King (Vegas Kings Book 2)

by McKenna James

  Of course, the booth also comes with a complimentary lap dance, so it’s not long before Jazmine saunters through the curtains in her skimpy sequined outfit. Red sequins, though, not silver like the dress Piper wore that first night.

  “Hi, handsome,” Jazmine says, trying to look bashful as she approaches me. She just looks hungry, though. A shark on the hunt.

  Suddenly, she stops, eyes widening. “Holy shit. I know you,” she whispers, covering up a gasp. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t say anything, but holy shit, I love The Crash so much—”

  “Thanks,” I say, trying not to sound annoyed. Maybe I should’ve gone to the planetarium. I definitely would’ve been thinking about Piper there.

  Jazmine bites her lower lip, stepping closer. “If you want something more than a dance… We’re not supposed to do anything for free, but I’m a big fan,” she says, eyes darting down to my crotch. “You want me to suck your dick?”

  It’s not the first time I’ve gotten this kind of proposition, but it’s the first time my dick has had zero interest. Not even a little twitch.

  “I appreciate the offer, but I think this was a mistake,” I say, giving her a sizable tip before I push past her, stalking out of the club in a worse mood than I was when I came in.

  How am I supposed to get Piper out of my head if I can’t even stir up a little bit of interest in anyone else?

  I need distraction, and there’s no one better at that than Ace.

  “My liege,” he answers.

  “What’re you doing? Come keep me company.”

  “Yeah, of course!” he says, enthusiastic as always. Ace is a good friend for that. You can always count on him to be a good yes-man. “But you’re going to have to come to me. I’m leaving for Atlantic City. Hop on this jet—wheels up in sixty.”

  He sends me the information for his airstrip, and I make it with ten minutes to spare. Of course, that means I didn’t have time to pack anything, but that’s a problem for when I’m in New Jersey.

  “Already getting stir-crazy stuck in one town?” Ace asks once we’re sipping drinks at cruising altitude. “I told Jack you’d never survive that residency shit. You’re like me; we need to be out in the world, living, experiencing everything. Let Asher and Jack put down roots with property and family,” he scoffs, smiling as he shakes his head.

  “Yeah,” I mutter, looking at my phone. I should text her. Try to patch things up. Tell her I can be casual if that’s the only way I get to see her.

  God, I’m pathetic.

  I shouldn’t be texting in the plane anyway. It’s a good excuse to keep me from doing something stupid.

  “Have you been to A.C. before?” he asks, not picking up on my sour mood. Ace isn’t always the brightest bulb around, but that’s not always a bad thing.

  How he can be so good at reading people at the poker table and so bad at reading his friends, I’ll never understand.

  “I don’t think I’ve played a show there.”

  “Oh man, you’ll love it. The girls are wild. Anything you want. Weird shit,” he says, laughing. “And I’m there all the time, so they know me. Treat me real good.”

  “Someone has to.” I try to laugh too, but it comes out more of a wheeze. I can’t even fake it. Thankfully, Ace is still oblivious, fiddling with the sound system until the cabin of the jet sounds like a nightclub. He keeps the drinks flowing, filling the silence with stories of past tournaments and exploits—I’ve heard most of them. Hell, I was there for a few of them, but I let him talk anyway. It’s nice to not have the focus on me and my shit for a while.

  In less than five hours, we’re on the opposite side of the country, and it’s already nearly midnight. There are still plenty of people walking around the boardwalk, lots of neon lights and girls in dresses that are so short they might as well be shirts. It’s certainly no Vegas, but right now, that’s a plus. Right now, it feels good to be away from the familiar.

  Away from the temptation.

  The urge to go see Piper is thrumming through my veins every second back in Vegas. At least out here I’m almost able to ignore it.

  If it’s at all possible for me to find the distractions I need, this has to be the place for it.

  I check my phone while he’s checking into the room—the penthouse suite is big enough for the both of us—and I’m quick to put it away when he turns around, but I think he’s suspicious.

