Screwed In Sin City

by Cass Kincaid

  I’m a dancer in Las Vegas, yeah, but I do have standards. Cheating is not my style.

  Unfortunately, Josie’s making it really fucking hard to find her. Her phone’s turned off, every call going straight to her voicemail. I even drove over to the resort she and I had stayed in the other night. She’s already checked out, and the front desk receptionist wouldn’t give me any other information.

  I swear to God, I’m not usually a violent man, but, screw it, when I get my hands on Chance, I’m going to beat him within an inch of his life. Damn him and disregard for common fucking sense.

  I’d had to take the stage with the rest of the group a few hours ago, despite wanting to do nothing more than go after Josie, find her, and explain everything. But, I had a contract to fulfill, and the reasons for me being able to miss a scheduled show were limited, and they certainly didn’t include tearing through the city in search of a woman who hates my guts. Getting slapped with a lawsuit for breech of contract wouldn’t help anyone.

  Doing the show had cost me precious time. It’d also given Josie ample time to pack her stuff up and disappear. Chances are, she’s with one of her girlfriends at one of the hotels on the Strip. There’s an even better chance that she and those women are cursing me a blue streak, calling me every name in the book and telling Josie that it’s my loss, not hers.

  That doesn’t mean I’m not going to burn this city down in search of her.

  I slam my fist into the column that holds the concrete awning up outside the hotel’s main entrance. I’ve never been so frustrated in my entire life. I’ve also never felt so fucking useless.

  I talk a mean game, but the fact of the matter is that Sin City is a big goddamn place. An overcrowded place. Josie’s a needle in a haystack here, and I’m running out of time. Christ, she leaves to go back home tomorrow.

  I’m still hissing under my breath at the sting of my banged-up knuckles when I realize what my best chance is.

  Maybe I won’t have to turn this city upside down, after all.

  Maybe, just maybe, Josie will come to me, instead of me having to come to her. I just have to be in the right place at the right time.

  With a renewed sense of hope, I pull out my phone and start dialing.

  11

  Josie

  This trip was supposed to be fun. A chance for me to get out of my shell a bit and spend a little time with my friends before everything changed now that we’d closed the chapter on our college lives.

  Well, one thing’s for sure. Everything’s definitely changed. The jury’s still out on whether it’s for the better or worse.

  After that shirtless dancer backstage told me about Derek’s secret family, I went back to my hotel room, packed my things, and got the hell out of there. I didn’t need Derek finding out I’d been there, then showing up and pouring salt in the wound he’d left on my pride.

  And my heart. Damn it, I hated that he’d managed to worm his way into having me give a damn about him. Having me think that maybe he was different, that maybe he really was interested in more than just one sinful night in Vegas.

  I hated it then, and I despise it now. But that doesn’t mean it hurts any less.

  It was a crushing blow to my pride to have to show up at Beth’s hotel room, too. She’d been a good friend and not mentioned my indiscretions to anyone else, just like she’d promised, but the moment the tears started to fall, much to the rest of my friends’ dismay, there was no hiding what had happened. I told them all everything—beginning with the moment I realized the sexy guy at the pool was actually Sexy-Dance Derek, to the moment I fled from the Excalibur only hours ago after finding out just how horrible my decisions have really been.

  Beth and my friends tried to hide it as best they could, but it was written on their faces. They weren’t just shocked, they were floored. In all the years we’d gone to school together, not once had I done anything that would be considered outlandish, let alone risky. If bets had been placed as to which of us would do something that happened in Vegas and needed to stay the fuck in Vegas, I can guarantee I’d have been at the bottom of that list. I wasn’t a gambler or a risk-taker.

  And now I know why. Because I’m horrible at it.

  Nausea rolls around in my stomach again at the thought that there’s a woman out there somewhere who doesn’t know what her husband did with me a few nights ago. I’m disgusted by the mere mental image of Derek.

  “This is your stop, ma’am.”

