If he wasn’t mistaken, sorrow tinged Greer’s tone, and that kind of pissed him off. “We both know Wilde Security wouldn’t exist right now if I hadn’t built that empire. It’s the only thing keeping our heads above water.”
Greer paced over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and drank his beer in silence for several minutes. The neon lights from the street below played over his hard-planed face, highlighting the dark shadows under his eyes. Jude had once said Greer looked like their dad. And until that moment, Reece hadn’t really paid enough attention to see it. He did now, though. Those broad shoulders filling out a six foot, five inch frame, dark hair buzzed to the scalp and even darker eyes, a square-jawed face made of hard edges… Jesus, Greer was Dad’s clone and the realization tightened like a vise around Reece’s heart.
Twenty years later, and he still missed his parents every single hour of every single day.
“Would it be such a bad thing,” Greer murmured, “if we went under?”
Alarm had Reece sitting up straighter. “Are you kidding me? Cam left a good job with the police to work for us. Vaughn gave up any number of promising careers in the private sector, and Jude? What else would he do? They’re counting on us.”
“Yeah,” Greer said, and it seemed the weight of the entire world rested on that one word. He rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re right. Forget I said that. I’m tired.”
“I’ve noticed. Don’t you sleep anymore?”
“We’re not talking about me,” Greer said abruptly and jerked his thumb toward the bedroom. “This…thing between you and Shelby needs to stop.”
Reece tried to keep his features blank but had a feeling he’d already given himself away. Still, he tried to laugh it off. “Shelby? Are you kidding? No, it wasn’t her.”
Greer lifted a brow. “Word of advice, stay away from the poker tables. A blind man could read your tells.”
“Fuck.” Reece dropped his head into his hands. “Don’t say anything to Cam. Or Eva.”
“It’s not my place to, but I’m telling you now, end it.”
“There’s nothing to end.”
“Yeah, looks it.” Greer walked to the door, but stopped before opening it and glanced back. “Just remember Shelby’s…well, you’re playing with fire. And not a nice, controlled one either. She’s a wildfire and I’d hate to see you get burned, bro.”
Wildfire. That was an apt description of Shelby Bremer. Hot, oddly seductive, and dangerous as hell.
Reece brooded by himself for several minutes after Greer left and swilled the bourbon, watching the light glint off the amber liquid as it sloshed around inside the bottle. He’d regret drinking more. His head was fuzzy, skin warmed by the alcohol. He set the bottle aside and levered himself up to pace over to the windows, but a rattle from the hallway caught his attention, like someone was trying to get into his room.
Had Greer come back?
Or…Shelby?
He walked over and waited a beat for the knock, but none came. He reached for the knob and a white envelope slid under the door, landing on his foot. His name was printed on the front in a handwriting font.
A hard lump of dread settled in his gut as he picked it up. From the weight and feel of it, he had a good idea what he’d find inside. He sucked in a fortifying breath and ripped open the envelope, dumping the contents out on the small foyer table. Photos. Of him and Shelby, his hand between her legs as he held her trapped against the wall. And then with his head between her legs.
Heart thundering, he yanked open the door even though he knew the person who had dropped this was long gone.
Yup. Hallway was empty.
He shut the door and grabbed a handful of tissues from the bathroom before returning to the table. He didn’t dare handle the photos on the off chance his blackmailer had left fingerprints.
The quality of the photos wasn’t good, printed by an inkjet printer on cheap glossy paper. But nor were they bad enough that he’d be able to legitimately deny the photos were of him. Anyone with eyes could see that he was the man kneeling between Shelby’s legs.
So much for the whole what-happens-in-Vegas-stays-in-Vegas thing.
Jesus, could he make it any easier for his blackmailer?
Except he never expected his blackmailer to follow him all the way here. That was weird. He was no expert on the subject, but he knew that was not normal blackmail behavior.
Okay. So it’s another piece of the puzzle.
