Sin Bin

by Maureen Smith

  Meadow grinned. “For your own good. You were a minor, Logan. And gambling is addictive.”

  He grunted. “Sure. I guess.”

  She laughed, shaking her head at him. “How’d you learn to play so well?”

  He sobered, his eyes growing shadowed. “My mother used to take me to work with her when she couldn’t afford daycare. Children weren’t allowed on the casino floor, of course, but they looked the other way because I was Marisol’s kid—”

  “Marisol? That was your mother’s name?”

  He nodded, staring out the window. “There was a booth in the back where I’d sit playing with my toys and watching TV while she worked. When I got sleepy, I’d lay down on the seat and take a nap.” He raised his glass to his lips, pausing to explain, “My mom was very beautiful and the customers really liked her, so her boss made a lot of allowances for her. She checked on me and brought me food during her breaks, but sometimes she got so busy she would forget about me. Whenever that happened, I’d sneak over to the poker room to watch the players. Even as a kid, I knew that’s where the real action was.”

  He paused to take a meditative sip of his whiskey. “One of the best poker players was this Italian guy named Gino Roselli. He was a mobster, which I didn’t really understand at the time. I just knew he was a sharp dresser and everyone seemed afraid of him. Sometimes when he was playing poker and the pot started getting really high, he’d calmly take out his gun and put it on the table just to warn the other players that they’d better not even think about cheating.”

  Logan chuckled, shaking his head at the memory. “One day when he saw me peeking around the corner, he called me over to the table. I was terrified. I thought he was mad at me for spying on them. I gulped hard and slowly made my way over to him. He picked me up, sat me on his lap and told me that I reminded him of his grandson. One of the other guys joked that I was much cuter, and Mr. Roselli laughed and agreed. He taught me how to play poker that day. It was the most fun I’d had in a very long time.”

  Meadow smiled as she pictured an adorable little boy with a mop of unruly black hair and shining dark eyes, grinning and giggling as he played poker with a bunch of mobsters.

  “My mom freaked out when she saw me sitting on Mr. Roselli’s lap,” Logan continued. “She ran over to the table, snatched me off his lap and carried me away to the bathroom. I remember her being so upset that she was shaking. Shaking with anger and fear. She didn’t speak Spanish often, but when she got riled up, she could leave your ears ringing. She was yelling in Spanish and she kept repeating the words mal hombre, which means bad man. She gave me a good spanking and warned me not to go anywhere near Señor Roselli again. I didn’t listen to her, of course. But I never got caught again.” A small smile flitted over Logan’s face. “And that’s how I learned to play poker.”

  Meadow nodded slowly, wondering how a mother could be that worried for her child’s safety and still make the heartless decision to abandon him.

  Logan stared out the window. “About a year after she left me, I ran away from my foster home and found my way back to the casino.”

  Meadow stared at him in horror. “You were only six!”

  He nodded tightly. “I went back to look for Mr. Roselli. I was hoping…I don’t know. I guess I was hoping he could take me in. Give me a home.” Logan paused, staring down into his glass. “I’ll never know what he would have done because he wasn’t there.”

  “Where was he?”

  “He was dead. Killed by a rival mob.”

  “Oh.” Meadow hesitated. “I’m…sorry?”

  A rueful half smile touched Logan’s mouth. “No condolences necessary. He was a mobster. He killed people for a living. I knew he wasn’t a good guy. But he was one of the few people in my life who’d been kind to me. I thought living with such a dangerous man had to be far better than staying at the fucked-up foster home I’d just run away from.”

  Meadow touched his arm, her throat aching with sympathy for the wounded child he’d been, and the haunted man he was now.

  “This is the first time in nine years that I’ll be in Vegas for my birthday,” he said grimly. “It feels like returning to the scene of a crime.”

  “I know.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Which casino were you…Where did your mom work?”

  Logan looked out the window and pointed, his fingertip tapping the glass. “That one.”

  Meadow futilely tried to follow the direction of his finger. “Which one?”

  His jaw tightened, like he didn’t want to say the name. “The Flamingo.”

  “Oh.” Her throat constricted. “It’s so…close to here.”

  He nodded bitterly and stared into his whiskey, swirling it in the glass before he took another deep swig.

  Her heart broke for him.

  “Enough about that.” Still leaning his shoulder against the window, he tilted his head back to regard her from beneath the dark fringe of his lashes. “We’ve talked about your upbringing, but you never told me how your adoptive parents found you.”

  She smiled, cradling her glass in her hands. “They saw me at the district science fair.”

  “Yeah? Really?”

  She nodded. “Lacey was a librarian and one of the science fair judges. When she and Harris came to my table, I demonstrated how to measure the orbits of double stars with my telescope. They were very impressed. They told me I was brilliant and adorable. They started asking me questions about myself, and when I told them I was in foster care, they gave each other this look that I’ll never forget. It was like a light bulb went off in their heads. Like they both had an epiphany. As it turns out, they couldn’t have children, but they hadn’t decided to adopt until they met me that day.” She smiled at the memory. “Apparently I charmed them enough to convince them that we belonged together.”

