Vegas Revenge Wedding (Nevada Bad Boys 2)

“I see.” Ray glared at me and narrowed his eyes. “I guess you think this means the debt is just forgotten?”

“It isn’t my debt. My wife sure as hell didn’t have anything to do with it. It isn’t my fault your guy let him ride off on my motorcycle—he stole it, you know?” I smirked and folded my arms across my chest.

“Yeah, I bet.” Ray’s eyes narrowed even more.

“Look, you know who my brother is, right? Dane Faulkner—he’s about to be a first round draft pick in the NFL. I’m sure your boss told you all about him if he told you about me.” I kept my eyes locked on Ray, not looking away as he tried to stare me down.

“Yeah, he mentioned it.” Ray nodded.

“That’s a twenty-five million dollar contract, Ray. Do you think fifty-grand is going to be shit for him? I bet he’ll write me a check for double that if I just go over and ask nicely.” I exhaled sharply. “The way I see it—Walter can let this debt ride a little longer than a week and get paid, or he won’t ever see Mr. Adamson again.”

“Mr. Grant also mentioned that your wife—Monica? She was engaged to him until a few days ago. Apparently that is a bigger story than the draft.” Ray tilted his head. “If my brother did that to me, he wouldn’t be getting shit from me.”

“You let me worry about my family.” I motioned to the curb. “You get back in your SUV and go talk to Walter. I think he’ll be more interested in getting his fifty large than having you stand on the lawn here trying to look intimidating.”

“The next time I see you—if you’re not putting money in my hand,” he sneered at me, “I’m going to shut your fucking mouth up and carve that tattoo off your neck.”

“That might be more difficult than you think.” I took a step towards him and growled angrily.

“See you soon, Mr. Faulkner.” Ray buttoned his suit jacket and turned back towards his SUV.

The problem was quelled, but it wasn’t solved. I still had to figure out how in the hell I was going to convince my brother to give me fifty thousand dollars when he probably didn’t even want to see me.

The next few days were filled with more happiness than I had ever known. Monica was able to check in on her father almost every day and he seemed to be having a ball in Indian Springs. The MC had put him up in a safe house and had a steady supply of girls stopping by for visits. He told me that—thankfully he didn’t share that news with her.

We had a couple of weeks until the draft, and I still needed to make some money, so I did a few odd jobs when I could. There were several clubs that liked having me around as a bouncer during the weeknights since I worked cheap. During the daytime, I could hit up some of my old contacts to run deliveries if they were local. After putting in a few days and nights, I stopped by my apartment, made sure the rent was paid for another month, and picked up a few personal items. I was already anxious to see Monica again.

“WELCOME HOME—OH YOU brought your toothbrush? Things must be getting serious.” Monica wrapped her arms around me as soon as I stepped into the house.

“I even brought a razor.” I smiled and pulled her closer.

“You shave?” She raised her eyebrows and ran her hand through my beard. “Please don’t.”

“Just a trim.” I laughed and kissed her before walking into the living room where I saw a stack of electronics sitting on the table. “What is all this stuff?”

“You’re not the only one that can earn money.” She grabbed me from behind. “I got you something.”

“Wait, did you steal this stuff?” I scanned the stack of electronics with my eyes, estimating that there was at least a thousand dollars in front of me.

“Yep. How else do you think I kept my father’s weekly payment up? I don’t have a job.” She grabbed a box off the top of the pile. “I got you a new cell phone.”

“Monica...” I shook my head and sighed. “You can’t do that. If you got caught with all this stuff, you would be looking at prison time.”

“What are you doing during the day? You don’t think I know that deliveries is code for drugs?” She put the cell phone box in my hand.

“I’m not delivering drugs, I’m delivering furniture.” I raised my eyebrows. “You think I come home dog tired because I’m carrying ounces across town?”

“Oh.” She shrugged. “No matter, it’s all good now. I’ll sell this stuff tomorrow. I have a friend at a pawn shop that doesn’t ask any questions.”

“Promise me you’re not going to do this again—please.” I put the cell phone on the table beside us. “We’ve got a good thing here. I don’t want to lose you.”

“Chill. I’ve been doing this since I was a kid. I know how to avoid getting caught.” She brushed off my concern with a wave of her hand.

“I’m serious.” I reached out and took her by the arm. “It isn’t worth it.”

“You may be my husband—technically.” She rolled her eyes. “But you’re not my boss.”