by Alexa Wilder
Her job was to play the game so we could talk to Feliks and then leave. My job was to keep her safe. Thinking with my dick was not going to keep her safe. I could imagine all the ways I was going to fuck her later. Resolved, I kept my eyes off her lush body and kept them on the room.
The other men stayed back. They must have sensed that I was on a hair trigger. It was early, and the crowd wasn’t drunk enough to ignore their danger. Or they were struck dumb by the beauty of Chloe running a pool table. She missed her fourth shot after leaning over at a side angle that sent her shirt sliding off one smooth, golden shoulder.
I swore again silently, trying to watch the room without registering the hungry eyes of her observers. Feliks sank two balls and missed a third, but she got her fifth and a very tricky bank shot on the sixth before the Russian got his turn again. The sight of her was murder. Those spike heels, her curvy legs, her perfect round ass. When she planted her feet and spread her legs to shoulder width as she bent over to shoot, I shuddered. I was in hell and she had no idea what she was doing.
Finally, after Feliks sank one more and missed the next, Chloe finished the game, sinking the eight ball on a bank shot that was so precise and cleanly executed I almost wanted to cry.
When the game was done there were a few calls for next game, but Chloe cut them off herself, sending the room her shy smile and saying, “Sorry, that was a one-time thing. But thanks.”
Only Chloe could send a bunch of rough guys off with little more than a smile. I think they were all so confused by what a girl like her was doing there in the first place, no one thought to push her. That or they were very sure I’d shoot them if they did. The sweet drained from her face as she turned to pin Feliks to the wall with a glare of her own.
“Okay. We played. Now tell me where my brother is,” she demanded.
“Hey, hey,” Feliks said, backing up a few steps and raising his hands in front of him. “Keep your voice quiet. I don’t want to talk to the whole room.”
“Fine,” she said in a lower tone. “Where is Nolan?”
“I don’t know where Nolan is. I can only tell you what he’s been doing.”
“And?” I cut in, getting pissed at this guy. He’d gotten what he’d wanted. Now it was Chloe’s turn. “Spill it so we can go.”
Ignoring me, Feliks looked at Chloe and said “you brother, he used to play some pool with me. I found out what he did, and I hooked him up with my cousin for some work.”
“What kind of work?” Chloe asked. Feliks shrugged and mimed typing on a keyboard.
“Hacking stuff,” he said. “I don’t know what it was. Sergey put him to work.”
“Sergey?” I asked, my gut turning to lead. What were the odds this was another Sergey? I’d never been a big believer in coincidence. Feliks’s eyes sharpened on my face and I realized that most of his attitude had been an act. He was far sharper than he looked. In a voice so quiet I had to strain to hear, he said,
“Her brother is smart. And not so smart. Like the sister. She should stay home and let the brother find himself. Lot of people looking for him. All bad. Word is, he stole from my cousin.”
“Did he?” I asked. Feliks shrugged as if he didn’t care or didn’t know. “Sergey looking for him, too. A pretty woman should stay home. Out of the way.”
He raised his grizzled eyebrows, asking me if I understood. I did. We were getting the fuck out of there, and I was going to do my best to convince Chloe to leave the rest of this in Axel’s hands. If Nolan was working for Tsepov, I wanted Chloe nowhere near him.
13
Chloe
Sam’s jaw was tight as he drove back to his house. He looked pissed off and I couldn’t tell if he was mad at me, Nolan, both of us, or the whole situation. Probably the last. I wanted to tell him he didn’t have to worry about it, that I appreciated his help, but I could handle this on my own. I wasn’t stupid. I could imagine what might have happened if I’d walked into Balls and Sticks alone. I needed Sam’s help.
“Who is Sergey?” I asked, needing to know. Sam had reacted to the name as if it had meant something to him.
“I’m guessing it’s Tsepov.”
“The Russian mob guy? The one with the poker room where Tim said Nolan was playing?”
“Yes.” Sam flicked his eyes to me. In the dark, they gleamed a hard, deep blue. “And no. You are not going anywhere near that poker room or Tsepov. I’ll call Axel when I get home and see what he’s got. But you’re staying out of this.”
