by Lauren Rowe
“It’s okay, chicken girl,” I whisper, holding her to me and stroking her hair. Oh, God, the sound of her crying is breaking my heart. “Sh, baby. I’m here.”
“I thought I’d never see you again,” she says between sobs. “I thought you were hurt. Or dead. Or that you went to that woman’s hotel room to—”
“No, baby, no. I couldn’t go through with it. Of course, not. Not now.” I kiss her hair. Her temple. Pull back and kiss her salty cheeks. “I left you a message on the room phone. I didn’t want you to worry.”
Savvy looks at the phone on the desk and sees the flashing red light. “I…I must have been in the shower when you called.”
“And you didn’t notice the red light when you got out?”
“It’s been flashing since we got to the room. I figured it was an automated welcome message.” She wipes her eyes. “I left you a message, too. At least, I think I did.”
“Oh, I’ve had my phone off.” I pull out my phone.
“Just delete it,” she says quickly.
“What’d you—”
“Nothing. I just babbled pathetically. Please delete it, okay? I was worried you were hurt. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
I’m curious what she said in her message, but she looks so damned anxious, I quickly delete the message.
She sighs with relief. “Thank you. What did you say in your message to me?”
I motion to the phone on the desk. “You can listen to it, if you want.”
Savvy moves to the desk and puts the phone on speaker mode. She logs into the voicemail system and presses a button and a canned female voice blares on the line. “Welcome to the Bellagio! We hope you enjoy your stay at—” She presses a button and, after a brief pause, my voice comes on and says, “Hey, Savvy, it’s me.”
My skin pricks to hear the obvious emotion straining my tone.
My voicemail message continues. “We never exchanged phone numbers, so I’m calling here. I just wanted to let you know the meet-up with my father went perfectly. I’ll tell you about it in person. I’m on my way to run an errand and didn’t want you to worry if it runs long or if traffic back to the Strip is horrible. I texted the birthday girl and told her the job is off. Actually, I told her to go fuck herself. I’ll probably be back at the room around noon or so, but if not, don’t go anywhere, okay?” I pause on the line. “Savvy, I want to see where this thing between us might lead in the real world. And in the meantime, if you’re still looking for a date for your reunion, then I volunteer as tribute.” I chuckle softly on the line. “I’ll see you soon, sweetheart. I can’t wait to kiss you and hold you in my arms and say all this stuff to you in person. So stay put in the room, okay? And don’t worry about me. I’m fine and coming back to the room as soon as I can get there. Bye.”
The line goes dead.
Savvy looks at me, her eyes wide and lips parted. “Well, shit,” she says. “That would have been an awfully nice message to get.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Aiden
My euphoric kiss with Savvy quickly becomes one of deep passion. Desperation. Urgency. In a frenzy of heat and want and need, we disrobe and begin mauling each other. I lay her naked body down on the bed and reach between her legs—and moan when I discover how wet and swollen she is for me. My heart racing and my dick throbbing, I begin massaging Savvy’s hard tip as I continue kissing her. And within minutes, I’m rewarded with the sensation of her muscles rippling against my hand. Oh, God, I want to burrow inside this woman. But I resist. Because, in this moment, even more than I crave my own pleasure, I crave Savvy’s.
I shift my fingers and begin stroking her G-spot with firm, confident strokes—and it’s instantly clear my touch is sending her straight to heaven.
“Aiden,” Savvy growls, riding my hand. Her eyelids are half-mast. Her cheeks are in full bloom. She looks absolutely drugged with arousal. And I love it.
How did I waffle even for a moment about my decision? Because now that I’m here with this girl, my heart leaping and soaring at her every moan and whimper, it’s clear to me there was never an actual choice to be made. This woman owns me. I don’t know how. Or where we go from here. Or if we’ll even have any kind of actual future, given how different we are, but in this moment, the only thing my heart is telling me is I belong here with her.
