“And you think this will help you?”
“Yes.” I nod as my mind races with possibilities. “It’ll show him exactly what he needs to see – that I have leadership abilities. Besides, it would be perfect for the Armónico. Even with Jack and me working at the same time, we still have people trying to count cards almost daily.”
“Well, glad you dig it,” Hawk says. “Because I think it’s the next big thing in casino security.”
“Oh, I’m sure it is.”
And I’ll be the next big thing in the Armónico. I set my mouth in a determined line. Even without Joslyn Monroe.
Chapter Nineteen
Joslyn
“Come on girls, you can do it!”
I wipe the sweat from my brow and pace from one end of Tribe of Amazons to the other, pumping my fists perfectly in time with the Nine Inch Nails song blasting from the speakers. Looking around, I can’t help but grin. In just a few short weeks, I’ve transformed a group of Las Vegas socialites into tough, strong women. It’s incredibly satisfying – almost as satisfying as competing in American Ninja Warrior.
The song fades, and I yank the stereo cord from the wall, clapping.
“Whoop!” I yell, jumping up and down. “That was incredible!”
Taryn goes through her paces at the front of the class, my star pupil, and although she’s sweaty and exhausted, she grins and pumps her fist. In fact, all of my girls smile like they’ve just heard some good news.
“I feel incredible,” Taryn says, stretching her hamstrings. “Hey, you think I could take out Vin Diesel?” She crouches and eyes herself in the mirror like she’s about to approach an opponent.
“Maybe.” I chuckle as I watch her, pride puffing out my chest. “With a few more classes.”
Taryn sticks her tongue out. “You need to have more confidence in us. Hey, Joslyn?”
“Yeah?”
Taryn frowns. “Whatever happened to Troy? You know, Nixon wanted him to help us out?”
“Yeah,” Marcella says, stepping forward. She, too, glistens with sweat but she looks radiant. “I was looking forward to beating him up. I don’t know if I ever told you this, but back before Nixon and I were dating, I hated Troy. He was always sticking his nose into things.”
The mention of Troy feels like a knife to the heart, but I force myself to shrug and look casual. “I don’t know,” I lie, shrugging. “Maybe Nixon put him on another project. Something to do with actual casino security?”
“I don’t think so,” Marcella says. “Nixon mentioned him last night, over dinner.”
I freeze in my tracks. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” Marcella says. She blinks and frowns. “You know what? I can’t actually remember what he said. I was busy making sure Linc got his bomb pop. They’re his fave.”
“Weird,” I reply.
“Yeah,” Marcella says again. She gives me an odd look, then shrugs. “Oh well. I guess he found something more important to put Troy on instead of this.”
Yeah. I ball my hands into fists and lock my arms at my sides. Like lying and calling me cold-hearted.
“So, are we getting another guy? You know, as a dummy?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Um, I’ll look into it.”
The girls don’t look thrilled, so I twist my lips into the best smile I can manage.
“But you know what? You’re all actually doing so well that I’m not sure you need a practice dummy or anything like that. You girls are really knocking it out of the park, and I couldn’t be more satisfied with your progress.”
Taryn and Marcella beam, and I feel the cool wash of relief sliding over my body.
“We’re coming up on the end of these classes,” I continue. “And I think you’ve all accomplished everything you’ve set out to do.”
To my surprise, Marcella looks almost heartbroken at the news.
“What’s wrong?”
She shakes her head and presses her lips together. “Nothing, I just…well, I know it sounds corny, but I’m really going to miss these classes, Joslyn. They’ve helped me so much. I’ve never felt so confident. Grounded. Powerful.”
“And that doesn’t have to change.” I place a hand on her slender shoulder. “I want you all to keep practicing on your own time.”
Haylee steps up to the group, wearing a tiny frown. My heart sinks. “But I don’t want to do this on my own. Joslyn, won’t you teach another class? Something more advanced?”
“Yeah,” Marcella chimes in before I can reply. “Come on, Joslyn, please? This is the only workout I’ve ever been able to stick with.”
Even Taryn makes puppy eyes at me. “Please?”