One that actually told him quite a bit more about the person behind this. The blackmailer didn’t just want money from him. If that was all, why the unnecessary expense of chasing him across the country? No, this person wanted something else. To ruin him? A distinct possibility.
He used a tissue to spread the photos out and studied each one closely. The person who took them had to have been in the hallway, too, but Reece had been too focused on Shelby to notice if anyone had followed them. He hadn’t seen anyone when he walked away from her, either, but now that he thought about it, he did hear the elevator bell seconds before he pulled away from her—it was the sound that had brought him back to his senses. Had that innocuous ding been his blackmailer fleeing the scene?
On the back of the last photo, he found a message printed in the same cursive font as on the envelope.
What will your business associates think of you slumming it?
Fury lit him up. He wasn’t slumming. Not with Shelby.
Okay, so his business associates might think that, but only because they were all stuck-up assholes. They considered sleeping with anyone who had less than a million in the bank “slumming”. In some circles of older money, Reece himself was considered plebeian because he was self-made, from a family with a long history of career military and blue-collar workers.
Shit. He had to tell Shelby about this. He rubbed a hand over his face, stubble rasping against his palm, and stared at the photos. As much as he’d rather not, these pictures were of her, too, and she needed to know. What if it didn’t just stop at pictures? Already the blackmailer had tiptoed over the line into stalking territory.
What if he was putting her in danger by not telling her?
Chapter Six
Shelby was in a dismal mood, and not even the chaos of vibrant lights and sounds on the casino floor cheered her.
This whole day had sucked.
Well, okay, not the entire day. She quite liked how it had ended and relished the thought of Reece tied to the bed, having to call one of his brothers for help.
Served him right.
But the rest of the day? Ugh. Was it possible to request a do-over from the big guy upstairs? She gazed toward the ceiling, but she’d never had much luck praying. Besides, she’d never set foot in a real church in her life—the chapel here in the hotel was the closest she’d come. If a big guy was up there granting prayers, he wasn’t gonna listen to her.
The bartender arrived with her cocktail and she plucked the stick of cherries out of it, biting off the top one.
She really hadn’t meant to ruin Eva’s wedding day. She had only wanted…hell, she didn’t know. She wanted a mother. Like, the real deal, not the spacey excuse for a mother she’d been born to, and part of her yearned to believe Katrina had changed. But Eva was probably right. Katrina would slip back into her old ways sooner rather than later, and did she really want to put any faith in that woman?
No.
The hurt and betrayal in the days after their mother attacked them last fall had been a bitter pill to swallow. Shelby absolutely didn’t want that heartbreak ever again.
So cheers to fucked-up childhoods and crappy mothers. She lifted her glass and toasted her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. She’d drink tonight and wallow in her self-pity, then tomorrow she’d find Eva and apologize. She could admit now she’d only told their mother about the wedding out of some selfish need to be loved.
Stupid.
Who’d ever love her? Her own mother couldn’t, and her sister barely tolerated her.
Shelby realized too late that tears had escaped her eyes and were rolling freely down her face. “Dammit.” She whisked them away with the back of her hand and lifted her glass to take a healthy drink. Movement in the mirror drew her attention, and she gazed up into the eyes of the one man she absolutely did not want to see.
“Jason.” She shook her head and downed half of her cocktail in one swallow. “You fucking followed me to Vegas?”
Jason Mallory stood behind her chair, blocking her in with his big, tattooed body. His hands landed on her shoulders. “I need an answer, Shelby.”
“How about ‘fuck you’. Is that answer enough for you?”
His fingers tightened. “Are you already forgetting our arrangement? Prison wouldn’t look good on you.”
“I’m not forgetting.” She spun and held out her wrists. “If you’re going to arrest me, do it.”
He stared at her for a long time, jaw clenched, then knocked her hands aside. “I’m doing you a favor here. The least you can do is honor our arrangement.”
“The last time I honored our arrangement, someone died and my father ended up in prison.”
