Touching Sin (Vegas Sin Book 1)

by J. Saman

  “Don’t waste your time,” Diamond scoffs, snapping me out of my reverie. Diamond has a look about her that suggests she views me as competition. It makes me want to roll my eyes and tell her just how far off she is. “Jake hardly ever dates, and when he does, he loses interest quickly.” She offers up a fake sympathetic expression, like I’m the next to fall victim to his winsome ways.

  Well, that explains her antagonism toward me.

  “Thank you for the warning, but I’m not dating him.”

  “Of course you’re not,” she laughs, like it’s all just so funny. Like I’m just this out-matched, dim-witted girl hung up on the unachievable. “But I felt the need to warn you all the same. I saw the way you were looking at him.” Diamond plasters a satisfied grin across her face, obviously believing that she’s put me in my place. She tosses her hair back and stalks off, her cigarettes held firmly in her hand.

  Christ almighty. All this drama and it’s only my first day. I hate drama. Want absolutely nothing to do with it. It’s all I’ve ever known. Now I just want easy and quiet. Which is ironic given the town and situation I currently find myself in. Yet, I’m oddly inflated by her antagonism. It has me smiling before I catch the traitor on my lips.

  Look at my life. The joke is on me. Living in Las Vegas because the car I was driving to get away from my life broke down. It seemed like the best sort of place to hide once I actually gave it some thought. The sort of town where everyone has secrets and anonymity is not judged. I had four thousand dollars in cash and my suitcases filled with clothes.

  That was it.

  I’ve been here for two weeks, and I wish I could say the days are getting easier. That the nights aren’t as frightening. That would be a lie. I don’t feel safe. If anything, I feel more exposed now that I’m working, but I didn’t have a choice, and so far, my fake ID is holding up okay.

  But how long will that last?

  Especially when money, clout, and resources have no limit.

  If Niklas wanted to find me, which I assume he does, then it wouldn’t be that difficult. It has me jumpy. It keeps me on edge. It makes for restless nights and sick days. But sometimes all the good choices are stripped away from us and we’re left with the bad in order to survive—like wearing a uniform that shows more skin than it covers and tending bar with a guy who consumes me with polished glances and panty-melting heat.

  He already knows too much.

  But there are worse gigs to be had in this town, that’s for damn sure, and I am in no place to try and find something else. Something that does not include Jake.

  The restaurant closes at two in the morning. For Vegas, from what I’m learning, that’s early. The hotel, on the other hand, never closes. The hotel, the casino and even some of the bars and places to eat are open twenty-four hours, seven days a week. That makes my sneaking simultaneously easier and more difficult.

  After two weeks, I know all the cameras. I think I’ve figured out where the rare dark spots are. How to play duck and cover with the unavoidable ones.

  I think.

  Security is something Vegas hotels are notorious for. And not just basic security and cameras. They have all kinds of tricks up their sleeves according to my internet research. Maddox was not forthcoming. Casinos use high-resolution images, facial recognition, and have more personnel than some small countries probably have. On the one hand, that makes me feel safe. On the other, sometimes I’d rather not have the security in on what I’m up to.

  They’d either have me arrested or kicked out on the streets.

  Worse than that, they’d have me fired and I need the money.

  With my backpack hiked up high on my shoulder, I walk briskly down the long hallway that leads back into the main area of the hotel. The casino is bustling for this hour. It’s a Thursday night and this town is known for its weekend gaming. When it’s busy like this, and the slots and tables are overrun with action, and money is speaking louder than the drunks placing the bets, no one pays any attention to me.

  Gliding along the perimeter of the casino, I walk past the sports book, down a hall and over toward the employee door that leads to the pool and spa areas. This part of the hotel is down a small alcove and I know there are cameras here, because they make no attempt at hiding them. But I have yet to be stopped, so I wonder how closely—if at all—they monitor this area after hours.

  In the summer, the pool closes at eight p.m. and does not open again until nine a.m. But the staff arrive as early as seven to get things set up for the day. Taking out my universal keycard that I have no business having, I swipe it through the slot, hit the pin that I should not know, and the door gives me a green light and a beep that tells me I’m in.