The door bangs open and shut, and I whirl around with my hands on my hips, ready to tell Troy to fuck off.
Please be Troy.
But it’s not the meaty figure of Troy darkening the doorway to Tribe of Amazons.
Dante Giovanetti looms in the doorway, darkening my studio to black. My heart races as I wonder if I’m going to have to put my training to use right here and now.
“What do you want?” I demand, putting my hands on my hips. Marcella pales before me as if she’s seen Casper The Friendly Ghost.
No, it’s just Dante The Dickhead Disaster.
Dante steps forward with an odd grin on his face. The way he looks Marcella up and down in her skimpy workout wear labels him a pervert. “Hello, ladies. I didn’t expect to see all of you here. What a lovely surprise.”
At the sight of Dante, Taryn bristles. But I step in front of them and turn around. If I have to make myself into a human shield to protect my ladies, I’ll do it. In fact, I’ll stop at nothing to foil this piece of shit.
“Girls, we’re done for the day,” I say, waving them off. “See you next week.”
I can tell from the vengeful look in Taryn’s eyes that she doesn’t feel like leaving, but thankfully, Haylee takes her and Marcella by the elbow and guides them out of the gym.
“Aw, what a pity.” Dante’s eyes follow Taryn out the door, his lascivious gaze ogling her from behind. “Such a nice piece of ass, that Taryn. She used to dance for me, you know.”
My stomach falls to my knees. What the fuck is he talking about? If Reagan Caldwell overheard him disrespecting his wife that way, he’d go postal. Is it wrong to daydream about Reagan taking Dante out? And then me spitting on his grave?
“Yeah, well, you never told me what you’re doing here.” I back up a step, putting a few feet between us and pulling my defenses up around me. “What do you want?”
Dante doesn’t answer. He turns away and slowly walks the length of the room, leaving scuff marks on the polished wooden floor. He stops by the long, mirrored wall and inspects his reflection, adjusting the lapels of his expensive wool suit. My heart pounds the whole time, but I know I can’t react…not just yet. Dante’s favorite game is a sadistic twist of cat-and-mouse, and I’m sure as hell not reducing myself to rodent status.
“What a nice little establishment you have here.” He leans closer to the glass and breathes on a spot, fogging the mirror with cigar-scented condensation. “It would be such a shame if something happened to it. I bet this mirror sees more tits than Crazy Horse.”
I take a deep breath. Relax, Joslyn, I tell myself, concentrating on the sensation of my lungs filling with fresh oxygen. He’s not going to do anything – he’s obviously just trying to bait you.
“Yes, well, I do work with a lot of ladies.” I stand my ground and pretend to just go with the flow.
“If you want, you can call them that.” He turns and glares at me. “But I know better. By the way, I’m not here to talk about harlots posing as ladies.”
“Obviously.”
“Your father’s one tenacious old man.” Dante cocks his head to the side and steps closer, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a Gucci wallet printed with a snake.
Fitting.
“How much would it take?” Dante unfolds the wallet and pulls out an immaculate stack of m
oney. “Fifteen thousand? You name the amount, Miss Monroe, I’ll hand it over. Just make sure your old man keeps his ass firmly planted as chairman…until after the vote.” His lips curl into a smirk. He thinks he’s won. Obviously, he doesn’t really know me at all. “And then, I don’t give a shit what happens to him.”
My jaw drops. “Are you kidding me? That’s illegal.”
The almost-friendly smirk on Dante’s face fades, and he narrows his eyes. “No.” He shakes his head as if I’m dense. “I’m not kidding. I think it’s acceptable to bend the law from time to time, don’t you? Especially, when it would benefit so many people.”
“You know I can’t take money from you,” I say as calmly as I can muster. “And you know that my father’s being forced into retirement – he doesn’t have a choice in the matter. If he could stay on as chairman, he would. It’s out of his hands.”
“That’s too bad.” Dante’s voice remains calm. Too calm. His back stays rigid, and I can see the barely controlled rage right underneath his Armani-clad exterior. “Are you saying you can’t help with my little problem? Can’t…or won’t?”
