it, but I bite my lip. The more emotion I show, the more he’s going to know this is an issue I hold close to my heart.

  It’s not like his knowing would do any harm—it wouldn’t. But this is a subject I can’t bear to talk about, even with my own mom. It fucking slays me. And I’ve already fallen apart once on Junior this morning. I don’t plan on a repeat show today or ever.

  “I had Paolo bring in some food. I wasn’t sure what you like to eat, but there’s plenty down there. Go and help yourself.”

  “After I get this sheet changed. I need you to lift.” I jerk my head in the direction of the bed.

  “Okay, doll.” I swear I detect amusement in Junior’s tone, like he thinks it’s funny I’m bossing him around.

  I know it’s insane, but I can’t help it. Bluster is what I do when I’m nervous.

  I give him instructions on lifting Gio using the existing sheet so I can slip the new one underneath, and I get the thing changed out to my satisfaction. As I walk out with the soiled sheets in my arms, I pass Paolo, who I now realize is another Tacone brother. He watches me as I go, but doesn’t greet me or comment.

  Downstairs, I find a variety of takeout from Starbucks—a steaming latte and egg sandwich, bagels, muffins. There’s also a bag of groceries sitting on the counter that hasn’t been put away.

  I take the liberty of unloading it.

  Four pints of my favorite Ben & Jerry’s. I shove back the appreciation that bubbles up. My past relationships starved me in the gifts department. Someone buying my mint cookie ice cream is no reason to go moony.

  I fix myself a bagel with cream cheese and sit down to eat.

  I can get through this. If we take really good care of the wound, Gio should be stable in a week. Then I’ll get paid a big chunk of money, which I can use to step up the efforts to find Jasper. Find where my asshole ex has holed up with our son.

  I’m doing this for Jasper.

  That thought calms me. Makes it all easy. I can deal with Junior Tacone and all that comes with this job if it means getting my little boy back.

  * * *

  Junior

  “Nico and Stefano are flying in this afternoon,” Paolo says, his focus on Gio, not me.

  “What for?” I bristle.

  “Because he’s our brother!” Paolo spits back.

  “And did you tell Alessia and Ma?” I demand. I already know he didn’t. We Tacones have a code that involves not worrying the women of the family.

  “Of course I didn’t. They don’t need to know. Nico and Stefano are part of business.”

  “Are they?”

  They’re not, really. We’re part of their business, because La Famiglia put up the money to start Nico’s Vegas casino and now we’re all shareholders of the corporation. But Nico hasn’t been part of of our business in over ten years. And this outfit isn’t a fucking democracy. They don’t get to weigh in just on the merit of being my brothers. Neither does Paolo, for that matter. But my tenure as head of the family is by nature rocky, because technically our father is still don, and any one of the fuckers can go run to him if they think I’m fucking things up.

  “Well, they understand business, anyway.” Paolo shoves his hands in his pockets, in a posture of concession.

  I don’t answer.

  “How’s he doing, anyway?”

  “Desiree says he’s stable.”

  “Good.”

  Just saying Desiree’s name has me recalling how luscious she felt under my body this morning. The beautiful sounds she made, the way she gave herself over so completely. I never in a million years dreamed I’d make some woman’s fantasy come true, but knowing I can?

  Is fucking hot.

  And even though I was an ass to her after we talked, I have the strong urge to reward her for giving herself up to me like that. And for being her.

  She appeared this morning, showered and wearing one of my
t-shirts. Didn’t even ask me for permission, just helped herself.

  I don’t know why I fucking love that about her. Maybe because Marne, my ex, is so incapable of doing anything for herself with or without permission.

  But as much as I love knowing she’s wearing my clothes, she’s gonna need her own shit.

  “Listen, you stay here and keep an eye on him, huh? I’m gonna run Desiree to her apartment to pack a bag.”

  Paolo nods. “Sure.”

  “Where did you put her car?”

  “It’s in your garage.”

  “Good. I’ll be back in a couple hours. Call me if anything changes with Gio.”

  “I will.”

  “And call Vlad. We need to arrange a meeting to deal with their fucking setup. As far as I’m concerned, we’re at war. Find out what the word on the street is about the Russians. I want every ear to the ground.”

  Paolo nods, phone already out.

  I jog down the stairs and find my kitchen spotless, Desiree wiping down the inside of the refrigerator. Fuck if it doesn’t get me hard, imagining enacting a scene where she’s my maid and I force her to bend over and take it from her boss. Does she want role play? Or is the mafia kingpin scenario all she needs from me?

  I adjust my junk and clear my throat.

  “Yes?” She doesn’t turn around. She doesn’t jump to attention, or get nervous and babble around me like other females who work for me. This girl is totally different.

  Built from a very special mold.

  “Grab your coat, doll. I’m gonna take you to pack a bag.”

  “Yeah?” Now she turns, shoving her thick brown hair from her face with the back of her wrist, her hands full with the spray bottle and paper towel. “Cool. Just let me finish here.”

  I should tell her no one makes Junior Tacone wait.

  The thing is—I’m sure she knows that, which is precisely why I find it hot that she gives me so much shit. She knows better. I’m an asshole. I’m dangerous as hell, and she still decides to push me. It’s brazen as hell. I love her confidence.