Rake (Wolfes of Manhattan 4)

“Nothing. Just broke the heel off my shoe.”

Mo smiled. “And who’s this?”

“Reid. Reid Wolfe,” he said as he walked into our tiny place.

“You can put me down now,” I said.

“You sure? You didn’t twist your ankle or anything?”

“I’m fine. Seriously.”

He let me down gently, and I stood, placing weight on both legs. The left ankle was slightly weak, but once I kicked off my other shoe and was level, I felt better. A little sore but nothing I couldn’t live with. I’d danced with worse. A little ice tonight and tomorrow, and I’d be ready for rehearsal at three and showtime at seven.

Reid gathered my shoes. “I’ll have these fixed for you.”

“Please. It’s not necessary. They weren’t expensive.” I’d gotten them secondhand on Posh, but I kept that to myself.

“It’s no problem. They’ll be messengered back to you tomorrow.”

“I’m working tomorrow.”

“Right. About that dinner after the show?”

“Shows are at seven and ten. There’s no time between for dinner, and I said—”

“Then I’ll make reservations for midnight. I’ll see you after the show.”

“Wait, I—”

“Great meeting you,” Reid said to Mo. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Then he was gone. Like a flash. Totally forgetting how I’d said I was always beat after two shows…

“Those are some crazy gorgeous eyes,” Mo said, “and the rest of him… Wow.”

I said nothing. What could I say? She was spot on.

“Where’d you find him?”

“Just a…get-together.”

“And you didn’t invite me? Are there any more like him?”

“First of all, we’re not together. I broke my shoe.”

“And he carried you up here.”

“Yes,” I said matter-of-factly.

“Lucky girl.” Mo flashed me a smile and then walked to our tiny kitchen.

Funny.

I didn’t feel so lucky.

4

Reid

Oh, yes. This was going to be a challenge.

Any other woman would be in bed with me right about now, screaming my name.

Of course any other woman—at least any other living woman—hadn’t been so viciously victimized by my psycho father.

No problem. I had a few days at my disposal. I’d be working my ass off with the legal team, of course, but I never had trouble finding playtime.

I’d sleep on it.

I texted my assistant, Terrence, quickly and told him I needed tickets to Zee’s ten o’clock show tomorrow, pronto, and then I turned to emails.

I’d gotten through a few when my phone dinged with a text.

Terrence was damned good. He’d been my assistant for a couple years now, and I swore the dude had connections even the Wolfes didn’t have.

Except…the text wasn’t from Terrence.

I hear you’re in Las Vegas, gorgeous. So am I, as it happens. Want to meet for a drink?

Nieves Romero. My brother’s old flame who I just happened to fuck a couple weeks ago when she showed up in New York.

Not my finest moment.

But damn, she was hot. Rock had given her the brush-off, so she’d been ripe for the picking.

What the hell did she want? Then again, what did it matter?

I could use a good fuck.

Sure. I’m staying at Wolfe Premiere. Meet me in the bar in a half hour.

You got it, hot stuff.

How did she know I was here? Maybe I could also get some information out of her. She and her sister, Leta, seemed to be involved in this mystery somehow, but how? And why? They had no connection to my father.

Not that we knew of, anyway.

The limo dropped me back at the hotel. I checked my phone for the time. I had fifteen minutes before Nieves showed up in the bar. Time for a few games of blackjack. I was a whiz at the game.

The high-stakes tables called to me. I found a spot and laid a thousand dollars on the table for some chips. Then I laid all the chips out for the next deal.

The rush of gambling had been my downfall when I was younger, until my father taught me how to control the urge. He taught me never to leave too much to chance and to stay in control of every situation. If the table wasn’t cooperating, leave.

Lose two games in a row, get up and walk away, was his motto.

It hadn’t failed me yet. Sure, I lost sometimes, but more often than not, I left richer than I started.

Funny. My father was an asshole extraordinaire, but he taught me the ins and outs of business and pleasure.

I was fucking lucky he hadn’t drawn me into his hunting games. Had that been his plan?

I’d never know, thank God.

What would I have done?

Didn’t matter. I washed the thought away as the dealer dealt me a jack and then an ace.

Fucking blackjack!

I gathered my two and a half thousand dollars’ worth of chips, tipped the dealer a couple hundred, and then cashed out.

After a drink and quick fuck with Nieves, I’d be back at this table.

I didn’t need more than four hours of sleep a night. Another weird trait I’d inherited from Derek Wolfe. He’d slept even less, and his brain was always at a hundred and ten percent.