“It’s not about the money. He’s turning sixty-five, Dante. You know the other voters on the commission board want to force his retirement. And they can.”
Dante stares at me for a moment, like he can’t believe that I had the nerve to call his bluff. Then his lips curl into a slow smile that makes my stomach do nervous backflips.
“Well, that’s unfortunate for him.” He tucks his wallet back into the pocket of his jacket and shakes his head. “Because I need your old man’s vote. He’s beholden to me. He has to do it. If he doesn’t, I can’t be held responsible for the ramifications. There will be many powerful men left very unhappy.”
I feel helpless, like a rat in a maze with no promise of cheese at the end. Or like a little girl in a cage, I think, gritting my teeth. I don’t know what to do – I have to protect my father, but I don’t see how to do it without selling my soul to the devil.
Now, I understand how Dad must feel.
“So, you’d better think of a tidy sum.” Dante cocks his head to the side and laughs. “Trust me – any amount you want. It’s yours.”
Summoning confidence from an imaginary well, I square my shoulders and put my hands on my hips.
“If you think you can threaten my father – or me – you’re sadly mistaken.” On a whim and a dime, I turn into the ice princess that Troy accused me of being. This time, he’s right. “My father has been your toy for far too long, Dante, and he isn’t going to let you make him your puppet anymore. You may think you’re pulling the strings, but I’ve got news for you. They’ve been cut.”
Dante pulls out a cigar and chomps on the end, lighting it with a shaking hand. By the time he puffs foul smoke, his face flames red with anger.
“Just because I’m getting older doesn’t mean I’m all played out, Joslyn,” Dante growls. His words send a shiver down my spine, but I’m determined not to show him how frightened I am. “And you and your old man got a big surprise coming to you both if you don’t wise up and make sure things swing my way. If the Mona Lisa falls into the wrong hands, I’m going to have all the time in the world on my hands to be very, very unhappy.”
I swallow and shake my head. “No. We’re not pawns, Dante. My father is going to retire and spend the rest of his life free of you.”
Dante snorts. To my surprise, he actually smiles. “That’s what you think.” He takes a long drag from his cigar and taps it with his finger, so a pile of ash falls to my immaculate floor. “But I’m not done yet, Joslyn. Not by a longshot.”
“Well, my father and I are. Now, get out of my studio.”
Dante chuckles. “So demanding. Too bad I don’t have time to drop my pants and give you something to demand.” With one final shake of his head, he saunters over to the door, whistling under his breath. As he puts his hand on the door handle, he turns back around and fixes me with a hard gaze. “Too bad I don’t need someone to suck my cock. That might be a more palatable deal for someone like you. But I like a woman with a few more…” He stops only to spear my body with a lascivious stare. Everywhere his eyes touch, I feel sick. “Curves.”
“Leave.” I point at the door as I try to stop myself from shaking with rage. “Now.”
“Just remember, I’m not through with you,” Dante says, needing to own the parting shot. “Or your father.” He blows a big puff of cigar smoke at me and storms through the doors, slamming them behind him.
When he’s gone, I close my eyes and lean against the wall, gasping for air. Being around Dante triggers me in every way – I can hardly look at him without remembering how it felt to be trapped in a cage, bleeding and helpless. But oddly, today I gather strength. After all, Dante came to attack me, and I won. I stood my ground. I didn’t take his money, and I made him angry because I didn’t give him what he wanted.
I can’t believe it, but when I open my eyes and look in the mirror, I smile. His bark is worse than his bite, I think, licking my lips and fixing my reflection with a determined gaze. Besides, he’s getting older. How much damage could he possibly do to someone young and in peak physical condition like me? It’s not like he could attack me and win – I’m much stronger! And I could take out his henchmen too. Dante’s not going to hurt me. He’s bluffing, and that’s final.
I know that if my father and I cave, Dante will run Las Vegas until he’s dead. So, all we have to do is stand strong together…and not give in to a single one of his ridiculous demands.
Now, if I only had Troy beside me, I just might believe it.