“Aiden,” Savvy says again. But that’s all she’s going to say, apparently. She’s a woman on the edge of rapture. Quickly, I grab my phone next to me on the mattress and record her face. Her eyes rolling back into her head. The way her eyebrows knit together like she’s in pain.
“Come for me, baby,” I coo. “I’m recording.”
A hard suck on her nipple and a couple more swipes of her G-spot, and Savvy inhales sharply, throws her head back, and comes against my hand.
When she’s done, I prop my phone against a pillow, still recording, and crawl greedily on top of her, pull her hands over her head, weave my fingers in hers, and burrow inside her, all the fucking way to my balls, and fuck her hard with everything I’ve got.
“Yes,” Savvy purrs underneath me as I fuck her. She wraps her thighs around me, and we both growl and groan with pleasure at the sensation of our bodies igniting.
“You’ve ruined me,” I grit out.
“I don’t want anyone else,” she whispers.
A tidal wave of pleasure rises sharply inside me, threatening to crash down, but I don’t want to let go yet. I want this electricity I’m feeling in this moment to last forever.
“Get on top,” I growl. “I want to watch you.”
We maneuver until she’s riding me, licking her lips, touching her breasts. I grab the phone and record her breasts softly bouncing as she fucks me, the curve of her hips, the fall of her dark hair around her milky shoulders. When she throws her head back, gracing me with a view of her long neck and erect nipples, I jolt and buck underneath her, on the verge of total ecstasy.
“You’re gorgeous,” I say, still pointing the camera at her. “Look straight into the camera for me.”
She follows my command. She looks straight at the camera, grabs my free hand, slides my index finger into her mouth, and begins sucking and licking it.
“Oh, fuck, that’s hot,” I say. I throw the phone down, sit up, and cradle her in my arms, holding on to her for dear life as she fucks me hard and fast. Finally, she throws her head back, juts her hard nipples toward me, digs her nails into my shoulders, and comes like a freight train—so hard, I feel wetness trickling down my balls. With a loud roar, I release, gripping her back hard as waves of pleasure rack through me.
When I’m able to breathe again, I grab Savvy’s face and kiss her passionately, my heart racing and my soul flying. Finally, we pull away from devouring each other and flop onto the bed, our chests heaving and our bodies sweaty. We rearrange ourselves until we’re lying entangled on the bed, caressing and stroking each other. And we talk. I tell her the harrowing story of what happened in the motel room when I paid for my father’s freedom. I tell her about my father’s plan to live in LA with his new girlfriend and her son. And I tell her how ecstatic I am to be here with her right now.
“What did Regina say when you told her to go fuck herself?” Savvy asks.
“I didn’t give her the chance to reply. I sent her a text and blocked her number.”
Savvy giggles with glee and snuggles into my chest. “Oh, Aiden. I’m so glad you came back to me. So, so glad.”
“Me, too, baby. Me, too.”
“What finally made you decide to come back?”
I stroke Savvy’s hair, considering my words. On the one hand, I don’t want to over-promise. No matter what I’m currently feeling—or think I’m currently feeling—I can’t let myself forget I’ve known this girl for two measly days. On the other hand, though, I want her to understand I’m feeling something incredible with her. Something I’ve never felt before. “I just imagined myself playing Betty. I thought about how I’d feel playing her, knowing I’d sacrificed my integ
rity to get her back. Knowing I’d given up any shot I might have had with you.” I run my fingertips down Savvy’s naked back, and I take a deep breath. “And I realized the price was just too high to get Betty back.”
Savvy lifts her head. Her eyes are sparkling. She smiles broadly.
“I can’t make you any promises,” I say softly, still stroking her back. “I have no idea what’s going to happen with us when we get back to LA—if these feelings will survive in real life. But I know I’ve never felt this way before with anyone else. Not even close. And I know I want to be worthy of the way you always look at me.”
“I’ve never felt this way, either. I didn’t even know I could feel this way.” She kisses me gently, and when she pulls back, she’s beaming with joy. “Aiden, there’s something I’ve been dying to tell you since you walked through the door. I think I’ve figured out a way to get Betty back!”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Aiden
Friday, 1:44 p.m.
