All In (Caldwell Brothers Book 5)

by Colleen Charles

  I expect Joslyn to back down at my sarcasm, but instead, she holds her head high and sniffs, tilting her chin in the air.

  “No,” she says, shaking her head. “I expected you to adapt to the scenario in front of you.” She steps closer, and before I can move back, her hands slap my shoulders. Joslyn shoves me and I fall back a step, mostly from surprise.

  “Stop this!” Nixon says, finally losing it. He leaps up from behind his desk and runs over to us, grabbing Joslyn’s wrists and pulling them off my shoulders. “Cut it out, Joslyn, Troy! Both of you. Shit, you’d think I was dealing with Lincoln and his grade-school buddies. This is a fucking place of business.”

  Joslyn sighs and steps back, but she still glares at me, refusing to stand down even one inch. “I don’t see why I should have to work with such a pussy.”

  “If I hear that word one more time, I won’t even consider renewing your lease,” Nixon snaps. Joslyn’s face goes white, but she clamps her lips together.

  “And you too.” Nixon turns to me and points a finger. “This is up to you, Troy.”

  I frown. “What the fuck, man? What did I do? You heard her.”

  “No,” he says. “That’s not what I meant. Troy, if you’re going to prove to me that you’re a leader, this is where you’re going to start. Got it? Lead her.”

  “What? No, I don’t understand.” I shake my head. “She refuses to work with me anymore – you heard her! Hell, half of Las Vegas probably heard her.”

  “I am not working with him anymore!” Joslyn growls. “I want a real man.”

  Nixon turns to her and puts his hands on his hips. A shot of adrenaline rips through me because I’ve never seen him do that before. “This is your only option.” Now that he’s started to relax, he sounds almost smug. “And I’m not sending anyone else over. You have to learn how to work together.”

  “But, I can’t, he’s–”

  “Joslyn!” Nixon says sharply. “I know you’re used to getting your own way. I know you think you’re the biggest badass on this side of the Strip. But unless you can learn to deal with Troy, I’m not going to help you anymore. Do you understand?”

  Joslyn bristles like a wet cat, but she gives a brief jerk of her head.

  “And you, Troy.” Nixon turns to me again. “Start with her. Show me that you have leadership qualities. Be the kind of man she wants you to be, and learn how to work harmoniously.”

  “He’s not good enough,” Joslyn interjects. “He’s not nearly on my level! The other girls will be able to kill him in like, three seconds!” She turns to me with a cocky smirk on her face. “And frankly, I look forward to it.”

  “Too bad.” Nixon’s voice drips icicles. “We’re all adults, and I’m not dealing with this bullshit drama anymore. You wanted a man, you got one. And you’re not getting another.”

  I’ve never been so insulted in my entire life, but there’s no way I’m going to let Joslyn know that in front of Nixon.

  “I don’t get it,” I say, turning to her. “What exactly did you want me to do? Beat the shit out of you?”

  “I wanted you to be a worthy adversary.” Joslyn’s cheeks flame bright red, and her lips moisten. I’ve never wanted to kiss her as badly as I do in this moment, even if I’m struggling in the lonely black void between lust and anger.

  “Oh.” I smirk, grabbing the waistband of my pants, threatening to tug them down. “I am a man, honey. Want me to prove it to you?”

  When Joslyn’s fist meets the side of my face, I see cartoon stars spinning in wild circles around my head. It takes everything inside me not to hit her back, but I refrain.

  “Fuck you,” Joslyn snarls. She turns to Nixon, her eyes blazing with rage. “I’ll give him one more shot. But only because of your threat. And I like your wife.”

  And with that, she whirls around and stalks out of Nixon’s office.

  “I’m sorry about that.” I watch her fine ass until it’s no longer visible. “I’m not sure what I did to piss her off to the extreme.”

  Nixon sighs heavily, like the weight of the world lays suspended on his broad shoulders. He sits down behind his desk and shakes his head.

  “Look, Troy. Shit. We’re thirty years old.”

  I wince. A lecture’s coming. One I’m not going to like. “So?”

  “Right…” Nixon pinches the bridge of his nose. “And like I’ve told you before, you’re like a brother to me, but you can’t keep coming to me with these problems. You’ve gotta learn how to work this shit out on your own. Got it?”

