Trix
Angel, Kayla and I pulled up to Caesars Palace with Santos in tow. Hatch was right. After a call to our boss and what I’m sure was a massive money exchange, we were cut from our shift early and picked up by a limo.
Memories from the last time I was here pierce me with regret, and I swallow the lump that forms in my throat. So much has changed since my first run-in with Mason. Walking through the giant doors into the casino, I’m not the same girl I was before he crashed into me.
Back then I was floating, unsure of what I wanted. And now, I’m dead set on my future. With this last obstacle keeping us apart, I plan on ending this as soon as possible and putting us both out of our misery.
“I can’t believe how much this job is paying,” Kayla whispers between Angel and me as we all follow Santos to whatever room we’re supposed to report to.
Angel rocks into my hip with hers. “Two grand each, plus tips, and you’re still thinking of quitting?”
She lifts an eyebrow, daring me to say yes. “We could walk in on a bunch of asshole pervs. Would the two grand still be worth it?”
“Fuck yeah, it would.” Kayla giggles at her own enthusiasm. “I’ve never made this kind of money without having to suck dick.”
Angel cackles and gets a glare from Santos that says High-class, ladies. Let’s try to act like it.
She leans into my shoulder. “What’s his problem,” she whispers so he won’t hear. “He’s been funky all night.”
“He just needs to get laid.” Kayla rolls her eyes as if the solution to all men’s problems is just that easy.
The girls quietly giggle the rest of the walk to the room, while I steel myself and muster up courage for the night. Hatch will expect me to drink heavily and pay a lot of attention to the men he’s trying to impress, I’m sure. It’ll be difficult to get more information out of him, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned about these parties, they’re great for eavesdropping.
When powerful men get together, they’re all so busy trying to out peacock the other they don’t even consider the dancer rubbing her tits in their faces is listening to every word they speak.
Diversion by sexual persuasion. PI work at its finest.
We make a turn and stop at a set of double doors. Santos checks the number to his phone then puts it away to knock.
“Holy shit!” Kayla whisper yells. “This is a villa.” Her wide eyes study the door. “I’ve always wanted to see the inside of one of—”
The door swings open, and a guy around my age stares openly at the three of us without greeting, completely ignoring Santos. Dark brown eyes peer out beneath his overgrown hair and rake along our bodies from feet to tits.
I throw a hand on my cocked hip. “You gonna let us in, cowboy?”
His lips curl into a crooked grin. “Hatch!” He calls over his shoulder.
Hatch appears at the mouth of the marble foyer. He barely spares us a glance, and if I’m not mistaken, it looks like he avoided looking at me altogether. “Yep, let ’em in.” He disappears deeper into the place or, rather, palace.
The ceilings are taller than I’ve ever seen in one of these suites, and everything is decorated with an old-world flare that screams rich and pretentious. We stick close to Santos as he follows the younger guy down a long hallway and into a room. There’s a pool table and a bar, similar to the last place, but through the patio doors are a pool, spa, fire pit, and another bar that, even from this distance, I can see is fully stocked.
“Who the hell has this kind of money?” Angel whispers form behind me.
“No clue.” But certainly not Hatch.
“They’re in a meeting. Help yourself to the booze.” The guy who answered the door doesn’t look like anyone I’d ever seen hang around the MC guys. He’s too clean. Too young.
Kayla busies herself behind the bar while I do a slow walk through the room. It’s late, and yet we’re the only ones here? I thought this was supposed to be a party. Unless there’s a separate wing to this place where all the people are stashed . . . I wouldn’t be surprised.
Kayla comes out, holding three drinks between her two hands. “Lemon drops!”
We all grab our shots, and with the lingering throb of a hangover, I choke it down.
“Let’s play pool!” Angel says, and Santos starts to rack up the balls.
“I’ll make more shots!” Kayla grabs my glass and heads back to the bar for round two, which, knowing her, will turn into three and four.
The guy who let us in moves back to a room at the far end of the villa, turns his back to the door, and stands like a guard.
Ah, so that’s where all the people are. Who the hell is behind that door and what are they talking about that’s so important it takes a guard to protect it?
Another drink is shoved into my hand, and I throw it back, this one easier than the first. “One more.”
Kayla squeals and heads back to the bar while Angel takes her first shot at the pool table.
I don’t know what’s going on here tonight, but something tells me whatever it is could bring me closer to finding Lana’s killer.
And back to Mason.