“My boss told me I was one of four people being considered for promotion to team manager,” Savvy explains. “And, man, I wanted that promotion.”
We’re lying side-by-side on the bed, fully dressed. Savvy’s got her laptop on her belly. As she speaks, she’s navigating into something on her computer—a memo she says will help explain this “big idea” of hers for getting Betty back.
“So I got ambitious,” Savvy continues. “On my own time, I started secretly auditing the production control systems of the company’s biggest corporate clients. I was looking for vulnerabilities—you know, ways they could get hacked—and as I did my research, I wrote up a detailed memo about my findings. I was planning to turn in the memo at the end of the month and impress the hell out of the decision-makers regarding the promotion.” She makes a snarky face. “But then I got shitcanned before I’d had the chance to say a word about it to anyone.” She motions to her computer and flashes a devious smile. “Which means nobody, other than you and me, knows this memo—this blueprint—exists.”
I glance at her screen, but I can’t make heads or tails of it. “I don’t understand. How is it a blueprint? For what? Some kind of hacking? Your plan is for us to hack something?”
“Correct. Well, my plan begins with a hack and ends with a sort of a heist.”
“A heist?” I rub my forehead. “Savvy, no. I can’t let you—”
“Aiden. Please. Just listen. My idea is almost foolproof. Let me explain it.”
“Start at the beginning.”
She looks giddy. “The corporations I audited were in a variety of industries: banks, big-box retailers, national restaurant chains…and casinos. Almost fifty casinos, actually. Fifteen of them right here on the Strip. Including the casino at this hotel.” She motions to her laptop. “This memo details how hackers might penetrate the backbones of all the companies I audited, including the casinos. Which means, if put into the wrong hands, the memo would become somewhat of an instruction manual. A step-by-step guide to infiltrating those corporations’ systems.”
“For what purpose?”
“Patience, Grasshopper. I’m getting there. When I got my big epiphany after you left this morning, I poked around to see if anyone has, by chance, plugged up the holes I found in my audit. And they haven’t. Not a single vulnerability I found has been discovered or addressed by anyone. Which means I’ve still got detailed step-by-step instructions on how to access those fifteen casinos on the Strip. Specifically, I found a vulnerability in the backchannel that the gaming regulatory commission uses to monitor all of the Nevada casinos. A way into all of them, pretty much all at once, sidestepping all of their firewalls.” She pats her computer. “And it’s all right here.”
My heart is beating like a steel drum. “But how will accessing the systems of fifteen casinos lead to us pocketing twenty-five grand? Are you planning to steal credit card numbers from their databases? Transfer money out of the casinos’ bank accounts? Because there’s no way in hell I’m going to let you do anything that’s—”
“No, no. It’s nothing pedantic like outright thievery. Nothing so obvious.” She rolls her eyes. “We’re not going to directly steal the money. That would be too risky. Not to mention immoral.” She grins. “We’re going to hack into their systems, get particular information we need, and then use that information to gamble and win the money, fair and square.” She snickers. “Except it won’t be fair and square, of course, because we’ll have rigged the game in our favor. But that’s a minor immorality I can live with.”
Goose bumps erupt on my arms. Holy shit. “Which game?”
Savvy pauses for effect, excitement overtaking her pretty features. “Slots.”
I can’t help feeling deflated. I don’t know which game I thought she was going to say, but it certainly wasn’t slots. “We’re going to try to win twenty-five grand playing slots?”
Savvy nods. “We sure are. When I poke around the casinos’ systems, I can get the complete payout histories of every single slot machine on the casinos’ floors. And from that data, I can surmise which machines have paid out recently and which haven’t. And from that data, I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to extrapolate payout patterns and determine, with statistical certainty, which machines are ‘hot.’”
My shoulders sag. Shit. For a second there, I let myself get excited. “Sweetheart, I know you’re trying to help me,” I say. “And I really appreciate that. But this all sounds incredibly far-fetched. Or as Gramps used to say ‘like a bunch of hooey.’”