  Rage flared, and I bit it back down. “I didn’t run anywhere. She’s the one who came running to you like a spoiled brat.” I stare at him like I don’t even know him anymore. If this is his version of tough love, it sucks.

  “Yes, and it’s now your job to work with her, and to make her behave,” Nixon says. “Joslyn is a great trainer. The best. And I want the best on The Promenade. Make it work.”

  I grit my teeth. “I’ll get right on it.” At this point, the only thing I think might work to soften the bristly bitch is to get on top of her.

  Nixon raises his eyebrow at me, and I clamp my lips together.

  “She thinks you’re deliberately baiting her by holding back. Well, I know what you’re capable of, Troy. Just like she’s the best, so are you. And now you’ve just got to prove it to her – and to yourself.” Nixon’s lecture sparkles with all the wisdom of a late-night television evangelist. “I know you can do it. I know you can get her in your corner.”

  I’m not so sure. Dealing with women hasn’t been high on my list of priorities. They’re good as a receptacle for my cock, and that’s about it. Shit, I’ve never been in a long-term relationship, so I’ve never developed emotional intelligence. I don’t know how to talk to this spitfire. Working with Joslyn, despite her insanely hot looks, will be about as much fun as wrangling a pit full of vipers.

  “I feel like Indiana Jones in the goddamned snake pit whenever I’m around her,” I reply.

  A semblance of a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, and I’m relieved the lecture part appears to be over. “Then you’re going to have a way to change that, now won’t you? You do know how to charm a snake?”

  I groan. I know he’s right – but it’s seriously the last thing I want to do.

  “I don’t own a flute,” I quip.

  When the door bursts open again after a sharp knock, I expect to see Joslyn storming in waving her Feminist Bill of Rights. Instead, Dante Giovanetti strolls inside, his face a ruddy explosion of crimson. His custom Armani suit is creased with wrinkles and damp with sweat. The aroma of cognac and cigars trails in after his hulking presence, and a wave of dislike washes over me.

  Nixon raises an eyebrow. “Seems like my office is rather popular today.” He eyes Dante with a curious yet wary look. “What do you want?”

  Dante doesn’t even acknowledge me as he storms in and stands right in front of Nixon’s desk, glaring down.

  “If you think you and that asshole lawyer brother of yours are going to take over the Mona Lisa, I’ve got one fucking thing to tell you.” Dante shakes under the force of his obvious rage. His face turns nearly purple as he speaks.

  “Oh, and let me guess,” Nixon says sarcastically. “It will be over your dead body? Don’t even think that can’t be arranged.”

  Dante seethes and practically foams at the mouth. “I’ve put up with your little stunts for far too long. And this time, I’m not going to let you walk all over me.”

  Walk all over him?

  Nixon makes a face of innocence. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, exactly. Care to elaborate? Seems to me you’ve been at the back end of most of the recent shit shows I’ve attended.”

  His casual remark makes Dante quake. I watch the lapels of his suit waver back and forth as if he might explode into a quivering mass of Italian piss and vinegar. I might be enjoying this more if that happens. He looks like his head could pop off his body

  “You know
exactly what I’m talking about,” Dante hisses. “And no, I don’t care to repeat myself.” He takes a huge, deep breath, and suddenly, I’m reminded of a bull about to charge. Between Joslyn and Dante, I’ve had about all the bellicose anger I can take in one day.

  As Dante and Nixon remain locked in a passive-aggressive battle of wills, I watch the bastard closely. I know Nixon’s a tough guy, and he can take care of himself…but Dante Giovanetti defines the phrase ‘loose cannon,’ and I won’t risk it. If Nixon wants me to take leadership seriously, I can start right now.

  “If you think you’ve got the gaming commission vote, I’m here to tell you that you’re sadly mistaken,” Dante continues. He stands back and puffs out his enormous chest, crossing his beefy arms and straining the sleeves of the expensive wool. “And you’re not getting the Mona Lisa – not even over my dead body. If you think you’ve got the teeny-weeny balls to take me down, whelp, bring it.”

  Nixon snorts. He stands up and takes a drink of water from a Perrier bottle at the corner of his desk.