  The warm breeze of the Las Vegas summer night kisses across my face and down my exposed skin. It’s welcome and sweet. Like soft kisses and stolen moments. The sounds of wind rustling through palm fronds and water splashing against rocks from the man-made waterfall feeding into the main pool, permeate the night. Even though it’s dark outside and it’s the middle of the night, the lights of the pool are on and the waterfall is still flowing. They never turn them off from what I gather.

  The pool serves as the only illumination, casting a dancing blue glow into the air, barely enough to see by. It’s certainly not enough be readily visible if someone, like security, happened to be out here. Removing my shoes, I pad barefoot along the path, snaking my way around the pool and various seating areas over to the back door that leads to the spa and their own private pools.

  When I come upon the lounge chair abutting the wall and hidden behind some shrubbery, complete with a blanket and small pillow, I can’t help but smile weakly. Maddox. That man has been true to his word every step of the way.

  He helped get me my fake ID and jobs and told me that when I have enough money saved up, he’ll help me get a safe place in a decent neighborhood that wouldn’t question my ID. He hates the fact I still sleep here, but for now, it’s where I feel the most comfortable. I don’t want to stay with him, nor do I want him to pay for me the way he offered. I don’t want to sleep in a shelter, and apartments are costly. Anything I can afford is not in a safe neighborhood. Out here, I’m alone. Out here, I’m safe. Relatively speaking anyway. Even if it is outside.

  Lowering my body onto the lounge chair, I cover myself with the thin blanket, rest my head on the somewhat soft pillow and close my eyes. I’m exhausted. It was a long night of ups and downs and I have to be awake again by six-thirty. I’m going to make these almost four hours count. I set my alarm, close my eyes and I’m out.

  The morning comes quickly. The sun is already starting to rise and with it, bringing on the incredible desert heat that will resonate on the streets all day long. Getting up quickly, I move the lounger back into the main pool area, fold up my blanket and pillow, and tuck them in the alcove that is hidden behind a small prickly plant that has a name I do not know.

  The spa opens at eight a.m. and since Maddox gave me that universal card, I try to slip in early and use their shower facilities before anyone can notice. I have to be at my second job at eight, working the breakfast shift for another restaurant in this hotel. I rarely step foot outside the walls of this resort. Here I know. Here I’m safe.

  Out there… Nothing about out there feels safe to me.

  Out there is a set up. The punchline at the end of a bad joke.

  After I shower and blow out my long now-dark brown hair into soft waves, I slip into my second uniform, which consists of short-short jean cutoffs, a short sleeved white button-down that is supposed to be open at the top in the center of my bra, and black-and-white checked suspenders. The bars, restaurants, and the casinos in this town want slutty, and as far as I know, no one complains about it. You want the job, you dress the part.

  I tuck down my shame, hoist my backpack onto my back and then leave the spa like I own the place and belong here just like everyone else. No one questions me. No one stops me. Only a few people are around. And that’
s exactly how I like it. But the moment I hit the floor where I know there are cameras everywhere, I tuck my head down so that it comes off like I’m watching where I’m going and let my long, dark hair do the rest to cover me.

  That was one thing Maddox encouraged. My hair was blonde before and he suggested I lighten it or go much darker. I went dark, because I feel like it’s less conspicuous. I also cut off about four inches from the length, but it’s still to my mid-back.

  A man and a woman are laughing, speaking in German to each other. Their conversation is about winning five hundred dollars on a one-dollar slot machine bet, but the accent and the language send me into alarm. My feet pick up their pace without conscious thought. My hand grips the strap of my backpack to steady it against me.

  I move around another couple, but the Germans aren’t far behind and I can still hear them. Sweat slicks the back of my neck as my heart thunders. I whip past more people and around a corner only to slam into someone. Hard. The weight of my backpack coupled with the force of the blow knocks me back onto my ass with a shockingly painful slap.