  The cab driver’s voice cuts through my muddled thoughts. I glance out the window. Jesus, I’d been stuck in my head for the entire trip to the airport. The driver must think I’m a total snob.

  I pay him, offering him the biggest sincere smile I can muster, but it must not reach my eyes because he just nods when he takes the bills from my hand.

  “You have a good day now,” he says in an sympathetic tone. He’s already shifting the car into drive as I pull my luggage out of the backseat and slam the door.

  Too late for that, I think as I wheel my luggage through the sliding doors into the airport.

  I’m leaving Las Vegas to escape it now, something I’ve never done before. Hell, I changed my ticket to a flight leaving two hours before the one I was originally supposed to be on, just because I couldn’t stand to stay in this godforsaken city any longer. I’ve never been one to run from anything. Then again, I’ve never done anything so shameful that I’ve had to run from it.

  First time for everything.

  I glance up at the signs suspended from the ceiling. I’ve got more than enough time to make it through the security line, and I relish the thought that I’ll have time to grab a coffee and just sit in peace for a bit before boarding the plane. I could do with a little bit of peace.

  I begin to follow the arrows that direct me toward the airport security, not even bothering to glance around. There’s nothing within the city limits that I care to see anymore. The sooner I can get the hell out of here and back to the mundane, safe routine of my life in Ohio, the better.

  “Josie!”

  I don’t see him, but his voice stops me in my tracks. Don’t turn around, I think to myself.

  “Josie.” His voice is closer now, just behind me.

  I draw myself up, hoping to evoke some semblance of defiance, and turn around. Unfortunately, the moment my eyes meet his, all the air is knocked out of my lungs. For a moment, I can’t bring myself to speak, too afraid the words will come out shaky. Then, “You should be ashamed of yourself.” The venom in my tone surprises us both.

  Derek stands in front of me, and my low voice seems to steady him a bit. He lets out a long breath, obviously relieved that I’m not screaming at him and making a scene. “You’re right,” he agrees, nodding. “But not for the reasons you think.”

  A hollow scoffing sound emits from my throat, and I’m gripping the handle of my luggage so hard my knuckles are white. “You used me to cheat on your—”

  “Wife?” He says the words with the slightest hint of amusement, but it’s a dark humor, and it’s enough to make me stay silent, letting him continue. “Josie, I don’t have a wife.”

  My eyes narrow. “Your friend backstage told me—”

  “I know what he told you,” he snaps. He takes another breath, levelling the edge in his voice. “Chance has always called Rhonda my wife,” he explains in a low voice. “Or wifey, as he puts it. Even though she isn’t anything of the sort, and never will be.”

  So, there is a woman, they’re just not married. “And does Rhonda know you have no intentions of ever marrying her? Or that you screw other random women on the side?”

  Derek’s jaw clenches.

  Good. I’m glad I’m not the only one struggling to keep my cool.

  “Yes, Rhonda is well aware we won’t be getting married,” he says evenly. “But I kind of resent the fact that you think I sleep with random women, because I don’t.”

  “Just Rhonda?” I bite out. “And me?” An angry chuckle sounds, and I real
ize it’s my own. “It’s so nice to know that Rhonda and I mean that much to you.”

  I can’t take it anymore. I whip around, intending to head down the wide hallway toward the escalators.

  Derek’s fingers clamp around my upper arm, and he side-steps to get in front of me before I have a chance to yell at him for putting his hands on me. “Rhonda’s not my girlfriend, Josie!”

  I pull free of his grasp, staring at him with blazing eyes. “Then who is she, Derek? Because she comes and sees you before shows, and she’s important enough that you didn’t want to fucking tell me about her!”

  There’s the anger, finally flooding out of me. I don’t even care about the fleeting glances we’re getting as people pass by us.

  Derek pauses, but his eyes never leave mine. “Rhonda’s not my girlfriend, Josie,” he repeats coolly. “She’s my son’s mother.”

  Whatever explanation I expect from him, it isn’t that, and I can feel my eyes widening as his confession sinks in. “Your son’s...mother?”