  “You know what, Dante?” Nixon asks in a soft, dangerous voice. “I don’t care. I don’t care what the fuck you think you’re doing by threatening me, but I can tell you that Troy here is a witness – and if you make any more empty threats, I’m going to make sure you never see the inside of your tacky little casino ever again.”

  Dante quivers but doesn’t reply.

  “And as far as the gaming commission and the Mona Lisa,” Nixon says, shaking his head and chuckling to himself. “You can fuck right off.”

  Dante’s eyes bulge out of his head, and I can see the blind, pure rage in his pupils.

  “You’re going to regret this!” Dante growls so loud, it rattles the pencils on Nixon’s desk. “I swear to god, Caldwell, you’re going to regret this.”

  “Maybe you can bake a cake to mark the occasion.”

  Chapter Seven

  Joslyn

  After my disastrous interaction with Nixon, I need to blow off a little steam. Normally, teaching a self-defense class makes me feel worn out for the day…or at least well-exercised. But today, I bristle with angry energy, and I don’t know what to do with it. I leave the city and drive out to my house, a little spread I bought just outside of Vegas. No one understands why I don’t want some luxury condo on the Strip…at least, not until they see my house. It’s not much, but the huge property houses my important hobby. I took advantage of the desert terrain and made an American Ninja Warrior obstacle course. When people see that, they usually shut up.

  But I don’t feel like training at home today. I drive out into the desert, park my car, and strap on my Camelbak for a long run in the dry heat. The sun shines overhead, and it soothes me as I start to drain the negative emotions with a steady stream of sweat. By the time I’ve run fifteen miles, my anger disappears into the desert like a mirage. New blisters line my heels, and my hair plasters against my scalp, but I feel pure and clean, the way I always do right after a long workout. Nothing like sweating out the toxins.

  After my run, I drive home and take a long shower. I know some people always complain about being sore and achy after arduous exercise, but I feel nothing but pride and happiness in my stiff body. I take a long time under the hot water, soaping my limbs and trying to push all thoughts of the incredibly annoying Troy Cass out of my head. I can’t believe he tried to weasel out of working with me.

  Pussy. Boy.

  And I can’t believe Nixon Caldwell, that rat bastard. I’ve always liked Nixon, but after today’s meeting, I’m still feeling a lot of resentment. I can’t believe he expects me to whip that pussy into shape…even I can’t work fucking miracles. Troy Cass has been nothing but a disappointment. When I first saw him, I thought he was incredible. Tall and hunky and muscular. But now that I’ve been around him for more than five minutes, I realize he’s as useless as a wobbling toddler.

  By the late afternoon, exhaustion creeps into every bodily crevice. But I can’t call it a day, not just yet. My best friend, Melanie Sherman, runs a support group for female victims of violent crime. We started the group together, and I volunteer there as a counselor. Sometimes we have a small turnout – only one or two women. But it’s worth it. Just knowing that there’s a chance I could help someone is enough to make sure I’m there every week.

  There’s nothing more important to me than women’s rights. Nothing.

  The sun falls just beneath the hazy horizon by the time I change into jeans and a light sweater before driving back into Vegas and parking outside the hotel where Melanie and I rent the conference room every week. When Melanie sees me walk into the room, she grins and runs over for a hug.

  “I swear, Jos, you look fitter every time I see you,” Melanie says, affectionately pinching my bicep. “What are you doing, lifting Chippendales for practice now? If that’s the case, I can think of things far more fun to do with them.”

  I roll my eyes and laugh. “I’m sure you could. Except you’d never be the one doing it with them.”

  She puts a finger to her lips. “Gabby’s coming tonight. At least, she told me she was.”

  “Ooh,” I say, pretending to dig my elbow into Melanie’s side. “The new girlfriend! I can’t wait to meet her.”

  Melanie’s flush turns into a deep red. “She’s great. I have no idea what she’s doing with the likes of me.”

  I pretend to groan. “Mel, you’re perfect, and you know that. You’re smart and hot, and compassionate. What more could a girl want? Shit, if I didn’t have an extraordinary love for cock, you’d trip my trigger.”

  Melanie puts her hand to her forehead and fakes a swoon. “I do declare, Joslyn. Do you have a little girl crush on ‘lil ole me?”