“It’s not ‘hooey.’ It’s simple math. I admit I don’t have the capability to predict payouts yet, but I believe, if I create the right algorithm to analyze the information, I’ll be able to do it the vast majority of the time. Now, admittedly, the plan isn’t foolproof. The algorithm will be based on statistical probabilities, so there will be anomalies, etcetera. And I also admit there are some practical considerations that might throw a monkey wrench in the works, or at least lower our odds. I’ll be creating an algorithm that will make predictions—but, yes, there will be a margin of error. But, regardless of all that, over the course of, say, a hundred machines, it’s my belief the chances are well over eighty percent we’ll be able to win twenty-five grand. I just need some time to gather data and create the algorithm and off we go.”
“What are the practical considerations? You said there are practical considerations that might throw a monkey wrench in the works?”
“I see a couple things. First off, single payouts of twelve hundred bucks or more have to be reported for taxes. We’d have to fill out tax forms with the casino, including showing identification, to get our winnings.” She makes a sour face. “That’s a firm no, obviously. Which means we can’t win more than eleven-hundred-ninety-nine bucks on any given machine.”
“Would it be possible to cap winnings like that? It seems hard enough to predict a winning machine in the first place.”
“Honestly, making sure we stay under the reporting threshold on every win is going to be the hardest part of this whole idea. I mean, obviously, keeping our winnings below a desired amount would be a simple function of the amount we bet. You can only win so much on a twenty-dollar bet versus a hundred-dollar bet, for instance. But how do we keep things under twelve hundred while still ensuring we win enough each bet to make it worth our while? We don’t want to waste the golden opportunity of a hot machine by winning a hundred bucks, you know? Getting to twenty-five grand would take way too long to make your deadline with the museum if we don’t win around a grand each and every time. We’d want to stay under the radar but also get in and out as quickly as possible to lessen our risk of attracting attention.”
I run my hand through my hair. “Frankly, this sounds like a tall order, baby. I’m sorry to be negative, but this sounds like a pipe dream.”
“It’s not. It’s not going to be easy, but I can do it. It’s nothing but a math and coding problem, Aiden. I’ve got this.”
“A math and coding problem, sur
e, but you said two practical considerations. What’s the second one?”
“I’m almost positive I’ll be able to identify the hottest machines at any given time, but the landscape could change on a dime. What if I’ve zeroed in on a particular slot but some random person plays it and wins before we get there? Or what if someone is playing our machine when we get there? We can’t very well ask someone to leave. We’d have to move to another machine. Which means I’d need to watch-dog the systems in real time to make sure we’re not dealing with stale information from minute to minute.”
I shake my head, overwhelmed. “This is too risky. There are too many moving parts.”
“No, no. All of these variables are containable. I’m sure of it. I just need some time to work the problem. It’s a puzzle, Aiden. And I love solving puzzles. It’s what I live for.”
“Okay, puzzle me this: assuming all of this is possible, just like you’re saying, where would we get the seed money to get started? Your ring, I presume?”
“Correct. I can get at least two grand for it. And that’s all we need to get started.”
“Then my answer is a firm no. For all the reasons I said before, I won’t let you hawk your ring for me.”
“It’s not up to you, Aiden. I’m going to do this whether you want me to or not. I’m going to create my algorithm and see if my idea works, simply because I won’t be able to sleep at night if I don’t at least try this idea. The only question is whether you’re in or out. I hope you’re in because things will go a whole lot faster if you’re on the casino floors playing the slots, but, even if you’re not in, I’m doing this.”
“You’re bluffing,” I say. “And not very well, I might add.”
“I’m not.”
“You already told me you need to watch-dog the systems. You can’t do that and play the slots at the same time. Which means you can’t possibly do this alone. You need me to pull this off. Which means I do have a say. And I say no. I really appreciate you wanting to help me, but I won’t let you sell that ring for a longshot like this.”