Wild Card (Vegas Underground 8)

“So, I told you I won’t help with your dad’s death. But is there anything else I can do for you? Anyone whose kneecaps you want broken?”

I shoot him a sidelong glance. “What?”

He shrugs. “You heard me.”

“You’re serious? Why are you offering?”

“We’re square now, with the money. But you took care of me quite a few times these last two days and I, uh, want to return the favor.”

I blink at him. Am I actually hearing this right?

“So this is like a transaction? I sucked your cock and now you’ll break someone’s kneecaps for me?”

I see that twitch of his lips. “Yeah. Something like that. Does that offend you?”

“Well, I do give good head.” I fall back on crazy-Caitlin because while I am slightly offended, I’m also way turned on.

“You do.”

I laugh. “I can think of quite a few people I’d love to sic you on. My graduate advisor for one. But no, thank you. I’m good.”

Paolo’s hands tighten on the wheel. “What’d he do?”

“Oh he’s just an ass. Let’s just say he didn’t follow through on our blowjob transaction deal.”

Paolo’s brows slam down. “You blew him? And what was he supposed to do for you?”

“He promised me the TA position and then gave it to someone else. But I mean it—I don’t need you to hurt him. I can take care of myself. Can I get a credit for one future ass-beating when needed? Or better yet—” Don’t say it. Don’t sound needy. “Use it on myself?”

He takes his eyes off the road to look at me. He’s hard to read, but I think I catch the traces of amusement in his expression. “Yeah, doll. Sure.”

I’m not certain which thing he’s saying yes to and I won’t let myself ask. He’s circling the graduate housing block where my low-rent graduate student apartment is.

“You can let me out here,” I say, throwing open the door when he stops at a stop sign.

“Nah, I can— “

I’m already out the door. “Thanks for the fun times, Paolo. Catch you on the flip side.” I heave my satchel over my shoulder and wave after I shut the door.

He looks at me through the glass for a beat, then lifts his chin and drives away.

I try to fight the panic chewing through my gut.

It’s not because he’s leaving.

It’s because I’m going to jail very soon.

And that’s all.

I have absolutely no feelings for Paolo Tacone at all.

That would be crazy.

Chapter 7

Paolo

For the first time in my life I’m off-kilter. I don’t consider myself a real emotional guy. If shit upsets me, I bang some heads and I feel better. End of story.

But this is different. It’s a low-level unease. Not anger. Maybe it’s my non-existent fucking conscience waking up. I didn’t like letting Caitlin go, and as the days wear on, that sensation only increases.

I pay a visit to Junior and Gio, my brothers who live locally to find out if they remember anything about Lake West. Neither remembers any more than I do. The guy was shady—possibly a middle man for stolen goods—but not much else. Gio thinks he might have worked for the Russian bratva. Not Vlad’s cell, but an older organization. One we had some uneasy ties with at one point. If that’s true, it could’ve been one of theirs who killed him.

I keep my soldier’s eyes on Trevor West for a few weeks after I let Caitlin go. And I take the job of watching Caitlin myself.

Vlad had no problem transferring and laundering the money from her account and he reported that she deleted its existence completely, which bodes well for her not getting herself caught for the crime she committed.

Still, I keep tabs on her. I like knowing she’s safe. Back at school and teaching her cardio classes. Wearing the hell out of her yoga pants and t-shirts under her red puffy jacket.

I don’t like the deadened expression in her eyes. What bothers me most is thinking I’m the one who put it there.

Except I can’t quite make myself believe that. She found pleasure with me, I’m sure of it. She may have used sex to inure me to her, but those orgasms weren’t faked.

God knows I found pleasure with her. She’s an addiction. Now that she’s gone, now that she’s taken that aura of chaos she carries with her away, my house feels empty.

I find out her graduate advisor is a guy named Noah Alden and I pay him a visit in his office. The guy screams pompous ass from ten miles away. He’s short and slovenly dressed with a paunchy belly. I’m pissed that Caitlin’s lips were anywhere near this guy’s junk. In fact, I want to kill him just for that. But that’s not why I’m here.

I break into the guy’s office and sit down in his chair to wait for him. He nearly pisses himself when he finds me there.