The Hothead

by Myra Scott

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One - Gage

  Chapter Two - Gage

  Chapter Three - Devin

  Chapter Four - Gage

  Chapter Five - Devin

  Chapter 6 - Gage

  Chapter Seven - Devin

  Chapter 8 - Gage

  Chapter Nine - Gage

  Chapter Ten - Devin

  Chapter Eleven - Gage

  Chapter Twelve - Gage

  Chapter Thirteen - Gage

  Chapter Fourteen - Devin

  Chapter Fifteen - Gage

  Chapter Sixteen - Gage

  Chapter Seventeen - Gage

  Epilogue - Devin

  Excerpt From The Protector

  Also By Myra Scott

  THE HOTHEAD

  By Myra Scott

  The Hothead

  Sin City Sentries – Book Three

  Copyright 2018 by Myra Scott

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, redistributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in any database, without prior permission from the author.

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. All characters are 18+ and all situations are consensual.

  Sign up here to be updated with new releases, cover reveals, and special events. No spam ever. Guaranteed.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter One - Gage

  Chapter Two - Gage

  Chapter Three - Devin

  Chapter Four - Gage

  Chapter Five - Devin

  Chapter 6 - Gage

  Chapter Seven - Devin

  Chapter 8 - Gage

  Chapter Nine - Gage

  Chapter Ten - Devin

  Chapter Eleven - Gage

  Chapter Twelve - Gage

  Chapter Thirteen - Gage

  Chapter Fourteen - Devin

  Chapter Fifteen - Gage

  Chapter Sixteen - Gage

  Chapter Seventeen - Gage

  Epilogue - Devin

  Excerpt From The Protector

  Also By Myra Scott

  The Hothead

  CHAPTER ONE - GAGE

  My tailored, dark indigo Prada suit hung perfectly on my shoulders. My crisp white shirt was spotless, and I adjusted my teal paisley tie as I stepped out onto the casino floor for yet another night of raking in more money than we knew what to do with.

  It was Friday night at the Sentry Casino, and as co-owner and head of gambling, it was my job to make sure the dice kept rolling and the money kept moving.

  And if there was one thing I knew, it’s that I was good at my job.

  The lights above me shone bright and lit up the whole sin-filled room as I made my way through. The red carpeting was spotless, and the sounds of coins and liquor glasses clinking together was like music to my ears.

  The security guards I passed gave me respectful nods. One even greeted me with a curt yet polite “Mr. Taylor,” and I returned a smile.

  Be as charming as Zane and as stoic as Mick. That was my philosophy, and I thought I did a damn fine job with it.

  The casino was crowded with the usual mix. Some were young college students out on their first nights away from home in a real casino. Some were retirees just out for some casual fun. Some were young adults with steely eyes and something to prove. Others were just here to flirt with each other and have a good time.

  No matter what brought people to the casino, they always ended up pouring their money into the tables, whether they were big spenders or just casual gamers. And all of that was a recipe for chaos.

  I started making the usual rounds with the pit bosses. We were short staffed tonight, to nobody’s surprise, so every employee was a little stressed out. Part of my job was to make sure that they didn’t get too stressed out.

  “Scott,” I said to one of my pit bosses with a curt nod. He gave me a tired smile as I approached. “Let’s hear it. Any incidents so far?”

  “Two drunks thrown out already, Mr. Taylor,” he said, smirking over at the security guards, who returned a thumbs-up. “And I got to get chewed out by Mr. Felder again. Apparently, the lights are too bright.”

  We chuckled to each other while I shook my head. Mr. Felder was an older gambler who had a new complaint every week, despite how much he presented himself as a kindly old man. We were used to him, though, like a lot of our regulars.

  “Keep an eye on the blackjack tables, though,” Scott said with a gesture in that direction. “I get a bad vibe from some of the new faces over there.”

  “I’ll do a round that way next,” I agreed and patted Scott on the shoulder. At about that time, I noticed a pair of regular high rollers stepping through the casino doors, and I raised my eyebrows at Scott. “Right after I go chat up some of our moneymakers, that is.”

  Scott grinned at me and shook his head. “They don’t pay you enough to schmooze, Gage, you know that?”

  I grinned back and winked at him as I went to go tend to our guests.

  Catering to the very rich was a delicate tightrope, but it was part of my job. I was an average guy from a single parent household in Tallahassee, not some ritzy socialite from Monaco. Talking the talk with these types was kind of like acting, and there was something comforting about that.

  Putting on a mask was always easier than facing reality.

  “Mr. and Mrs. De Palma!” I greeted them, and their familiar faces turned to give me their usual fake smiles. Mr. De Palma was an Italian man from Milan, and his leathery skin and white hair showed his age. He wore the same Armani suit he always did when he came to the Sentry.

  Mrs. De Palma was a girl about half his age, sporting a large fur coat and some of the most exclusive perfume I’ve ever had waft past me in all my years in the casino.

  “Gage, it’s always a pleasure,” Mr. De Palma said, and I greeted the two of them with a kiss on each cheek.

