Sin (Vegas Nights 1)

Stepping outside into the already sweltering heat, I answered Abby’s call. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Fergus is dying,” she drawled. “Barry is sleeping in the back. I forgot to tell him that Fergus was in early today so he had to leave early.”

I rubbed my hand across my head. Barry wasn’t a bad guy—he was just homeless. I knew nothing about him except he sometimes helped out in the basement hauling stuff around for a cup of coffee, fifty dollars, and permission to sleep on the step of the back door. Like my father, I’d once tried to offer him a place to stay, but he accepted a shower and simply moved on. He was happy, and who was I to judge that?

Fergus, however…

Well, he was a bitch.

“Give him a Xanax and a shot of vodka and tell him you’ve moved the scary man on,” I answered.

“Tried it. Except it was ibuprofen, and that was for me because his scream has given me a headache. I’m going to fire him if he doesn’t stop breathing into that paper bag in a minute.”

I had an assistant manager who was a diva and a manager who didn’t suffer fools.

I needed to rethink my staffing.

“I’ll be right there.” I sighed. There was no way of getting out of this. I had no doubts she would fire him—and despite the fact I was the one who had the final say, it would do nothing but cause Fergus to need an ambulance. “Avoid Fergus. Give Barry his coffee and have him help you do the order when it gets there.”

“Gotcha.” She hung up.

I headed back inside. “I’m sorry,” I said to Damien. “I have to go. Fergus is having a breakdown.”

He raised his eyebrows, more in amusement than in shock if the slight curve of his lips was anything to go by. “I don’t envy you that.”

I paused. “Right. You know each other.” How well did they know each other? And why didn’t I know more about that? “How do you know each other?”

“His story, not mine.” He chuckled and threw fifty dollars down on the table. Way too much for the breakfast, even with the tip. “I’ll come with you. I’ve seen one or two of those from him. What set him off?”

I grabbed my purse. “We have a homeless man who comes around every now and then—sleeps on the back steps. He does some odd jobs and stuff for us. Totally harmless. The first time Fergus saw him, he freaked out, so now we’ve got a system. I don’t even see him half the time, but this morning, Fergus took the early shift with Abby and Barry was sleeping outside.”

Damien chuckled, opening the door for me. “I know Barry. He does the same for most of us on the Strip. He’s a good guy.”

“Do you know why he’s homeless?”

“Not a clue, but then again, I’ve never asked.” He pulled his car keys out of his pocket. “I’ll see you at the bar?”

It sounded like a question. Like he was asking my permission to come with me, although he’d already said he’d come.

I hesitated for a moment, flicking my gaze over his face. “All right. Just don’t kill my manager.”

He smiled slowly and stepped toward his car. “No promises.”

***

I pulled up to The Scarlet Letter just seconds before Damien did. By the time I had my key out, he was standing right behind me, close enough that I could feel his breath on my shoulder.

I needed to wear a dress with sleeves thicker than a spaghetti strap around him.

I bit the inside of my cheek at his closeness and, in a show of control, dropped my keys to the ground.

Awesome.

He laughed, bending to pick them up. “Here,” he said in a low tone, straightening. “Let me.” He touched one hand to my waist and leaned around me, smoothly inserting the key into the keyhole and twisting.

“Thank you.” My throat and mouth were both dry, so the words came out croakily. I swiped my tongue across my lips and took the keys when he offered them to me.

“You’re welcome,” he said into my hair. His lips brushed my hair, and in one less-than-graceful motion, I yanked open the door and threw myself through it into the bar.

His laughter was just loud enough for me to catch it.

I hated that he knew that he affected me like this.

Attraction was such a bitch.

“I hate you,” I hissed back over my shoulder.

“But you’d still fuck me.” He laughed, pushing me inside and closing the door.

I shook off his hands and stalked through the bar. Fergus’ wailing traveled down the back hall from the staffroom, and Abby popped up from behind the bar. Her hair was scrunched into a bun on top of her head, her mascara was smudged beneath her left eye, and her eyes said she wanted to kill me.