“Because you put him there.”
She let a shuddering breath go and turned back to her drink, downing a large gulp. “I’m not helping you hurt Reece.”
“If he’s done nothing wrong, you won’t be hurting him.”
“He’s done nothing wrong.”
“That’s for you to find out.” His gaze went over her head to the mirror and tracked someone near the elevators.
Oh God. It was Reece. And no doubt he was looking for her.
Reece stepped off the elevator and studied the casino floor, searching for Shelby’s distinctive hair. He was holding out hope she hadn’t bounced off to one of the other casinos on the strip. Or, Christ help him, a dance club.
He scanned the bar area and—
There. A flash of turquoise headed toward the front door in a hurry.
Reece ducked and maneuvered through the crowd and opened his mouth to call her name, but stopped. A man was following her—huge, bald, long dark beard, covered in tattoos.
Shit, that couldn’t be good.
Outside the hotel, the guy grabbed her arm so hard he spun her around. She teetered on her ridiculously high heels and even from this distance Reece saw the flash of fear in her eyes. Anger sliced through him, startling in its intensity, and he picked up the pace, reaching her just as she twisted out of the man’s grasp and lost her footing. She tumbled to the sidewalk and the man reached inside his lightweight coat.
Armed.
The guy had a gun. Was he planning to use the weapon on Shelby?
Reece didn’t think, just let instinct take over, honed by his near religious devotion to the dojo. He braced himself and sent a kick flying toward the guy’s side, felt a solid connecting blow rattle up his leg. The man howled, and the gun clattered to the sidewalk. Several stares turned in their direction as Baldy scrambled for the weapon.
Reece stepped in front of Shelby, but the guy had lost interest as more people stopped to gape. He must have decided there were too many witnesses, because he bolted across the street, headed in the opposite direction of their hotel. He’d be long gone before any of the bystanders finished calling 911, and Reece didn’t particularly want to stick around for an encounter with Las Vegas’s finest, either. He pulled Shelby to her feet and hustled her into the teeming crowd gathered to watch the Bellagio’s fountains dance to Frank Sinatra’s Fly Me to the Moon against the glittering palatial backdrop of the hotel.
As water soared into the air in synchronized bursts, he caged her against the balustrade and used his bigger body to hide her distinctive appearance in the crowd, just in case the guy got any stupid ideas about circling back and trying again.
She was shaking, little trembles racing through her, and yet she smirked up at him. “Nice roundhouse, Hershey.”
He backed away just enough to meet her gaze while still keeping her shielded. “What was that all about?”
“It was…nothing. No big.” She lifted a shoulder and tried to shrug away from him, but he was not letting her get away so easily. He banded his arms around her and lowered his face to hover inches above hers. To anyone nearby, it’d look as if they were lovers stealing a romantic moment in front of the fountains.
Hah. Couldn’t be any further from the truth.
“That was not nothing,” he said. “He had a gun. What’s going on, Shelby?”
She licked her lips. “I…” For a heartbeat, genuine fear showed in her eyes before she dropped her gaze. “I think he wanted something from me.”
“Like?” When she didn’t respond, he added, “You’re not carrying a purse.”
“I dunno then.” Her tone was casual, as if a near mugging was something that happened to her every day. “But he’s gone. You scared him off. My hero. So why did you come looking for me anyway?”
Okay, she wasn’t ready to talk about it. Yet. But he’d get it out of her sooner or later, so for the moment, he let the subject drop. “Besides the fact you left me tied to my bed?”
Her smile was the picture of innocence. “Besides that.”
Grumbling, he lifted his head to glance around. Didn’t see Baldy anywhere nearby. Good. He led her away from the crowd, his hand entwined with hers. Just another happy couple taking in the sights and sounds of the Vegas strip together.
Shelby swung their joined hands and oohed and aahed over all the lights like nothing had happened. Her ability to deflect was astounding. Even better than Cam’s, and that was saying something since Cam was the master.