  “I haven’t seen you in a few weeks, just stopping in between business trips?” I asked.

  “Oh no,” he said with a laugh, “we’re staying for a few days this time. Sandra here heard about the new nightclub between here and La Torre was finally open, so we decided to come see how the conjoined casinos worked with each other.” Sandra nodded in agreement with a smile that could melt the heart of any straight man.

  “The answer so far is ‘very well,’ I’m happy to say,” I said proudly. “Make sure to stop by the VIP room. We have a selection of gins just in from Scotland only served in there that I think you and your wife will appreciate.”

  “I do love a good gin,” Mrs. De Palma mused, and her husband grinned down at her.

  “We won’t waste any time then. A pleasure as always, Gage,” he said to me, and I waved the two of them off before moving on to the next group of guests.

  I normally went by ‘Mr. Taylor’ to people who didn’t know me personally, but a few of the older guests, especially the rich ones, liked the chance to pretend to be old friends with near strangers. It was an odd thing I found rich people to really like, so I rolled with it.

  I made my way over to the blackjack tables, where sure enough, one of the pit bosses was supervising an argument between a guest and two of the security guards.

  “Steph,” I said, sweeping in beside my pit boss, a burly woman who glanced over her shoulder at me. “What’s the problem here?”

  “Card counting,” she muttered to me under her breath, nodding to the scrawny guy pleading his case to the security guard. “Dealer’s been watching this
guy for three days. He’s good, but he doesn’t know how to keep a low profile.”

  “You trust the dealer’s word, then?” I asked, eyeing the accused guest.

  “No doubt,” she affirmed with a nod. “One of my best sets of eyes. Shame, this kid’s smart—if he’d picked one of the newly hired dealers, he might have finished his week here without getting caught.”

  “Who counts cards at the same dealer all week?” I mused out loud, shaking my head and running a hand through my short red hair.

  “Math majors who show up alone with something to prove,” she said with a chuckle, and I crossed my arms, grinning.

  “Isn’t your girlfriend a Math major?”

  “Yeah, that’s why I get to tease about it,” she said.

  I gave a laugh before squeezing her on the shoulder and gesturing to the kid. “Send him packing but refund any nights he has left in the hotel. Put a warning on his card so we can keep a better eye on him next time.”

  “You got it, boss,” she grunted, and I moved on.

  Managing the pit bosses was like whack-a-mole. Problems sprang up, and if I just happened to be in the right place at the right time and kept my eyes sharp, I could sweep in and take care of the problem in a flash.

  My tall stature, broad shoulders, and piercing eyes made sure that people listened to me. I dressed the way I did and kept myself charming and reserved because it took care of problems. I wasn’t quite like Zane—my smiles weren’t all just a ploy to keep people from realizing just how ambitious I was. I just found that a little sincerity and building real loyalty went a long way in this business.

  But speaking of Zane…

  As I made my way to the craps tables, I saw that another of the Sentry’s four co-owners was already there, chatting up some of the well-dressed gamblers, the CEO who brought us all together in the first place.

  And he was standing hand-in-hand with his new, passionate boyfriend, Diego Castillo.

  I stopped in my tracks on the casino floor, and I watched them for a moment. The two of them had gotten together during negotiations for the massive bridge that now connected our two casinos. Diego ran La Torre, our former rival that was draining our income faster than a national news scandal. Once Zane set eyes on him, there was no keeping them apart from each other…

  No matter how badly it hurt me.

  I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter.

  I tried to stuff my feelings deeper down inside me.

  I tried to remind myself that Zane was happy with Diego.

  But none of that stopped the simple fact that every time I saw the two of them together, holding hands and chatting happily like their lives were complete, it hurt like an arrow through the heart.

  Because my heart had been melting for Zane since the moment we first met.

  It all started on that damned year abroad in Madrid where the four of us met. Me, Zane, Bart, and Mick had all ended up drinking at the same bar not far from the university, and we all recognized each other’s American accents. Americans aren’t that rare in Madrid, but we had all been at the bar at the same time, perfect strangers.

  We all started talking immediately, because obviously four gay American men meeting each other in the same place had to be serendipity, and we were all fast friends before the night was over.

  Zane was something special though.

  He bought me my drinks that night, knew what I liked just by taking one look at me. The way the dim light of the bar caught his eyes, the way he ran his hand through his hair the few times he got flustered, it all set my heart beating fast.

  I couldn’t get enough of him. I loved every minute we spent together, but back then, I had been too damn shy to speak up.

  Sometimes I wondered if Zane knew I had a crush on him. If he did, he was a cruel man. If he didn’t, I couldn’t blame him.

  Zane had been the one to call us all up later on in life and get us together to own this casino as a team. I jumped at the chance. He could have just asked me to be a bartender at his casino, and I’d have been there.

  But once we were coworkers, I got nervous. If I tried to make a move on him and it didn’t go well, it would have made a good thing awkward. Now, I was kicking myself for not making a move soon enough.