“Sam, I think-” He cut me off before I could say anything else.
“No. Just no. I get that you need to help find your brother. But if Nolan loves you anywhere near as much as you love him, do you really think he wants you getting tangled up with the Russian mob?”
“No,” I said. Then, in a small voice, I admitted, “If he was really thinking of me at all, he wouldn’t have gotten involved with them, either.”
Sam took my hand and squeezed. It was no more than he’d been trying to point out for a while. Nolan lived with me. If he’d been across town, or in another city, things would have been different. But when we shared an address, anything he brought home was tied to me. He’d put me in danger. And for what? Why? With a sigh, I looked out the window and let my thoughts drift. I wanted a break, just for a little while. I didn’t want to think about Nolan. I didn’t want to worry.
Sam parked the car in the garage and came around to help me out. Like he had the day before, instead of giving me his hand, he slid his arm around my back and lifted me out, pressing my body into his. At the impact of his hard chest, my nipples beaded into points and I let out a tiny gasp. I wasn’t a small woman, but Sam was so big next to me, tall and all muscle.
I tried not to whimper as he lowered me, scraping my nipples against his chest, the impact barely dulled by our clothes. Just before my feet touched the concrete, he swore and lifted me again, raising me to waist height. My legs instinctively locked around his waist in a tight clasp, holding him to my body.
With a groan, he pressed me into the side of his truck as his mouth came down on mine. My sensible side was nowhere to be found. I opened for him, my lips warming under his, my tongue reaching into his mouth. His kiss stole my breath away as I fell into it, sinking my hands into his hair and gripping tight to keep him exactly where he was.
Sam’s hips pinned me to the side of the truck, and I felt the hard length of his cock pressing through layers of denim to tease me. I couldn’t help but rock my hips into the delicious friction. When his hand snaked under my shirt to splay across my back, I shivered from the heat and strength in his fingers. A twist of those fingers on the clasp of my bra and the band fell loose.
He didn’t hesitate in leaning me forward to get to my breasts, and I was too far gone to stop him. His hands now more frantic than practiced, he leaned me back into the truck and pushed my shirt up, dragging my bra with it, until my breasts were exposed in the dimly lit garage.
“Fuck, Chloe. I swear you’re the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen,” he groaned. I might have doubted him, but the look in his eyes, the hunger and rapt devotion convinced me that, whatever I thought, Sam loved my breasts. Before I could think about what he was doing, he dropped his mouth to one nipple and sucked.
My head fell back with the shock of hot pleasure, thunking against the truck’s frame. I moaned and arched my back, offering him more. With the press of his hips and the clasp of my legs holding me up, Sam had both hands free, and he used them. Strong fingers closed over my breast, plumping it, feeding my nipple into his mouth as he sucked harder, then shifted his head to feast on the other side.
I rocked against him, the pressure between my legs sending me higher, flooding my body with more pleasure than I’d ever felt from a man, more than I’d dreamed in those times I’d slid my own fingers between my legs and imagined what it would be like with Sam.
“Sam,” I moaned, as his fingers closed over one nipple and he tongued the other. “Sam, please. Please.”
I didn’t even know what I was asking for. Not really. But the promise of his mouth on my breasts was shredding my intentions. All my protests about a relationship with Sam had drifted away, dispersed by this dizzying pleasure and the reality of being touched, not by a man, but by Sam.
Who knows how far it would have gone if his phone hadn’t begun to ring. At first we ignored it, too lost in our desire for one another to care about the insistent beeping in Sam’s pocket. When the phone fell silent and then began to sound again, Sam groaned and pulled away, drawing a moan of disappointment from between my lips.
Still, he ignored the phone, gently pulling down my shirt, his eyes not meeting mine. He answered the phone, his arm around my shoulders firmly leading me past the hood of the truck and into the back hall of the house.
“What do you have?” A pause. “I’ll call you back when I’m in my office. Give me a minute.”