Chapter Twenty
Troy
Hawk and I drink the Glenfiddich until dawn. When I wake up, I’m on an enormous black leather couch with a fur throw draped over my legs. My head hurts like hell, and the rest of me doesn’t feel great, either. Worse, the confidence brought on by the scotch has completely evaporated, and I feel lower than I thought possible.
When I sit up, I groan in pain. My head spins, and I rub my eyes, resting my elbows on my knees.
“Morning,” Hawk calls in a scratchy voice. He walks into the room carrying a wooden tray of scrambled eggs and bacon. “I made breakfast.”
“You made breakfast?” I wince under the agony of hearing my own voice.
Hawk snorts. “Well, not really. I called Steakhouse and had them deliver brunch. But it’s still good. Those damn Caldwell’s excel at everything. Each one so different, but all of them a brood of fucking overachievers.”
My body can’t decide if the smell is mouth-watering or nauseating. One moment I feel like grabbing the bacon from the platter and shoving it in my mouth. And in the very next, I feel like throwing up all over Hawk’s supple couch.
“I don’t think I can eat anything.” I close my eyes and groan, throwing the cover over my eyes like a furry blindfold. “God, I’m such an idiot.”
“You need to eat.” Hawk sits down on the other end of the couch and yawns. “Trust me, I felt like shit when I woke up too. A little hair of the dog masquerading as a Bloody Mary, and I feel light years better.”
“Yeah, I don’t think bacon and eggs are going to make me feel better.” Unbidden, my mind goes straight into the sewer as I think of Joslyn. I dread the moment when I have to tell her that I won’t work with her anymore, and honestly, I don’t know if it’s because I still feel that way, or because of how ashamed I am after our nasty fight.
Hawk shrugs. “Suit yourself, Cass.” He rises to his feet and stretches his long limbs toward the cantilevered ceiling. “I gotta get to work. Debugging and all. When you’re done, just show yourself out.”
“I can take a hint.” Climbing to my feet leaves me winded and dizzy, and I stumble forward, putting my hand on the pristine white wall.
“No, man, you don’t have to go right now.” Hawk stares at me from the doorway. “Stay as long as you need to. Mi casa is su casa.”
“I have to go to work.” It sounds like the wor
st thing in the world as I say the words. “Maybe I’ll tell Nixon about your new thing.”
Hawk rolls his eyes. “My new ‘thing’ is poised to become the latest and greatest in casino security. And don’t say much – it’s not ready yet. The last thing I need is Caldwell over here spouting his baseless demands. Damn bitch thinks he can just snap his fingers and have whatever he wants.”
“Aye aye, captain,” I say with a little salute. “Duly noted. Thanks for letting me crash here.”
“There’s no way I was letting you drive. Feel better man, yeah?”
I nod weakly. “Yeah,” I mutter under my breath. “I’ll be sure to do that.”
The arid and steamy air hits me in between the eyes by the time I leave Hawk’s mansion and drive back to the Vegas Strip. I pass a couple of ambitious joggers – both college kids, sweating like crazy – and it makes me wonder if Joslyn is still training despite having completed her audition.
Stop thinking about her, idiot, I tell myself, clenching my jaw and squinting at the road. She’s icy cold, remember? But telling myself that isn’t quite enough to rid myself of the powerful memory of Joslyn’s sleek, taut body pressed against mine.
When I get into work, I go straight to Nixon’s office. My hangover has started to subside a little, thanks to a giant bottle of Vitamin Water, but I still feel like shit.
“Nix?” I call as I knock on the door. “You in there?”
“Yeah,” Nixon calls back. Thankfully, he doesn’t sound nearly as irritated as he did the last time I saw him. “Come in.”
I push open the door and slouch down across from Nixon’s desk. He looks up and frowns. “Troy, you look like shit. What happened?”
Oh, nothing, just drank half a bottle of eighty-dollar scotch in a useless attempt to wipe my brain free of Joslyn Monroe. Mission failed.
Instead, I shrug. “Nothing,” I lie. “I stayed up drinking with a friend.”
Nixon snorts. “Ah, to be young and single,” he says in a twist of irony neither of us ever saw coming. “What’s up?”
All In (Caldwell Brothers Book 5) Page 14