by Lauren Rowe
I’m quaking with rage. “Jesus Christ.” I rub my forehead. “Is there an agreement on how many hours you’re supposed to spend with her on Saturday night? Does she expect you to spend the entire night with her?”
“Actually, she expects me to spend a full forty-eight hours with her. The job starts tomorrow at noon and ends Sunday at noon.”
I gasp. “No. You can’t do this, Aiden. Some things are worth more than money.”
His face ignites. He leans forward sharply, his face ablaze. “You think I don’t know that, Savvy? You think I don’t know she’ll be buying my integrity—my very soul—along with my cock? Of course, I know that. Give me some fucking credit. But normal rules of morality and decency don’t apply here. Not when my dad’s life is at stake. He’s not going to get a figurative bullet in his brain. They’re going to kill him. I literally need fifty grand to save my father’s life and, by God, I’m gonna get that fifty grand, if it’s the last thing I do. I wish my father and I were the kind of people who could get a loan from a bank, but we’re not. I wish we had family to turn to, but we don’t. It’s just me and him and nobody else. So, fuck it, I’ll do whatever I have to do to save him because he’s mine and I’m his, and there’s no choice in the matter.” He looks around, clearly worried someone will overhear him. He leans forward again and whispers, “You think I want to fuck her? I don’t. I hate that woman. I hate her. I grew up aching to have a mom. That’s all I ever wanted. To have a mother to love me and take care of me like the other kids had. And then at sixteen I met my dad’s rich fuck buddy, and for a split second I was thinking she might become kind of like a mom. I thought she was being extra nice to me because she was feeling maternal toward me.” He scoffs. “I was thinking she might actually care about me the way I’d been aching my whole life for a woman to do.” His face darkens. “And then it turned out she just wanted to fuck me.”
“Oh, Aiden.”
“Honestly, if it comes down to it, and I have to follow through with fucking that woman—for forty-eight fucking hours, no less—I’m sincerely not sure how I’ll physically manage it, no matter what’s at stake. I figure I’ll just snort every line of coke she offers me and pop ten Viagras and close my eyes. But I swear to God, I’ll do whatever has to be done, come hell or high water. I’ll get blitzed out of my mind and do it, Savvy, my integrity be damned, because I can’t lose my father.” Emotion grips his face. “I owe him my life. And he’s all I’ve got left.”
I remain silent for a long moment, simply because I’m overwhelmed by the torrent of emotion I’m feeling. Finally, I gather myself and say, “You have until Sunday night to get the fifty grand?”
Aiden nods. “Sunday at eight. Originally, my father owed fifty-eight grand, and they were gonna kill him on Wednesday night. But I wired them every penny of my life’s savings—just about eight grand—on Wednesday morning, and they agreed to give him an extension to come up with the rest. But if I don’t bring them the money by Sunday at eight, and not a minute later, they’ll kill him.”
I feel like crying. Aiden has already had enough loss and heartbreak and suffering in his life. He doesn’t need this, too. “What is your—?”
“Refills?” the waitress asks, appearing at the edge of the table, holding a coffee pot.
“Just our bill, please,” Aiden says politely. “Thanks.”
The woman briefly searches the pocket in her apron and pulls out our check. “Here you go. Was everything okay?”
“It was great,” Aiden says. He hands her twenty-five bucks without looking at the bill. “Keep the change.”
The waitress looks at the cash in her hand and smiles. “Thanks so much. Have a great day.”
“You, too,” Aiden says calmly.
The waitress leaves.
“Let me pay you back for breakfast,” I say. “You paid for drinks and food last night, too. You shouldn’t be paying for anything. You need every dollar right now.”
Aiden scoffs. “Sweetheart, when a dude’s got to come up with seventy-five grand in three days, paying for his girl’s drinks and food is the least of his worries.”
“Seventy-five grand?” I blurt. “But this whole time you’ve been saying your dad owes fifty.”
“Oh. Yeah. He does. But I need to come up with a total of seventy-five grand.”
