Ace of Hearts (Vegas Underground 3)

“Tony!” I dimly hear the scratch of Pepper’s voice, but I’m not done with Hugh.

“You don’t lay a hand on her. You don’t ever fucking touch her, do you understand me?”

Pepper’s bodyguard hovers nearby, but does nothing.

“Get off me,” Hugh sputters. “I’m trying to keep her from using her voice—for you.”

I release his jaw to slap his face. Yeah, I could smash his nose, but sometimes a slap is more humiliating. Plus, I gotta give back what he gave to her. “Don’t you fucking put that on me. If you were worried about me or your debt to the Tacones, you’d be treating the talent like the queen of fucking England.” I grip his throat this time, closing my fist around his windpipe.

“Has he hit you before?” I ask Pepper. Her stage manager stands at her shoulder, showing solidarity without physical contact.

When I look at her, I grow even more enraged, because she’s terrified, her face pale except for the pink fingerprints on her cheek, her brown eyes wide. Somewhere through the fog of anger, I know it’s me she’s afraid of, but that only pisses me off more.

“Has he?” I snap.

She shakes her head. “N-no.”

“Corey, Sondra, why don’t you take Ms. Heart somewhere else?” It’s Stefano who suggests it. In the back of my mind, I know it’s to keep Pepper from witnessing the violence, my violence, but I still can’t get my temper in check.

The women, all four of them, leave.

“And what the fuck are you doing?” I growl at her bodyguard. “You just stand there and let this guy hit her?”

“No, man. You just got there first,” he says, which may be true, but I’m not buying it. The little slip of a stage manager was more ready to jump in and save Pepper than he was.

I punch Hugh in the gut, then summon enough willpower to release him and step back. Stefano and Nico stand behind me, watching the whole thing coolly. They wouldn’t interfere, even if I totally went completely off the rails. They come from the same violent world I do, even if they’re trying to distance themselves from it.

“Show’s cancelled for the next week,” I inform Hugh. He’s doubled over, holding his ribs. “Everyone who’s part of the show will remain here, in the casino, during the hiatus. No more tricks, no funny business. I’m running this production now. Capiche?”

Hugh staggers up, sweat dripping down his hairline. “Yeah, I got it.” He has the nerve to look pissed off.

I start to walk away, toward Nico and Stefano. “Oh, and meet the Tacone brothers.” I wave a hand in their direction. “The men holding your balls in a vise right now.”

I don’t wait for a response. The three of us walk off, like nothing just happened, leaving Hugh wheezing and coughing in the hall.

Pepper

“Are they going to kill him?” I finally work up the courage to ask. My voice is raspy and sore from yelling at Hugh.

We’re naked—all four of us: me, Izzy and the two Tacone women, Corey and Sondra—lounging in the Bellissimo spa’s jacuzzi. The spa is closed, but Corey had a key.

When they led me away, Corey said, “All right, this is operation Rescue Pepper. What do you want? A stiff drink? Food? A long soak in the jacuzzi?”

I think she was half-joking about the jacuzzi, but I was all over it. My body can use every bit of pampering it can get. They decided the closed spa would be far better than the pool outside, especially considering none of had our suits with us.

“No,” Corey answers my question about Hugh, playing with the bubbles. “I mean, I doubt it.” She flicks a glance at Sondra, who we learned is her cousin and the new wife of the owner of the casino. She’s engaged to the brother, Stefano.

“Definitely not,” Sondra agrees, but neither of them look as certain as they sound.

“Well, he seriously deserves whatever he gets,” Izzy says bitterly. She’s more pissed off about Hugh’s assault on me than I am.

Of course, she doesn’t know that Hugh just had his house cleaned out by Tony and company and that’s why he’s lashing out at me. The man is definitely on the brink of a nervous breakdown. Not that I’m not.

I touch my face where Hugh slapped me. It still smarts a little, but I don’t think it will bruise. It’s already better.

“Do you need some ice for that?” Corey asks. She has a bucket of ice beside her, because she had room service deliver us champagne and a fruit and cheese platter, as well as hot tea with honey for me. She shoves it toward me, but I shake my head and down my champagne instead. Alcohol is on the list the doctor gave me of things I shouldn’t do, but I’ve had a long day.