  A loud breath escapes from Derek’s lungs, and he runs his hands through his hair, evidently relieved that I’m listening to him. “Josie…” He squeezes his eyes shut, and the vein in his neck twitches under the colorful tattoo that covers it. Then, he takes a tentative step to the side, waving his arm out toward the series of chairs about fifteen feet from where we stand. “I’d like you to meet Daniel.”

  A little boy with shaggy chestnut hair sits in one of the chairs at the end of the row, kicking his feet idly. His gaze is set firmly on Derek and I, and even from here I can see the obvious physical resemblance between the two of them. “You have a son.”

  He nods. “I do.” His eyes are fixed firmly on the boy now. “And I’d feel a whole lot better if we were a little bit closer to him. I had to run to catch up to you, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to explain everything to you, while sitting closer to him.”

  I’m dumbfounded by the entire thing. I understand parts, but not others. I think the only reason I nod in agreement and let him lead me toward the chairs is because I can’t comprehend anything else at the moment.

  Daniel can’t be more than three or four. “Hi,” he says with an inquisitive stare, watching me intently as I sit down.

  “Hello, Daniel.”

  Derek sits down beside his son, which forces me to sit on Derek’s other side, putting him between me and the little boy. An awkward silence looms over us, and I pull my luggage closer to me.

  “I don’t understand,” I admit freely. “What’s your son have to do with you leaving me so abruptly the other night? You’re going to have to give me a little more to go on, Derek.”

  “Everything,” Derek blurts out, tucking the boy under his arm, who’s now fully engrossed in the toy motorcycle he’s pulled from his jacket pocket. “Daniel is my reason for pretty much everything I do, Josie. That’s the point.”

  “And he should be,” I reply without hesitation. “But, are you really trying to tell me you made me feel cheap and used in the name of your son?” It’s a low blow, but my defenses are high and my ego still bruised.

  “Yes,” he breathes out. “Well, kind of. No. Just let me explain.”

  “I’m listening.”

  Derek turns and gives the boy an affectionate pat on the head, before turning back to me and lowering his voice. It’s a conversation meant only for us. “Rhonda and I were together for only a short time,” he explains. “I’ll never call it a mistake—never—but Daniel was born a few months after we’d already gone our separate ways. It was a mutual split, and I’m lucky enough that she and I are both very much involved in Daniel’s upbringing. I think we get along better now than we ever did as a couple.”

  The hint of a wry grin forms on his mouth, but it disappears almost immediately when he realizes I have no intention of smiling back. I’m still listening intently, trying to understand.

  “Daniel’s with me every second week,” he continues after clearing his throat. “We didn’t need the court system to decide on a custody schedule; we just worked it out ourselves. We both work around that schedule, and I’m only on the roster for Thunder And Lightning during the weeks I don’t have Daniel with me. Sometimes, though, Rhonda’s in the city when I am, and so I make sure she comes by the venue so I can see my little man.” As an afterthought, he adds, “In the lounge area backstage, where everyone has their clothes on. Completely kid friendly, I swear.”

  That makes me smile crookedly. A faint crack in the foundation of my anger. “So, he wasn’t staying with you this past week.”

  “Right.” He nods. “And sometimes, if I know I have consecutive shows on consecutive nights in the city, I’ll just book a room somewhere away from the Strip instead of going home to my place.”

  “Which is how you ended up at the Bermuda.”

  “Exactly. I prefer to keep the craziness limited to only during showtimes. The hotels and resorts off the Strip are more appealing to me, quieter, less populated.”

  My brain is struggling to catch up, and I squint my eyes, running my finger through my hair again. “Well, that explains why you were there,” I mutter. “Now, tell me why you left.”

  Derek’s throat moves visibly. “It was Rhonda on the phone that night,” he states simply. His eyes are apologetic. “I call Daniel every day, usually multiple times each day, and at bedtime, no matter what.” His eyes lock on mine. “Until the night I was with you.”