  He sends his bag up with a bellhop, then grabs my elbow, steering me out toward the street.

  “Aren’t we going up to the room?” I ask, glancing back toward the elevator.

  Ace laughs. “You think I brought you all the way out here just so you can sleep in my suite? Fuck that; we’re going to party.”

  “Party?” I echo, dread starting to build. I don’t know if I have the energy left for partying after the day I’ve had, that long flight, and the half-bottle of whiskey sloshing around in my gut.

  “Yeah, partying. Remember it?” Ace asks, looking more concerned while the concierge gets us a cab. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but we’re going to fix you right up. Don’t you worry, bud,” he says, marching me ahead of him with a purpose.

  And that’s how I end up at my second strip club for the day.

  It’s not the kind of discreet, out of the way place I went to earlier. This club is right in the heart of things, music pouring into the street, girls on the sidewalk passing out fliers for free drinks, and velvet ropes leading up to the door.

  There’s still a shabbiness to it that would never pass muster on the Vegas strip, but it looks like the best Atlantic City has to offer—which is still impressive considering all they’ve been through.

  One thing for sure, it’s the kind of place where people go to be seen, which is the last thing I’m looking for.

  “Ace, I don’t think—”

  “When has thinking ever done anyone any good?”

  “Aren’t you the one always talking about how poker is about skill and not luck of the draw?”

  “Don’t use my own words against me,” he huffs. “You need some brain-free time. Tell me I’m wrong.”

  I hesitate for a long minute, but the exhaustion and alcohol have worn me down. I can’t fight him forever.

  “You’re not wrong,” I grumble. “And if anyone would know about being brain-free, it’s you.”

  It takes him a second to catch the jab, but then he punches my arm, laughing. “Asshole.”

  He doesn’t slip anyone a bribe for a good, quiet seat. Ace doesn’t have to worry about being recognized out in public like I do—not that I expect anyone in the world to find me here—so he’s happy to sit out in the open where he can court the attention of exotic dancers. Even though we’re not sequestered in a dark corner, we have a semi-private booth, with big, plush couches I’d never want to see under blacklight. There’s a table in the middle for drinks, but plenty of space for the girls to move through.

  Our asses haven’t even hit the seats when there’s a girl in a bikini top and jean cut-off shorts ready to take our drink order.

  Ace is quick to order a couple of bottles, which is enough to get the word out to the dancers. There are two who start to make their way over to us, but only one of them makes it across the club without getting waylaid.

  That’s when Ace brings out his wallet, flashing a wad of cash around like he’s in a music video—he wishes.

  The busty brunette immediately sashays over to him, keeping the beat with the music, her long ponytail bouncing in opposite time. It’s the same kind of high, tight ponytail Piper puts her hair in when she doesn’t have time for messing with it. But Piper’s hair isn’t that dull, stick brown. Hers is a rich, warm auburn that’s verging on red in the right light.

  “Hey, baby,” the dancer says, sliding in closer, dancing right between Ace’s spread legs.

  He grins over at me, but I am not encouraging this. I want nothing to do with strippers and private dancers after my earlier experiment. That doesn’t s
top Ace. I’m not sure anything could stop Ace. He fans out the bills in his hand, showing her what he had, then he folds the stack together and slides it into her top.

  “This is my friend,” he says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “He could use a distraction. Think you could help us out?”

  She looks me over, her expression hard to read under all the make-up and glitter, then back to him, leaning in so her breasts are almost touching his face. “Both of you?”

  Ace’s brows go up, then he looks at me. The bottles have arrived, he has tits in his face, and he’s really ready to party.

  “No,” I answer, standing up.

  “Wait, she’ll do one at a time,” he says. “Won’t you, honey?”

  “Oh, I’m not Honey. She’s not working tonight.”