Mason
“You sure you’ll be okay?”
Jessica’s plopped on my couch beneath a blanket with the remote in one hand and a saltine cracker she’s been nibbling on in the other. “How long will you guys be gone?”
Fuck, not any longer than we have to be. “I’ll get him home as soon as I can.”
She blinks rapidly, as if she’s fighting tears. “Do you think . . .?” She swallows hard. “Do you think he’ll let him go?”
Drake’s dad let him out of the family business? Funny, the asshole never acknowledged Drake as being family until the guy was old enough to do is his bidding. Prick.
I blow out a long breath and drop to the couch at her feet. “I have no idea. But I’m going to try my hardest to convince him to.”
She studies the glowing screen of the TV. “The pregnancy changes everything.”
“The baby changes everything, yes.”
Her tired eyes meet mine and her bottom lip quivers.
“It’s okay, Jess. You just worry about taking care of yourself. There’s food in the fridge. Help yourself to whatever you want and try to get some sleep.”
Drake’s heavy footfalls sound as he barrels down the stairs, freshly showered. “Let’s get this shit over with.”
I nod to Jessica, and her gaze slides to my brother. “Be careful. Promise me you’ll be careful, Dr—”
Her words are cut off as my brother presses a kiss to her lips, cupping her jaw with a tenderness I’ve never seen between them before. I push up and move to the kitchen to give them some privacy.
“I’m not giving up on us, Jess. Not you or our baby, understand?”
She mumbles something I can’t hear.
“We’ll get back as soon as we can.” The sound of him kissing her mixes with the sound of her sniffing back tears.
I don’t know what Drake’s dad has planned for us tonight, but my guess is it’ll be nothing more than a stern talking to about me staying out of Drake’s life, keeping my mouth shut about what I’ve seen, and Drake trying to convince the man that his baby is worth him letting him go for.
I’ve always known D’s dad had no soul. I only hope he’s finally grown one. If not, Drake’s fucked.
“This is it.” Drake nods toward the huge doors to a fancy-assed suite of some kind.
Music filters through the doors, hard-hitting bass that would rattle the fuckers if they weren’t made of solid wood.
He hits the glowing orange doorbell, opting out of a simple knock, knowing it won’t be heard over the music. Voices call out, and soon the locks click and the door cracks open to reveal a guy who’s vaguely familiar. One of Drake’s crew.
“Jase, man. What’s up?” Drake shakes hands with the guy, and they pull together for quick back-slapping hug.
“Drake, glad you could make it.” Jase opens the door wider to let us in.
“Like I had a choice?” Drake laughs, but there’s little humor in it. “This is my brother, Mason.”
I nod to Jase, and he doesn’t offer to shake my hand, which is good. I’m not sure who’s an enemy and who’s a friend yet, but if this guy is on Drake’s dad’s crew, he’s an enemy.
“Nice to meet you. You guys got here just in time.” Jase bounces his eyebrows, and I deduct a few years off my original age estimation.
Fuck, these guys are recruiting high school kids. Great.
“My dad around?” Drake asks while Jase leads us through what looks more like a mansion than a damn hotel room.
“He’s here. Been meeting privately with some of the guys, but my guess is they should be finishing up.” Jase continues to head toward the direction of the music. Male voices blend with the occasional girls, no different from a typical Vegas party.
We turn the corner into a large living space filled with partygoers. I scan the area, noting the distinct mix of people. Most of the guys look similar to Drake or me, dressed in some variation of the west-coast semi-casual attire of loose-fitting plaid and Dickies. But the rest are distinctly different. Denim, leather, and in desperate need of a razor, bikers are sprinkled throughout the room.
It’s a damn sausage party in this place, although there are women, but they’re heavily outnumbered. And most of them seem to be of the working variety. A few lean in to men and talk close, and there’s another moving to the music and—holy fuck.
Strippers.
My eyes frantically bounce from a familiar redhead who’s in nothing but her bra and underwear to a brunette who is topless and—dammit, it’s Angel.
Hesitantly, I move deeper into the room to a back corner that’s lined with couches and a small crowd of people. I hear my brother ask where I’m going but wave him off as my feet carry me forward.
The music throbs in my head, matching the pace of my pulse as I push through bodies. My steps falter, and I take in the view before me.
“No fucking way.” Drake’s voice mumbles at my shoulder, surprising me that he followed. “Is that . . .?”
Motherfucking shit.
“Trix.”