  A wave of guilt washes through me, like I’ve done something wrong. My rational brain knows I haven’t, but the idea that this little boy didn’t hear from his father because I was taking up his time makes my heart constrict.

  “He had a bad dream,” Derek continued in a whisper, not wanting Daniel to hear him. “Rhonda called me, seeing as I was the only one he was wailing for.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me, Derek?” When I think of all the hurt feelings and drama we could’ve avoided, I have an overwhelming feeling to slap him.

  “Like I told you before, everything I do revolves around Daniel.” He says it like that should explain everything. When I’m still looking at him, just as clueless as before, he sighs. “I keep my son out of the nightlife of Las Vegas as much as possible. The revolving-door lifestyle and fakeness of it all is something I don’t think he needs to see.”

  “Revolving door, huh?” I arch a brow.

  Derek must realize what his statement implies. “I don’t mean me, Josie. I’ve dated a little in the years since Rhonda and I split up, but nothing serious. And I’m not the one-night-stand kind of guy you seem to think I am.”

  I catch the edge in his voice, but bite down on my bottom lip to keep from offering up a snippy comment.

  “I don’t tell everyone I meet about him immediately. That was nothing personal against you,” he insists quickly. “I just prefer to keep him safe.”

  “I can’t and won’t fault you for that.” My eyes roam to where the little boy is rolling the toy motorcycle along the back of the chair beside him. “But, like I said before, you could’ve told me.”

  “I’m overprotective of him, I know.” He turns to watch the boy, too. “Maybe too much. But he’s all I’ve got. All I’ve had for a few years now. And I didn’t mind keeping it that way…” He turns his gaze back to me, and his eyes are smoldering with a newfound heat. “Until the night you showed up.”

  For a moment I don’t say anything, content to bask in the fire of his eyes. “I should be furious with you, you know.” It’s the best reprimand I can come up with considering the stare he’s got fixed on me.

  “Perhaps,” he agrees with a nod. “But I didn’t plan on meeting you at the show, and I certainly didn’t plan on seeing you the next morning at the pool of that hotel.”

  “You could’ve knocked me over with a feather when I recognized you,” I admit.

  “I’m still sorry about getting your book all wet,” he chuckles wryly.

  “You should be.” I’m grinning now.

  “You took
me by surprise, Josie.” Derek’s words come with a renewed urgency. “I need you to realize that. I was so caught up in you that night in your hotel room, so overwhelmed with how amazing we were together...when Rhonda called about Daniel, it crashed me back down to reality, and I panicked. Plain and simple.”

  “You...panicked.” His admission is heartfelt, but I’m still reeling from the information overload and breakneck turn of events. “You spent a few very intimate—very passionate—hours with me, then...panicked?”

  “I couldn’t see how both worlds—the intimate one I was hidden in with you, and the real and protective one I’d already been a part of with Daniel—could ever collide.”

  I can suddenly feel the blood rushing in my ears, irrationally afraid of what might be coming next. “And now?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

  “Now,” Derek whispers back. “Now, I can’t see how both worlds could ever not come together to become something more.” He reaches out for my hands, turning them in his before raising them to his lips and kissing the backs of them gently. “I made a mistake by shutting you out, Josie. I tried to protect my son, but in the end I only hurt you.”

  I lean forward, at the same moment he does, and our foreheads press together. “Hurting me isn’t the only thing you accomplished, you know.”

  “Oh yeah?” I can see his eyes flitting down to my mouth. Mine are watching his lips just as intently. “What else did I accomplish, or should I be afraid to ask?”

  “You made me want you,” I confess on a sigh. “When I’d sworn off wanting anyone ever again.”

  “And now? Does the truth change that?”

  I swallow, breathing in slowly before speaking. “I think I want you even more,” I whisper.

  A sexy, devilish grins forms on his mouth. “Give me a little more time, Josie. We’ll see what other kinds of things I can make you want.”

  “That almost sounds like some kind of sexy, sinful threat,” I joke.

  Derek presses his lips gently to mine. Then, “I don’t make threats. I make promises.”