  A warm, tender smile softened Logan’s face. “That’s really beautiful, Jupiter. I thought about you so many times and wondered how you were doing.”

  “I thought about you, too. I hoped you were okay and staying out of trouble. I can’t tell you enough how happy it makes me to know that Mr. Tavárez adopted you and gave you a real home.” She smiled softly. “I would love to see him again. Is he coming to the game on Friday?”

  “He is,” Logan confirmed. “He arrives tomorrow, and he already told me that he wants to take us out to dinner.”

  Meadow beamed. “I’d love that.”

  Logan smiled and tweaked her nose. “I’ll tell him.”

  “Please do.”

  Logan downed the rest of his whiskey in a single gulp and set the empty glass on a nearby table. Then he blew out a deep breath and stood with his legs apart and his hands clasped behind his head, staring out the window with a brooding expression.

  Meadow watched him as she sipped from her glass, letting the whiskey burn a path down her throat to her stomach.

  “Have you ever tried to find either of your parents?” she asked quietly.

  He hesitated so long, she thought he wasn’t going to answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and strained. “I found my father.”

  “You did?” she said in surprise.

  He nodded tightly. “It wasn’t hard. He comes from one of the most powerful families in Canada.”

  “Really?”

  Another terse nod. “The Brassard Foundation has businesses in construction, aeronautics, auto supply, media and philanthropy. It’s a fucking empire worth billions,” he said with bitter contempt.

  “Wow,” Meadow murmured.

  “As the eldest of his siblings, my father is chair and executive director of the foundation. He also runs a few of their other businesses. You can’t go anywhere in Toronto without hearing about the Brassard family. I lived there while playing in the OHL. People used to ask me all the time if I was related to the Brassards, and I would deny it. And then one day, shortly before I turned eighteen, I saw a billboard for an upcoming retail center they were developing. As I sat there fuming in my use
d car, I decided to go see my father once and for all. I didn’t want a dime from him, and I didn’t know what I was going to say when we were finally face to face. I just needed to confront the son of a bitch and demand some fucking answers.” Logan’s voice was as cold, hard and brittle as frozen glass.

  “He was in a meeting when I got to his office. His secretary told me he would be out shortly, so I gave her a fake name and took a seat in the reception area. I look nothing like the motherfucker, so she had no reason to suspect my identity.” Logan’s jaw hardened. “The longer I sat there waiting for him, the madder I got. All I could think about was my mother living paycheck to paycheck and struggling to make ends meet, sometimes going hungry because there wasn’t enough food for both of us to eat. Even if that son of a bitch didn’t want a relationship with us, the very least he could have done was pay fucking child support. It wouldn’t have made the slightest dent in his vast fortune.”

  Logan shook his head, his jaw clenching tighter with every word. “All these things were running through my mind as I sat in that fancy reception area with its expensive furniture and panoramic views of the Toronto skyline. I looked around and realized that I no longer wanted to just talk to my father. I flat-out wanted to kill him.”

  The throb of raw fury in his voice chilled Meadow to the bone. But she certainly couldn’t blame him for being so angry. His father was a steaming pile of human garbage, and that was being kind.

  “After some time, his secretary told me he would be right with me.” Logan swallowed hard, his fists balling and releasing at his sides. “I couldn’t go through with seeing him. I honestly didn’t trust myself not to do him serious bodily harm. So I got up and left before he came out. Fortunately I was drafted into the NHL shortly afterward, so I didn’t have to live in the same city as him much longer.”

  Meadow’s heart clutched as she stared at Logan’s hardened profile. “I’m so sorry that your father didn’t do right by you and your mom. I don’t care how much charity work he does. You’re a far better man than he could ever hope to be.”

  Logan’s lips twisted sardonically. “Somehow I doubt he’s losing any sleep over that.”

  “Of course not. Because he has no soul.” Meadow swigged down the last of her whiskey, coughing at the burn.

  “Whoa, easy there.” Logan took her empty glass and set it down next to his. Then he framed her face with his hands and leaned down until their foreheads were touching and their lips were a hairsbreadth away.

  “Thank you for coming this week,” he said with quiet intensity. “It means everything to have you here.”

  Her heart got all melty. “Not coming wasn’t an option. Well, maybe for a hot second,” she amended wryly. “You really threw me for a loop with that money.”

  “I know.” His eyes glinted. “You made your feelings pretty clear.”

  She sighed. “I didn’t mean to yell at you—”

  “Yes, you did.”

  She giggled. “Okay, yeah, I meant every word. But I was just so shocked. I wasn’t expecting anything like that. I pride myself on being self-sufficient, and I don’t ever want you to think I’m that kind of girl.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What kind of girl?”

  “You know. A gold digger.”

  He looked deadly serious. “I would never think that about you, Meadow. You’re so far from that it’s not even up for discussion.”

  She bit her lip, staring into his fierce dark eyes. “I’m not used to any of this. You. Us. This friendship of ours. It’s uncharted territory for me.”

  “I know exactly how you feel,” Logan murmured, his thumbs caressing her cheekbones. “If it’s any consolation, I’m just as scared as you are.”

  She closed her eyes, leaning into him. “I don’t like being scared.”