  “I’m good, man. I don’t want to ruin your night,” I say, still moving away from the table. There’s no way I can get my head in the game to even come close to acting normal. The guy who liked doing this stuff with Ace is gone; I don’t even know how to pretend to be him anymore. “Enjoy,” I tell him, heading out of yet another strip club, my pissy mood persistent as ever. So much for getting Piper out of my head.

  When Ace catches up to me, I’m looking at my phone again, thinking about texting her.

  Even on the opposite side of the country, I can’t stop thinking about her. I can’t stop wanting to be with her. She’s burrowed in so deep I’m not sure I’ll ever get her out.

  “Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on?” Ace asks, raising his voice enough that some people walking by turn their heads to stare. I turn away, hoping no one recognizes me.

  That’s the last thing I need.

  What I need is to bury my face between Piper’s thighs until she’s grabbing the back of my head and face-fucking me.

  I need to bend her over her desk and make her scream so loud security comes to check on us.

  But I’m in fucking New Jersey.

  “Does this have anything to do with what I was interrupting the other day?” he asks, surprisingly observant for Ace.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I mutter. Even if I did, I can’t. Why did I ever think it would be easy to keep this secret?

  “Okay, if you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t need this,” he says, taking my phone. Before I can say or do anything, it’s soaring through the night sky, right over the edge of the boardwalk, and landing in the water with a splash so soft we can’t even hear it. “And now you can stop worrying about it.”

  The shock only lasts for a moment before the numbness sinks in. I’m not even mad at him. It’s not the first time Ace has done something like this, but it’s probably the first time I’ve agreed with him over the choice.

  I do need to stop worrying and let it go. Calling or texting Piper will only make things worse. And knowing how much Ace and I generally drink when we’re together—how much we’ve already drank—he’s probably saving me from making a complete ass of myself.

  He’s a better friend than I give him credit for.

  I rest my elbows on the railing of the boardwalk and stare out at the ocean, soaking in the fishy, salty air.

  “You okay, man?” Ace asks, clapping a hand on my back.

  I take a deep breath, then sigh. “Yeah,” I answer. It’s all I can say; I wish it didn’t have to be this way. How bad could it really be if I just confessed to Jack? What if I could make him understand this isn’t just fucking with her—it’s so much more? Could I make him see that fooling around with her opened the door for bigger feelings?

  It sounds crazy even to me. King? With feelings?

  But that’s what makes it feel so much more precious. I’m not sure there’ll ever be another woman who makes me feel this way.

  He’d have to understand that, right?

  Doesn’t he want his sister to be happy?

  Do I really think I’m who is going to make her happy?

  Ace leans on the railing with me, both of us watching the horizon and the fading stars in amicable silence.

  With Ace here and everyone else three thousand miles away, I’m very tempted to tell him everything. It’d be nice to have someone in my corner for a change.

  But what if he’s on their side? What if he doesn’t think I’m good enough for Piper either?

  I can’t risk it. I can’t let Ace be the one to break the news to Jack. That’ll destroy our friendship before I ever get him to hear me out.

  Honestly, after how she reacted today, I’m not even sure I can make Piper happy. I’ve tried to play by her rules, I’ve tried to follow her lead, but the second I make a move for something more, she backs away so fast it makes my head spin.

  Maybe this is the inevitable outcome, and I need to read the writing on the wall.

  One thing’s for sure: I’m done thinking about any of it until I’m back in Nevada, and I know exactly what to say to Ace to get him back on board.

  I straighten, roll my shoulders back, and plaster on a trademark King Dorsey grin. “Let’s go hit the tables.”

  Chapter 13

  Piper

  Working from home has lost its appeal. After three days of trying it out, I’m already over it. I keep hoping for King to jump my fence again and drag me off to another adventure, but that’s not happening.

  His next shows aren’t until the weekend, so there’s no reason for us to run into each other.

  I haven’t even heard from him since he brought me back from his grandma’s. What did I expect? I wasn’t exactly nice to him.

  Okay, I was a complete bitch about it. King didn’t deserve that, and I’ve felt guilty about it ever since.