Sam walked me to his bedroom door and stopped. His eyes touched on mine, then skated away, their normally vibrant blue dark and shadowed.
“Chloe,” he said and stopped. “I-”
“Sam, it’s-”
“No,” he said, interrupting. “Don’t tell me it’s okay. I promised you I wasn’t going to push you. Or take advantage. And I’m not. I won’t. I’m not going to change your mind like this. I’m sorry. Go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Without letting me say a word, he left, walking across the hall to his office and closing the door behind him. Deflated, and a little confused, I went into his room and did the same. Leaning back into the heavy door, I stared at Sam’s room with blind eyes. It looked wrong without him in it.
Something deep in my heart hummed at the thought. He should be here with me. This was wrong. My protests, though they’d been well intentioned, were wrong. I shook my head, trying to drive the idea away. It wasn’t the time to think about Sam. Not while Nolan was still missing and the rest of my life was upside down. I was under too much stress to consider making a choice that could ruin my life.
With nothing else to do, I went to the bathroom and turned on the shower. I’d taken one that morning, but the stale scent of cigarette smoke clung to my skin. Skin that still hummed from the arousal Sam’s kiss had begun. It looked like I wasn’t going to see how much better it could get. At least not any time soon. Resigned to a night alone, I climbed in the shower to clean up before I tried to sleep. Perversely, I used Sam’s body wash/shampoo instead of my own soap, wanting to smell him on my skin if I couldn’t feel his touch.
I brushed my teeth and dried my hair without thinking about it, my mind turning over the past day, trying to fit together the pieces of what was going on, both with Nolan and between Sam and myself. So much was changing, so much unknown. I felt adrift. And I wanted Sam.
Crawling into bed, I tried to sleep. My mind and my body refused. My body was still wound up, tense from worry and unfulfilled desire. My mind refused to settle, insisting over and over, no matter how I tried to work around it, that I needed to be with Sam. I couldn’t tell if I was trying to talk myself into it because my body desperately wanted the orgasm that had been hovering out of reach as he’d sucked my nipples, or if I truly had moved past my fear of a relationship with him.
None of my concerns had changed. If he decided to move on, I’d lose my best friend, my job, and my heart. It was too much to risk. But if it worked, every dream I’d ever had would come true.
With a frustrated growl, I turned over and punched my pillow. I’d chosen one of the nightgowns Lola had sent over, a mid-thigh length cream silk trimmed in pink lace. It was soft and silky on my skin, the slide of the fabric as I moved only reminding me that I was alone when I should be with Sam.
This was why I’d insisted he not try to seduce me. He was as bad as that piece of chocolate cake I saw at the bakery and ended up buying. I knew I shouldn’t have it, but one look, one memory of how good it was, and I convinced myself I needed it. Except that Sam was so much better than the best chocolate cake I’d ever had. And that was saying something. I loved chocolate cake.
Eventually, I broke. Had he known this would happen? That once he got his hands on me I’d lose the ability to say no? I shoved the covers back and got out of bed, storming for the door, so frustrated and annoyed I wasn’t sure if I planned to jump on Sam or yell at him.
I didn’t get the chance to do either. When I swung open the door to his office, it was empty. A quick search of the rest of the house showed the same. Sam was gone.
14
Chloe
I had a pretty good idea where Sam was. 315 Studen Street, trying to find a man named Dog in a poker room. Fury bloomed in my chest, driving out my arousal and frustration. He couldn’t set me aside and then leave. He wanted me to stay home like a good girl and follow orders. What had that gotten me? Alone and frustrated. Forget that.
I knew I was being unreasonable. And I wasn’t going to be foolish. But I didn’t want to be left out, either. Now that my head was clear of passion, if not anger, I realized that the phone call earlier must have been Axel. They’d gone to the poker room without me. But I had my car and GPS. They wouldn’t be that hard to find.