But Reece didn’t have the luxury of ignoring his problems. He had to deal with them, and fast. He waited only until the crowd thinned out enough that he could talk without being overheard, then drew a fortifying breath. “I came to find you because I’m being blackmailed.”
Her mouth actually dropped open, and she pulled him to a stop. “What?”
“Technically, we both are, because someone has video footage from the security cameras at The Bean Gallery.”
She scoffed, shook her head. “No, that’s not possible.”
“Then it’s a damn convincing fake, because it sure looked like us. I received the video with a demand for money unless I wanted the video leaked. And I don’t.”
She said nothing for several beats, then turned away. “Who can blame you?”
The note of dejection in her voice caught him completely off guard. “Shelby—” He had to run to catch up to her and grabbed her hand, pulling her to stop. “Hey, the reason I don’t want it leaked has nothing to do with you.”
She arched a brow. The ring there glinted in the neon of a sign promoting a burlesque show. “Oh no?”
“No!” When she remained unconvinced, he pushed out a breath. He had not expected this, hadn’t expected the hurt she was trying so hard to shrug off. He closed his hands around her shoulders and waited until she met his gaze. “Look, I’m in the middle of a very delicate negotiation and any…indiscretion on my part will ruin it.” And possibly ruin both DMW Systems and Wilde Security in the process. He needed this deal to keep both of his companies going, but telling her on this busy street felt too much like exposing his jugular and inviting everyone to come slice it open, so he kept his mouth shut.
“Indiscretion?” she echoed.
He winced. He was screwing this all up, wasn’t he? “Uh, not that I think what we’ve done is, but—”
“Forget it.” She shook her head. “I know you’re way out of my league and tonight and the other night—they were lapses of judgment on your part. I get it, really. So what can I do to help?”
“Nothing. I only told you about it to warn you. If that video or the photos I received earlier tonight go public—it could tarnish your reputation as well.”
She snorted. “Oh, Hershey. You can’t tarnish something that was never polished to begin with.”
“Stop.” He caught her chin between his
fingers before she turned away. “Someone massively fucked with your head, didn’t they?”
Her lips tightened, and stubbornness shone in every line of her face. “I’m stating the obvious. Everyone might think I live out in la-la land, but I’m a realist. I know what I am. I know what you are. ‘Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet.’”
Surprise coursed through him, and he dropped his hand. “The Ballad of East and West. Kipling.”
Color stained her cheeks. “I can read. In fact, I enjoy it.”
He blinked. This woman had the ability to throw him off like nobody he’d ever met. “I-I didn’t mean to insinuate—”
“Like I said, forget it.” She waved a hand dismissively, turned away, and froze in her tracks. “Oh, shit.”
Reece followed the direction of her frantic gaze to Baldy, a half a block away…
And headed right toward them.
Chapter Seven
“In here.” Reece ducked into the first available building, dragging Shelby behind him with a hard tug on her hand, and they came face-to-face with Elvis in a black and pink fifties-themed diner. As if that wasn’t surreal enough, a woman in a blue poodle-skirt sat at a table nearby, popping her gum as she tapped out a text on her phone.
Shelby giggled, and the sound was slightly hysterical even to her own ears. But this was all so ridiculous, and the shell-shocked look on Reece’s face was the cherry on top.
“Hello,” Elvis said. “Are you here to get married?”
Reece choked. “Uh, what? Married? No. We’re just…passing through.” He grabbed her hand again and tried to pull her across the tile floor, but Elvis gave her an idea. A crazy idea, sure, but what was life without a little bit of cray-cray?
“Wait.” She dug in her heels. “This is it. This is the answer to both of our problems.”
Reece glanced back at her like she’d lost her mind. And maybe she had, but since Jason, goddamn him, was determined to force her hand, she couldn’t see another way out of this mess.
“Give us a minute?” she asked Elvis. He nodded and both he and his assistant slipped away.
Wilde at Heart Page 5