King of Diamonds (Vegas Underground 1)

“Get in the car, baby.” He grabs my suitcase by the handle and lifts his chin toward the door.

My knees wobble as I walk, but I manage to pick up my purse and toddle to the door. Tacone’s right behind me, carrying my suitcase. Neither of us look back as we go out.

Nico

I had some romantic notion about treating Sondra like a lady and taking her on a date. That idea died a quick death when I saw the flare of fear in her eyes and the marks on her arms.

Fucking bastard. I seriously want to kill the motherfucker for handling my girl.

Yeah, I may have been trying to pretend I hadn’t already claimed Sondra Simonson, but I have.

It’s too late for her.

The devil takes what the devil wants. And I want her.

I have the power of dark fury still running through my veins, which makes me feel invincible, but I try to rein it back.

Sondra’s terrified. As scared as she was the day I met her. Fuck. Was it because of me? What I did back there? I have to remember she’s not used to seeing guys get their noses broken.

I throw her suitcase in the trunk of the Lamborghini and open the passenger door for her. After I get in the driver side and start the car, I have to ask, “Sondra, he didn’t—”

“No.” She shakes her head. And then, to my utter demolishment, she bursts into tears.

“Baby.” My hands grip the steering wheel tight enough to crush it. “Fuck.”

“I’m okay.” She sniffs. “It’s just been a long day.”

“I’m sorry. I know I’m part of that. Or maybe all of it?” I give her a sidelong glance.

She shakes her head.

Thank fuck.

“Y-you’re not going to...do anything else to him. Right?”

Do I want to whack the guy? Totally. If she told me he’d raped her, I definitely would. But no. The whole reason I left Chicago to open a casino in Vegas was because I wanted to get out of the underworld. I run a legit business. I keep the blood off my hands as much as possible.

“You want me to do anything else?” I just want to be sure.

She shakes her head quickly. No surprise there.

“Then, no. I won’t touch him again. So long as he gets his ass out of there.”

She twists her fingers in her lap. “What if he doesn’t?”

I grind my teeth. “Then I’ll make sure he does.”

“Not by killing him.”

I look over. Sondra Simonson put her foot down about something. I rather enjoy hearing the steel in her voice, almost as much as I like it when she yields to me. “Yeah, okay. I’ll just relocate him.”

She wipes at the drying tears on her face. “Where are you taking me?”

“To the Bellissimo. I’m going to get you a suite there—no charge, no obligation. You need a decent fucking bed to sleep in.” I tinge my voice with finality and she doesn’t argue. I can’t stand knowing she’s been sleeping in the townhouse with that asshole hovering nearby.

After a long moment, she gives a soft, “Thanks.”

The squeeze of my heart surprises me. “For what?”

She picks at a thread on her jean shorts. “I’m glad you showed up when you did.”

Now I want to go back and kill the guy. Not touching her is definitely no longer an option. I reach over and palm her nape, stroking my thumb along the column of her neck. “You tell me if you see that guy again.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Sondra pales again and I feel a little shudder run through her.

Hell. She’s scared of me. But maybe that’s for the best. She should be scared of me. She should lock her door and stay way the fuck away.

Sondra

I’m shaky and shocked. Maybe that’s why I’m not at all afraid of Nico Tacone this time. I’m actually feeling strangely comforted and cared for, which is stupid, because I know this man is incredibly dangerous. Heck, I just saw him pull a gun on someone. Again.

And yet, he was defending me, so suddenly his danger shifted into heroism. I know Corey would say I’m listening to The Voice of Wrong again.

And oh God! What will Corey say about Dean?

Will she blame me for this? Blame Nico when Dean leaves? Will Dean leave? I hope, for his sake, he does. Actually, I hope for all of our sakes.

Tacone pulls up to the front circle of the Bellissimo and steps out of the car. The valet rushes over to open my door. Tacone tosses him the keys. “There’s a suitcase in the trunk.”

“Of course, Mr. Tacone.”

He escorts me inside, bypassing the line to reception and walking straight up to an empty station. The bellhop trails us with my suitcase. One of the employees rushes over.

“I need a comp suite for Ms. Simonson.”