Before I could think better of it, I went to the closet looking for something to wear. Not jeans. I found a dress that I hadn’t noticed that morning. A very dark, fine denim, cut in a wrap style. It was sexy, but not formal. Perfect for a bar. At least, I thought it was. I knew the bars I’d been to hadn’t had poker rooms in the back, so this was yet another situation where I had no idea what I was getting into.
Warning bells clanged in the back of my head. Danger! Danger! Danger! I ignored them. Anger swelled and grew in my chest until tears welled in my eyes. He’d kissed me senseless, touched me like I’d never been touched before, and then sent me to bed like a child. I wasn’t a child. I was a woman. And I had a right to make my own decisions.
The small part of me that was still rational called bullshit on my reasoning. I had a right to make my own decisions, it insisted, but this one was stupid. I ignored it. Pulling on the dress over the black lace bra and panties I’d worn earlier, I slipped on wedge sandals that went with the dress and checked the whole thing in the bathroom mirror.
My reflection took me aback. My normally cheerful brown eyes blazed with outrage. My round cheeks were flushed a dark pink. Ignoring yet another warning sign that I was emotional and not thinking clearly, I dragged a brush through my hair, then deliberately picked up my eyeliner and began to make up my face with more attention than usual.
When I was ready, I grabbed my purse and keys from the dresser and headed for the garage, typing the address into my phone’s GPS app as I went, my ever-growing fury propelling me at a brisk pace. I was over halfway to Stubens Street before I started to wonder what the hell I was doing.
Unlike the trip to the pool hall, this one wasn’t taking me into the scarier areas of Vegas. I was twisting and turning through downtown when the GPS indicated I’d arrived. The street was a mix of old and new, the bar I was looking for one of the older establishments, and the only one I could see that had its own parking lot.
I turned into the lot slowly, the alarm bells in my head clanging louder with every second that passed. Or maybe my fury had faded enough that I could hear them now, echoing in my skull in insistent demand that I stop and think before I did anything else. Trying to be sensible, I dialed Sam on my phone. Maybe he wasn’t even here, I reasoned. I hadn’t checked the lot for his truck yet, but maybe I’d misread the whole thing and I could turn around and go home.
The phone at my ear rang five times before it rolled over to voice mail. I put it down and drove in a circle until I found a parking space. Right beside Sam’s truck. That bastard. Inwardly, I fumed. I’d been on the edge of giving up and going home, but the sight of Sam’s oversized midnight blue truck set me off again. He was here. Either alone or with Axel, he’d left me at home alone to stew while he came here to find out more about the mess Nolan had gotten h
imself into.
Was I really going to do this? It was one thing to sit in the car and be pissed at Sam, but I had no idea what the bar would be like. It could be the pool hall all over again. On this street it could go either way and I wouldn’t know until I was inside. But Sam was in there. And so was a man who knew more about Nolan and where he could be. My resolve wavering, I sat in the car for another moment, balanced on the edge of decision. Go in or go home? Go in or go home?
I teetered for another moment before I crashed to one side, knowing what I had to do and scared to death about doing it.
15
Sam
Axel gave me a look and shook his head, already annoyed with the man called Dog. He was a big guy, not Russian, but according to him, another cousin of Sergey Tsepov. I wasn’t sure I believed that. So far, most of what had come out of Dog’s mouth sounded like bullshit. Nothing here was what I’d expected when Axel said we’d be going to check out the poker room.
I played cards from time to time, but I wasn’t into it enough to have sat a game in a place like this. Axel had. He had skills at poker, enough that he could have made a living with it if he’d wanted to. Over the years he’d hit most of the rooms in town at least once. Not this one, though. It was new and Axel had been more focused on business than fun for the last few years. He’d played some tournaments, but his days of pulling all nighters in high-stakes games were over.
I’d thought the bar in front of a poker room would be a lot like the pool hall we’d been in earlier. Some of them probably were, but this place was a step up. Far up. It had the look of a gentleman’s club, and not the kind with dancers. Old school, a club intended to appeal to gentlemen looking to relax and just be men for the night. Polished wood floors, dark leather couches and armchairs, generously poured drinks, and plenty of visible yet discreet flat screens, each showing a different game.