I feel like my head is going to explode. “Why?”
Aiden stands and wearily puts his hand out to me. “Come on, chicken girl. I’ll tell you the whole fucked-up story as we drive.”
Chapter Ten
Savannah
As Aiden and I settle into my car in the parking lot, I suddenly lose my stiff upper lip. “I’m not ready to drive to Vegas just yet,” I blurt. I drop my car keys into my drink holder in the console and put my hands over my face. “Not if it means saying goodbye to you when we get there.”
Aiden sighs. He touches my shoulder. “Savvy.”
I drop my hands and look at him with pleading eyes. “I know you have to take care of the situation with your dad when you get there. I get it. But I don’t know why that means we have to say goodbye forever. Do you want to say goodbye to me in a couple hours, Aiden? Please answer me with brutal honesty. It’s a moot point if you’re not feeling what I am.”
Aiden swallows hard. He looks positively stricken. “No, I told you honestly before, I don’t want to say goodbye to you. Can’t you tell how I’m feeling? Isn’t it written all over my face? But it doesn’t matter. I’m not getting you involved in this shit. Besides, the way we feel about each other will be a moot point if I wind up reporting for duty with Regina. If that happens, you won’t want to see me afterward. You won’t respect me anymore.”
I let that hang in the air for a moment, not sure how to respond. Honestly, I think he’s right about that. Shit.
“Don’t you understand?” Aiden says, his eyes flashing. “When I get to Vegas, I’m going to do whatever I have to do to save my dad. Whatever that is. Even if that means losing my shot with you. And, frankly, if I fuck Regina, I won’t deserve your respect anymore. I wouldn’t want to pursue you because I’d know you could do a whole lot better.” He looks out the passenger window at the parking lot. “So I’d rather just say goodbye to you today. Part ways when you still think I’m some kind of Prince Charming. If I wind up selling myself to Regina, then I don’t want to have to see the way you look at me when you find out.”
“But what if you don’t sell yourself to Regina?”
He turns away from the window to look at me with burning blue eyes. “And how would I maneuver that, Savvy? Should I agree to give you a call if I don’t fuck Regina? Is that what you want?”
I shrug. Why is he making that sound like a weird idea?
He continues. “Think about it. What happens when I don’t call you? You’ll know what I did. You’ll lie in bed after that, imagining me fucking her. And I’ll lie in bed after that, thinking about you waiting by the phone for that call that never came. I’ll imagine the look on your face the moment you realized I must have fucked her.” His Adam’s apple bobs. His torment is palpable. “I’d rather you not know, to be honest. I’d rather say goodbye now and let you wonder, rather than know. Because, truthfully, the chances are really slim my Plan A is going to work out. If I had a good shot of it panning out, yeah, I’d stick to you like glue because you’re the greatest girl I’ve ever met. But I don’t have a good shot at my Plan A working out. I just don’t.”
I stare at his beautiful face for a long beat. His beautiful, earnest, heartbreaking face. “What is this Plan A of yours?” I say. “Tell me about it. Maybe I can help you make it work.”
He leans back in his seat and closes his eyes. “Savvy, I never intended to get you involved in this shit.”
I sigh.
“Can we just drive?” he asks weakly. “I’ve got to get to Vegas. I’m freaking the fuck out.”
I pick up my keyring from the console and slide the correct key into the ignition. But I stop short before turning
the engine over. “Please tell me if this is pathetic, but I want to be with you one last time.” I look at him. “Let’s find a back road somewhere and park. If we’re truly going to say goodbye to each other when we get to Vegas, then I want to feel that crazy electricity with you once more.” I swallow hard as emotion rises up inside me. “Because I’m not convinced I’ll feel anything quite like it again.”
Aiden touches my arm. “Aw, Savvy. I’m so sorry. I never meant for feelings to get involved here. This was supposed to be fun. A brief distraction from the shitstorm. Nothing but fun and an easy ride to Vegas.” He leans back in his chair and closes his eyes. “Fuck.”
I wait for a long moment and finally say, “One more time. If you want that, too.”