  We burst out laughing at the tired joke as a short, curvy brunette walks into the room. She grins when she sees Melanie.

  “Gabby, I’d like you to meet Joslyn. My bestie.” She pulls Gabby into a side-hug and kisses her on the cheek.

  “It’s nice to meet you.” Gabby lowers her eyes at the compliment, but still holds out her hand and we shake. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “Hopefully good things,” I say, raising an eyebrow and glancing at Melanie. After my performance today, I’m starting to think my naughty list overpowers my nice list. “Is this your first time?”

  Gabby shakes her head. “No.” She blushes a rosy shade of pink. “Um, I’m sorry if this sounds weird, but Joslyn, I just wanted to tell you how much you inspire me.”

  “Thank you. That means a lot.”

  “You’re just really strong,” Gabby says. “Melanie told me all about your self-defense class, and I’d really like to take part.”

  “The more, the merrier.” I know I get animated when I talk about my defense classes. I just can’t help myself. “Our next class is on Thursday, you should definitely come. You’d be welcome.”

  Gabby smiles. “Thank you.” She glances over her shoulder. “I’m going to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.”

  We nod, and Melanie watches as Gabby saunters away. As soon as she’s out of earshot, I give Melanie a thumb’s up and a grin.

  “She’s great,” I say honestly. “I think you really knocked it out of the park this time.”

  “God, I know.”

  As we move about the room, pushing the chairs into a big circle and setting up long tables with coffee, donuts, and fruit, Melanie tells me all about Gabby and how they met at a Britney Spears show. By the time we’re almost ready to start the support group, a hint of jealousy creeps in over my best friend’s happiness. I’m starting to wonder if I’ll ever get my own happily ever after.

  Maybe you need to be nicer.

  I shake away my inner critic and tell her to shut the fuck up. Nice never got me very far in the past.

  “You know, Jos, there are some great men in Vegas,” Melanie says as the women begin to filter in. “It wouldn’t hurt you to date every now and then. Shoot some fun into your life by recipe of a little hot beef injection.”


  Unbidden, Troy’s visage floats across my mind. He’s huge, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s packing down south.

  “I can’t. I’ve got the class to worry about, and this, and my dad. Did I tell you he’s going to retire? He’s so not happy about it, either. I think it’s going to become a problem between us.”

  “Don’t change the subject.” Melanie pops a grape into her mouth and chews. “I’m so happy with Gabby, and well, I know you’re lonely. There are some great guys at my office, why not let me fix you up?”

  “I’m pretty sure you’re not the person I would allow to set me up on a blind date with a man,” I answer. “Can you imagine a guy working in a bank who would want to date me?”

  Melanie taps her lips with her finger, and I realize she’s going to prove more challenging to throw off the scent of a blind date set up. “Don’t make assumptions. Everyone’s got hidden layers to them, Jos. Sometimes they’re just more hidden than others, that’s all.”

  I think about Troy and his meathead personality…or lack thereof. He’s got a hot body, and he’s gorgeous as fuck. But that’s where it ends. So that’s where my fantasies starring him should end too.

  “Yeah,” I mutter. “Except for some people, who have absolutely no personality or drive at all.”

  Melanie smirks at me. “Sounds like you’ve got someone very specific in mind. Is it a boy?”

  “I don’t,” I lie. “Now come on – it’s time for us to get started.”

  As Melanie makes the usual introductions and begins her speech about how everyone should feel comfortable, safe, and secure, my mind wanders back to Troy. It’s obvious that Nixon’s not going to give me another man to work with, so I guess I’m stuck with him. Now, how to make that work.

  The thought isn’t an appealing one at all. I have no idea how I’m supposed to make someone like Troy understand a strong, independent woman like me. He’s already shown zero interest in my self-defense class, and while we were in Nixon’s office, I couldn’t help but feel like he talked down to me about the important work I do with women.

  At the end of the meeting, I sit off to the side in a small room. The girls and women are welcome to come and talk with me, free of charge – it’s all part of the services that Melanie’s support group provides. Sometimes, I can tell women feel like they have to show up three or four times before coming to me and talking. It makes me feel horrible. I wish I could do something, or say something to all of the women to make them understand that nothing about being assaulted is their fault.