  “You and me both.” He rubbed his nose against hers, making her insides go all fluttery.

  She sighed. “I transferred half of the money to my bank account, but I haven’t touched it yet. I’ll probably withdraw some cash tomorrow and share it with some homeless people along the Strip. It’s heartbreaking and disturbing to see tourists practically stepping over the bodies of their fellow human beings as they rush to the nearest casino to blow wads of cash on slot machines.”

  “Agreed,” Logan murmured. “Just be safe.”

  “I will.” She bit her lip. “If you don’t mind, I’d also like to spend some of the money on Diego and Zari—the kids I told you about during my drive to Denver. Diego could use more art supplies, and Zari has a birthday coming up so I want to get something really nice for her.”

  Logan nuzzled his cheek against her forehead. “God, you’re sweet.”

  She smiled sheepishly, toying with a button on his shirt. “And, um, I think I will use some of the money to tide myself over until I receive my first paycheck. At this point, I’m not too proud to admit that my bank account could use a little resuscitation.”

  “Whatever you want, babe. The money’s yours. If you need more—”

  “Don’t even think about it,” she warned.

  He chuckled, his eyes taking on an almost sleepy expression as they lowered to her lips. “I said I wouldn’t kiss you,” he whispered huskily. “It’s taking everything I have to keep my word.”

  She shivered at the way his mouth hovered over hers, as if he were drawing sustenance from her breath. Not that she had any left in her lungs at the moment.

  His arms went around her, holding her close as she rested her cheek against his chest. The powerful connection they shared throbbed between them with every breath, every beat of their hearts.

  She closed her eyes as he nuzzled his face in her hair, tenderly brushing the strands off her forehead. When his fingers grazed her temple and paused, she tensed in his arms.

  “What’s this?” he murmured, fingering the thin welt buried under her hairline.

  “It’s an old scar.”

  “From what?”

  She shook her head against his chest. “I don’t know. I can’t remember how I got it.”

  “Like the broken ribs,” he said grimly.

  She nodded. “There’s a gap in my memory…missing pieces of the past.”

  Logan was silent for a long moment, gently stroking her hair. “That night I called you when you were driving home after your going-away party. Something was wrong. I could hear it in your voice even though you tried to play it off.” He paused. “Had you just had a panic attack? Like the ones you used to have at the group home?”

  Tears pricked her eyes before she gave a jerky nod.

  His arms tightened, concern for her pouring off him. “Did something happen?”

  “No. Not really.” She swallowed hard. “I had driven past my aunt and uncle’s house, where I lived for a short time after my parents died. I thought being there would jog my memory, knock something back into place.”

  “Did it?” Logan asked gently.

  She licked her dry lips and shook her head. “Nothing happened.”

  Logan pulled back to bracket her face in his hands and search her eyes. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “While I was parked outside the house, a car backfired down the street. It scared the crap out of me, sent me into a panic attack. I felt kind of silly afterward. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

  He watched her with those midnight-black eyes that saw everything, even the secrets she was trying to hide from him.

  She forced a smile. “I’m fine, Logan. Seriously.”

  He studied her a moment longer. “Whenever you’re ready to pursue retrieving your foster care records, my lawyer is on standby.”

  “Thank you, Logan. I really appreciate that.” She hesitated, biting her lip. “I thought I was ready before, but now I’m not so sure. I don’t know what’s in those files, and that scares me.”

  Logan pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I understand.”

  “I know you do,” she whispered, staring up at him. “You understand better than anyone.�
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  He gathered her back into his arms, tucking her head against his chest as she wrapped her arms around him.

  Framed against the Las Vegas skyline, they stood there holding each other tight, losing awareness of everything around them for a very long time.

  Meadow was the first to speak again. “I know how difficult your birthdays have always been for you. Are you going to be okay on Friday?”

  Logan’s chest lifted on a soul-deep sigh. “I guess we’ll find out.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  LOGAN

  * * *

  He woke up with a massive boner.

  But that was nothing unusual. He was a healthy young guy. Morning wood came with the territory.

  What was highly unusual was the presence of a woman in his arms. He didn’t do sleepovers. The only times he spent the night with a lover were when he was too drunk to safely drive himself home. On those rare occasions, he never woke up holding the woman in his arms.

  Of course, the one currently snuggled against him wasn’t just some cheap hookup.

  She was Jupiter. And that changed everything.

  He smiled as he gazed down at her under half-closed lids. She was curled trustingly against his side with her head pillowed on his shoulder, her small hand resting on his stomach, her thigh slung over his hip.

  As he came more fully awake, he registered other pleasing little details. The warmth of her breath on his neck. The scent of her tousled hair spilling around her face. The plump curve of her breast against his bare chest, her perky nipple poking him through her T-shirt.

  That last detail broadened his smile into a grin. It also sent heat racing to the swelling appendage in his shorts. He found himself wondering when she’d removed her bra. Dare he hope that she’d also ditched her panties?

  Grinning harder, he glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. It was just after eight o’clock. He didn’t have practice until eleven, so he could grab another hour of sleep if he wanted. And maybe he and Jupiter could order room service and have breakfast in bed, eating off each other’s forks.