  A whimper passes my lips as I search wildly around, but the German couple are nowhere to be seen. They weren’t working for him. He’s not here. He doesn’t know where I am. God, I don’t know how much longer I can take this.

  “Mia?” I look up, brushing my hair out of my face and trying to clear my bleary eyes. When I focus, I land on Jake’s dark eyes, who seems equally as stunned to see me as I am to see him.

  He’s wearing a suit. Well, he’s wearing a suit jacket and slacks that match, but his light-blue button-down is open at the collar and his dark gray tie is loose, hanging in a way that suggests he just threw it around his neck before walking out the door. His chestnut hair is still damp from a recent shower and brushed off his cleanly shaven face. Other than the haphazard tie, he looks sinisterly handsome and professional. It throws me for a beat.

  Long seconds pass as we stare at each other, and then he reaches out to me, offering to help me up. I don’t take his proffered hand, instead I awkwardly maneuver myself with my heavy backpack and pry myself up and off the floor. He shakes his head slightly at my refusal as he does a sweep of my outfit and I want to die. He looks like a god amongst mortals, dressed in Armani, and I’m dressed like some trashy, nineteen-fifties, Buddy Holly pinup throwback. If I thought I didn’t know what to make of Jake before, this morning, with him dressed like this, it’s worse.

  And if I thought my embarrassment had met its limit, I was wrong.

  “Are you okay?” he finally asks. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “I’m fine.” I am. At least, I think I am. “I wasn’t looking, either. Sorry I smashed into you.”

  He grins at me. I really hate how gorgeous he is. He would be easier to discount if he didn’t make my stomach flutter, my heart spring to life and my skin tingle every time I saw him. And his eyes. God, I have no idea what to do with those. They’re intense and dark and they give off the impression that he sees everything and reveals nothing.

  “You can smash into me anytime. I’m just glad I didn’t hurt you.” I blink at him, a little disconcerted at his almost-flirtatious comment and that grin grows into a full-blown smile. “I take it you also work in The Bistro.”

  It’s not a question, but I nod all the same.

  “Are you going on a job interview?” I gesture toward his suit.

  He laughs and the sound…well, it gives me chills. The good kind. The kind you feel all the way down to your toes. “No. No job interview. Just…work.” He reaches for my face and I flinch back, but he doesn’t stop or pull away from his chosen path. His hand caresses my cheek, brushing a few strands of hair from my face and tucking them behind my ear.

  A small whimper passes my lips and I realize my eyes are clenched shut.

  “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  I nod, but I can’t speak. Hell, I can barely breathe. It’s been so long since a man has touched me for anything other than inflicting pain and punishment. Even when Niklas touched me like this, soft with gentle strokes, I knew it was only the calm before the storm.

  “Open your eyes.”

  I do, but slowly, and when I find him again, he’s closer than he was before. Sort of like he was last night when he brought his face down to mine so he could look me in the eyes. He searches my face for an eternity, his body drawing in to point where he’s all I can see. His body heat wraps around me, the scent of his cologne and masculine shampoo calms me down and speeds me up at the same time. “You have flecks of gold in your green eyes.”

  I do. No one has ever noticed before. Everyone assumes they’re green, because that’s the most dominant color, but sometimes I think they’re more hazel.

  “And your hair is darker.”

  I don’t respond.

  “What’s your last name, Mia?”

  I shake my head, unable to gather my scattered thoughts. It’s his proximity. His touch. His…everything. It’s beyond distracting.

  “It’s none of my business. I know that. And I’ll keep my mouth shut because I get the strong impression you need your secrets the way most people need honesty, but I want to know all the same.”

  I hate myself as I open my mouth and say, “Jones.”

  He instantly knows it’s a lie. His eyes darken and lose some of their luster. He blows out a loud breath, leans back and crosses his arms over his chest as he studies me. He nods his head, not daring to challenge me. He knows I’m a lost girl. He knows I’m a bit of a mess. I mean, what sort of person can’t go to a hotel? What sort of person finds themselves stranded on the side of the road in an ancient fossil of a vehicle without a proper place to go? Oddly enough, I think he gets me and doesn’t feel the need to push further. As he said, it’s none of his business.