Aiden opens his eyes and shoots me a heartbreaking half-smile. “Yeah. Of course, I want that, too. I can’t imagine I’m ever gonna feel this kind of spark again, either.”
My heart physically hurting, I nod and turn the ignition over. “But fair warning? When we hit the road again, I’m going to demand you tell me everything about your Plan A. Because if there’s any way at all for me to help you, then I’m sure as hell going to do it.”
Chapter Eleven
Savannah
I don’t want an inch of separation between us. I want all of him. Every inch. I hitch my legs up higher around Aiden’s thrusting body, as high as I can manage in the cramped space of my backseat, trying to coax him into the farthest recesses of my body, and he responds by guiding my thighs to his shoulders and grinding himself into me with breathtaking fervor. In short order, my feet are whacking against the ceiling of my SUV. My head is banging against the side interior. And my innermost muscles have never felt this good in all my life.
Aiden growls my name as he thrusts, his voice husky with need and passion and desperation, and that’s all I need for my body to release with an orgasm so pleasurable, it makes my eyes water.
“Get on top,” Aiden barks out.
“We’re like sardines in here.”
“I want to get a video of your face. I want to remember the way you look when you come. It’d just be for me. I’ll never show anybody.”
I should say no. I know I should. But I don’t. I say yes. Because trusting him completely is turning me on.
We rearrange ourselves indelicately, ridiculously, until I’m somehow on top of Aiden and riding him like a madwoman in the cramped back seat. And I must admit, once we’re in position and Aiden is grabbing my ass with one hand and recording me with the other—all while looking up at me like I’m a wet dream—my body responds in a whole new way.
“You make me want to be worthy of you,” Aiden whispers as I ride him furiously. He sits up and sucks on my nipple hard—so hard, so ferociously, I yelp like I’ve just touched a hot stove. He buries his face in my breasts, and I throw my head back, and it knocks against the ceiling of the car. Our movement becomes wild. Crazy. Intense. We’re both gritting out words of passion. Urgency. Desperation. Aiden positions his phone to record my face while massaging my clit with his free hand. He tells me I’m beautiful. That he’s going to look at this video of me every night for the rest of his life…and I lose my freaking mind. An orgasm of such force rips through me, I press my palms against the ceiling of the car to steady myself and howl at the top of my lungs.
“Fuck,” Aiden blurts.
He drops the phone and comes inside me forcefully, and I flop forward, moaning and breathing hard.
Finally, we’re both quiet. Covered in sweat. Panting.
I lift my head and cup his jawline in my palm. “You’re not going to be her boy toy,” I declare firmly. And, as far as I’m concerned, it’s a nonnegotiable statement. “I don’t know what Plan A is or how I’m going to help you with it, but, by God, I will. I’m smart, Aiden. Really smart. I’m going to help you figure out a solution to your problem, and you’re not going to report for duty tomorrow. And that’s final.”
He looks bereft. “I know you’re smart, Savvy. Ten times smarter than me. But it’s not smarts I need, baby. It’s luck. Lady luck.”
“I knew it! Plan A is gambling?”
“Yes.”
“Your big plan is to pay off a gambling debt by gambling?”
He makes an adorable face. “Ingenious, right?”
“Goddamnit,” I mutter. I lean forward and put my forehead on his shoulder. No wonder Aiden has felt so hopeless about his Plan A working out. He said he needs seventy-five grand for some reason, not fifty. How could he possibly hope to win that much money from a casino, unless his seed money is at least, I don’t know, twenty grand? No wonder he’s willing to sell himself to Regina for twenty-five grand!
“Savvy?” he whispers. “What are you thinking?”
I lift my head. “I’m thinking it’s time for you to tell me why you need seventy-five grand.”
Chapter Twelve
Savannah
“You’ve got twenty-five grand in cash sitting in your backpack?” I ask, my eyes wide. I peel my attention off the highway and look at Aiden in my passenger seat. “That’s an insane amount of cash to be carrying around in a freaking backpack, Aiden.”