  It broke my heart when I heard that he and Diego had slept together, much less professed their love for each other and gone public.

  I was happy for them, sure, but only as happy as I could make myself, knowing that Zane’s heart belonged to the Spaniard.

  That left me here, with the casino floor. I liked my job, and I was good at it, there was no doubt about that. But damn, did it ever get lonely up here.

  I turned and made my way to the nearest bar, which wasn’t far off. The bartender saw me approaching with a storm cloud over my head, and he quickly pulled down a bottle of top-shelf tequila.

  “The usual Paloma, sir?” he asked, and I cracked a smile.

  “Please,” I said. Within seconds, there was a beautifully poured pink drink in front of me, and I slid the bartender a $50 as a tip. I took care of my bartenders.

  But even the taste of the agave and the bite of the alcohol didn’t do much to settle my thoughts down. The more I drained my glass when I should have been patrolling the floor, the more I thought about all the trouble Diego was causing us.

  The casino was busier than ever, but we just weren’t equipped to handle the influx of people. The money was good, sure, but if our operations kept falling apart at the seams, it wouldn’t be worth it in the long run. Mick and I had discussed the high staff turnover already; Bart was up to his neck in complaints; and lord knew I was running around like a chicken with its head cut off on busy nights like this.

  …when I wasn’t blunting my sorrows with a stiff drink on break, that is.

  I was halfway through my drink before I knew it. I tried to keep my eyes on my phone, scrolling through social media, but my feed was full of pictures from Zane’s profile, posing romantically with Diego at the casino, in their offices, and even on business trips.

  I sighed and put my phone away, only to see Zane and Diego chatting with the De Palmas, all four of them laughing naturally and comfortably.

  I couldn’t stand it anymore.

  This had to stop, even if I had to be the one to make it happen.

  CHAPTER TWO - GAGE

  I leaned against the bar, a second tall, icy Paloma sitting on a napkin next to me while I drummed my fingers on my crossed arms, staring out the window of the meeting room.

  Our private meeting room was a spacious luxury lounge that would put most VIP rooms to shame. Besides the fully stocked bar stuffed with top-shelf liquors from around the world, the elegant room featured a piano and a large black coffee table with couches around it, and a panoramic view of Vegas from the wall of windows that made up the side of the room opposite me.

  It was beautiful, and it was where the four of us had our best and worst times. It had been in here that we’d celebrated our first million at the Sentry, and it was here that we settled disputes.

  And one such dispute was exactly why I had called a last-minute staff meeting this evening.

  Bart threw the door open first, his long Texan stride carrying him in with purpose and authority. He gave me a wave as soon as he saw me, and I reached behind the bar and poured a glass of whisky for him before he’d even crossed the room.

  “You know me too well, Gage,” he said with a chuckle in that accent of his. Even though my mood was anything but cheerful, I couldn’t help but crack a smile. As the only two southerners of our group, we shared an appreciation for each other the others didn’t quite have, not in the same way.

  Besides, ever since Mick got together with his new boyfriend Eric, that meant that Bart and I were the only two singles left out of our group. Solidarity was important, even if the grizzled bear that he wa
s would never admit being bitter about being single. As long as he had his whisky and whatever he did for his hobbies, he’d be happy as a clam and grumpy as a grizzly.

  “You’ll need it,” I said, and just in time, Mick and Zane appeared after him.

  “What’s this about, Gage?” Zane asked right off the bat. The fierceness that man could put off was thrilling, but I was controlling myself by now—I didn’t blush like a freshman anymore when he got sharp with me. “It’s nearly midnight on a Friday, we should all be downstairs right now.”

  Mick, the quiet one, took his usual stoic seat across from Bart on the couch, while Zane stood over the coffee table, arms crossed. I held my ground at the bar.

  “Don’t assume I don’t know that, I’ve been working the floor all night understaffed and overworked,” I said, maybe a little more sharply than necessary. “This is urgent, and it affects all of us.”

  “Well, we’re all ears,” Mick said, leaning back in his seat. It was good to see him a little more relaxed than he used to be. I felt bad for dragging him into this, given all the good things that have only just come into his life so soon.

  But this wasn’t just a personal grudge. There was some professional basis to what I was about to bring up. That’s what I told myself, at least.

  “It’s about the flood of business we’ve been getting,” I started, making eye contact with each person in the room and gauging their reactions. Zane looked mildly surprised.

  “You say that like you think it’s a bad thing,” he said with a little apprehension in his voice.

  “It shouldn’t be,” I admitted, “but the fact of the matter is, we as a casino are not equipped to handle this level of business. Something needs to change.”

  Zane’s eyes widened, and the others quirked eyebrows at me.

  “What are you talking about, Gage?” Zane asked.

  “I’m talking about ending our relationship with La Torre.”

  Zane’s jaw dropped, Bart’s eyebrows went up, and even Mick furrowed his in surprise at my statement. On a day-to-day basis, I tried to keep myself as composed as Mick, but sometimes I couldn’t keep my emotions as organized as he could.