  “Did you get a chance to read over that booklet I gave you?”

  “Not yet. But I appreciate you helping me and I will get to it later. I don’t work again until tomorrow night.”

  “I’ll help you with whatever you need,” he rushes out before slowing it down. “That’s the sort of guy I am.”

  I half-smile, laughing lightly at his impish tone. “So I’m learning. Thank you for being so accommodating, Jake.”

  He grins like a little boy when I say his name and leans closer to me again. “Accommodating?” He points to his chest and I smile wide. Why? I don’t even know at this point. It just feels too good not to. “Me?”

  I nod, my teeth gnawing on my bottom lip.

  “I can be accommodating. If you like accommodating, that’s exactly what I am.”

  I shake my head, trying to laugh off his comment as anything but serious. I take a step back. He’s too close. He’s everywhere. His eyes seeking. His smile infiltrating. His playfulness enticing.

  “I need to get to work.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Mia Jones.”

  I offer up a closed-mouth grin and a small wave. It’s the best I’ve got. And with that, I turn on my heels and walk off. I don’t run the way my body is screaming at me to. I walk. Because I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’s watching me, and I’ll be damned if I show him just how much he affects me.

  Chapter Six

  “She’s pretty,” Maddox says as he walks up, joining on my right and standing beside me as he appraises Mia the same way I am. “Very pretty. Who is she?”

  For some reason, I don’t want to tell him I found her broken down on the side of the road. That feels like something between me and her and no one else. When I had Brennan get her car towed, I didn’t give him any information other than I was helping out a friend. But by the time I made it back out to the truck, she was gone.

  It was like a sucker punch to the gut. I even ran down to the sidewalk, searching everywhere I could for her. But she was long gone. That didn’t stop me from driving around trying to find her. I did. For longer than I cared to admit. And now, two weeks later, here she is. The woman I never thought I’d see again but haven’
t stop thinking about once.

  “She works at Valaria’s with me. New hire as of last night.”

  “And you’re already talking to her like that? Did you fuck her and that was your walk of shame?” Maddox is incredulous. So am I if I’m being honest, because he’s right. I was way more physical with her than I had any right to be.

  “No. I did not fuck her. She’s just…” I trail off. I have no words for what she is, and I certainly don’t feel the need to entertain my best friend any more than I already have. “I’m just helping her out, is all. What’s the big deal?”

  “No big deal,” Maddox says, not even bothering to hide his smarmy grin. “She looks like a nice girl,” he adds.

  “Don’t start.”

  He laughs, nudging me in the shoulder. “I came by to tell you I can’t make this morning’s meeting. I gotta go down the street. Two dealers called out last minute.”

  I turn to face him, finally dragging my eyes away from the front entrance of The Bistro Mia fake-ass-last-name Jones went through almost five minutes ago. Maddox is already wearing his black dealer’s uniform. His light blue eyes give the impression they haven’t seen a full night’s sleep in weeks, but I doubt mine are much better, so I don’t comment on that.

  “You felt the need to stop here first?”

  He shrugs. “Your phone went straight to voicemail when I called, and I wasn’t sure if you’d get my text. I know this is a big meeting, so if you want me to figure something else out for the tables, I can.”

  “Nah. Go on. Thanks for covering that, I know it’s not really your job.”

  “It’s cool. I like dealing, remember?” I nod, because I do remember. “I’ll catch you later, then you can bring me up to speed on everything I missed at the meeting.”

  I slap his large, muscular back. “Sounds good. Later.”

  “Have fun with your nice girl,” Maddox calls back over his shoulder, chuckling to himself as he goes.

  She is a nice girl. Maddox isn’t wrong about that. She’s also very pretty, just as he said. Truthfully, she’s downright gorgeous with her long, flowy dark brown—I can’t decide which I like better on her, brown or blonde—hair and green eyes. Tall and slender with unbelievable curves in all the right places. Her beauty is something else entirely. I can’t even explain what. It goes beyond her face, her eyes, her lips, her hair and her body. It goes deeper.