“I know. I’ve had a stomach ache since I walked out of the bank with it yesterday morning.”
I grip the steering wheel. “And that guy at the museum said he’d for sure let you buy your grandfather’s guitar back if you show up there Monday with the full twenty-five grand?”
“I’ve got it in writing,” Aiden says. “If I show up with the full twenty-five grand before the museum’s closing time on Monday, they’re contractually obligated to return Betty to me. If I don’t show up with the cash before the deadline, then she’ll become theirs, and there’s nothing I can do about it ’til the end of time.”
“You call your grandfather’s guitar Betty?”
Aiden shoots me a breathtaking smile from the passenger seat. “That’s what Gramps always called that particular guitar. It was his all-time favorite. The love of his life.”
“Your grandfather was a real character, wasn’t he?”
“He was definitely one of a kind.”
Oh, this boy. His face right now is making my heart burst. “I’m so glad you thought to negotiate a buyback period with the museum,” I say. “That was a stroke of brilliance.”
“A stroke of brilliance born of desperation,” he replies. “I love Betty as much as Gramps did. Probably more, since it’s all I’ve got left of him. I never in a million years thought I’d sell her for any amount, let alone a paltry twenty-five grand.” He sighs. “But my father’s life is worth more to me than any guitar. Even Betty.”
My heart pangs for probably the twentieth time since Aiden started telling me his story—which, in summary, is this: When Ernie “Mac” MacAllister passed away ten years ago, he left his beloved fourteen-year-old grandson his most-treasured possession—the electric guitar he’d played on countless hit records over the decades. Of course, Aiden cherished that guitar for sentimental reasons, but he also knew it had objective value, too. Not only because his esteemed grandfather had played it on so many hit records, but also because his grandfather had made a habit of collecting signatures on the face of his guitar over the years—signatures of the sometimes iconic and beloved artists with whom Mac had played.
“Did you shop the guitar around to a bunch of museums?” I ask. “Maybe you could have gotten more than twenty-five grand.”
“There was no time for that,” Aiden says. “I knew that particular museum would pay good money for it, so that’s where I went.”
“How’d you know they’d buy it? Did they appraise it for you at some point?”
“No, I never even thought to get Betty appraised because I was never planning to sell her at any price. I knew that particular museum would buy the guitar because, about a year ago, I was playing a gig with a band in a bar, and this guy started chatting me up on our break. As it turned out, the guy was the museum’s curator, and he offered me fifteen grand on the spo
t. Of course, I turned him down and told him Betty wasn’t for sale at any price. But he goes, ‘Well, if you change your mind, come down to see me at the museum any weekday. No appointment necessary. I’ll cut you a check for fifteen grand on the spot.’ So when I got off the phone with Regina, I hauled my ass straight over there.”
“I’m impressed you were able to talk the museum guy up from fifteen grand.”
“I tried to get him to the full fifty. The same as I tried with Regina. But twenty-five was the highest the guy would go.”
“So you’re going to try to parlay the twenty-five grand from the guitar into seventy-five so you can pay off your dad’s debt and buy the guitar back from the museum?”
“Exactly.”
“What game are you planning to play in the casino?”
“Roulette. I’m gonna put it all on black, baby.”
“Twice? Because even if you win your first bet, you’ll only have fifty grand at that point. Enough to save your dad, yes, but not enough to buy the guitar back from the museum.”
He considers that for a moment. “Yeah. If I win the first bet, I guess I’d bet again and hope to get the rest.”
“And if you lose the first bet?”
He grimaces. “Then I’ll report for duty with Regina tomorrow at noon.”
My stomach revolts. I shift my fingers on my steering wheel. “But reporting for duty with Regina tomorrow only earns you twenty-five grand. Would you get your money from Regina and then head straight to the roulette table again?”
I glance over at Aiden. His jaw is clenched. “Honestly, if I lose my first bet and report for duty with Regina, then my new Plan A would become doing literally anything necessary to convince her to pay me the full fifty grand.”