  He won’t answer any of my texts, so what am I supposed to do?

  Show up and bang on his door at The Grandiose?

  No.

  His silent treatment serves me right. I can’t expect to keep being cold and uncompromising if I also want to be likable. Why should he forgive me? I’ve been fighting him every step of the way, trying to find the limit of his persistence.

  Congratulations, Piper, you got what you wanted and played yourself.

  I wish it wasn’t true. Playing over everything he said again and again has given me a lot of time to think. To reflect about our dates and rendezvous. About how much he makes me laugh, how he understands my body and my mind more than anyone else. I miss our lunch dates, our flirty texts, and uncovering new layers of King’s personality I didn’t know existed.

  I’ve realized I might actually love the bastard, and now I’m probably too late to do anything about it.

  Sitting at home alone with nothing to distract me from feeling sorry for myself is the complete opposite of the mental health day I had in mind when I started working from home. At least if I go into the office I have to shower, fix my hair, and put on a brave face.

  If nothing else does, the fact that I’ve been moping for three days just because I haven’t heard from him should prove that I’ve got it bad.

  It does feel good to be back out in the world again, though. The petty annoyances of traffic are a nice distraction, and once I’m back in The Grandiose, I feel at home.

  Things might be off the rails in all the other aspects of my life, but under this roof, I’m in control.

  Even though it’s afternoon, I head to the breakroom for coffee, hoping for a little extra fortification before I go face the mountain of things I’ve been avoiding.

  There are a few people having lunch, and at least one dealer who looks like he’s been here since last night, snoring on an armchair in the corner under the TV.

  “Oh, hey! You’re back,” Ellie says, abandoning her salad to come talk to me. Normally I don’t mind running into my brother’s girlfriend, but I’m not sure I have the fortitude today.

  “I am,” I answer. Maybe the shortness of my answer will be a clue I don’t want to talk.

  “Feeling refreshed?” she asks, still too chipper to have read me at all.

  “Not exactly,” I a
dmit, watching the cappuccino machine, tapping my foot.

  Ellie finally gets the hint, frowning. “I’m sure you’re busy right now. Why don’t we do dinner tonight?”

  “I—” I scramble to come up with an excuse while Ellie barrels ahead.

  “You don’t have plans, do you?”

  “Uh, not exactly—”

  “Great! How about Panaca at eight?”

  “Is Jack paying?” Panaca is our high-end steakhouse that even I don’t try to get a table at. Of course, Jack can go anywhere he wants, whenever he wants, and it seems Ellie’s starting to get accustomed to it.

  Ellie laughs, shaking her head at me. “See you there?”

  Guess I don’t get much of a say in the matter.

  “Yeah, sure,” I sigh. Now my cappuccino is finished. Great timing.

  Typically, being busy makes the day go by faster.

  Not today.

  Today, the endless mountain of tasks I have to complete gets in the way of me checking my phone to see if King’s finally responded.

  He hasn’t.

  Not even once.

  I should stop checking. He’s not going to.

  I told him to get over me, and he has. It’s my fault.

  A little before eight, I head down to the restaurant to meet Jack and Ellie. This dinner feels like a terrible idea, but I’ve been making a string of bad decisions lately, so what’s one more?

  They’re already seated, wine poured for the table. I’ve been to Panaca before, but it’s not familiar like the other restaurants and bars on property. There’s a quiet, classic ambiance—white linen tablecloths, flickering candlelight, waiters in starched shirts and bowties—but there’s still a little bit of Vegas. The entire ceiling is tiled with antiqued mirrors, and there are golden chandeliers scattered throughout.

  “Hey, stranger,” Jack says brightly. “I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you.”

  I roll my eyes, sitting across from him. “I was working from home for three days.”

  His expression falls a little. “Yeah, I heard. Mental health days?” he asks skeptically.

  I shrug. “Figured I deserved it after you dropped all that extra work in my lap.”