The Bad and the Beautiful

THE BAD AND THE BEAUTIFUL

…Vincent gripped David’s chin. “Say it now then.” “Little late for that, isn’t it?” The tip of his tongue appeared, sweeping over his bottom lip. “You met me.” “You know your way back to the Thunderbird. I could leave you here if you want.” “What about what you want?” “I think it’s pretty clear what I want,” Vincent murmured, stepping closer so his erection pressed against David’s hip. David whimpered. That was the only word for it. One of his hands fluttered at Vincent’s waist before finally settling along the hip. The touch was fragile, like David wasn’t sure he wouldn’t get his wrist snapped for trying, and Vincent pushed harder, erasing once and for all any doubts David might have had about his interest. “It’s kind of funny, actually.” David flexed the hand on Vincent’s hip until his thumb ran along the side of Vincent’s cock. “That’s what I want, too.” There were more reasons to walk away from David than there were to take advantage of the situation. But the time to remember those reasons had long since passed. He felt like he was drugged. Like something heavy and strong was swimming through his veins. “Not here. I can get a room upstairs.” “You don’t want to take it back to my suite?” Those strokes continued, faint but long and even, stopping beneath the head and traveling nearly all the way to his balls. “I’ll play for you. And then we don’t have to worry about stopping to go home.” He craned closer, his mouth only a breath away. “I don’t want to have to stop, Vince…”

ALSO BY JAMIE CRAIG At The Advent Of Dusk Calendar Boys Series: January – December Clandestine Love Cowboy Blues Double Down Fortune’s Honor From Dusk To Dawn His Very Own An Innocent Proposition Keeping Time A Little Bit Bewitched Lucky Haunts The Master Chronicles, Book I – X No Novelty Nowhere Man On The Ragged Edge Of The World Pas De Deux Queen Of Diamonds Serendipity Star Attraction Stealing Northe Stealing West Sticks And Stones Tempting Fortune Those Who Cherish Time In A Bottle To Taste The Dawn Wearing Death

THE BAD AND THE BEAUTIFUL BY JAMIE CRAIG

AMBER Q UILL PRESS, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com

THE BAD AND THE B EAUTIFUL AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2010 by Pepper Espinoza & Vivien Dean ISBN 978-1-60272-643-7 Cover Art © 2010 Trace Edward Zaber

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PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

THE BAD AND THE BEAUTIFUL

CHAPTER 1 His legs were stiff, his ass was sore, and he was going to run screaming in the opposite direction with his fingers in his ears the next time someone tried convincing him it would be a great adventure to travel halfway across the country with a bus full of sweaty strangers and a driver who made his Aunt Arleen look like a hot-rodder. But right then, right there, standing inside the foyer of the Thunderbird Casino, David Lonergan forgot all of that. The massive neon eagle perched atop the hotel’s roof had been a showstopper, but the front lobby countered that lavish display with a coziness that didn’t try hiding how much money must have been spent on the joint. The southwestern theme of the exterior carried throughout the warm, open space, earthy oranges, browns, 1

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and reds, practically making the room glow. Instead of more traditional landscapes or bowls of fruit adorning the walls, Navajo portraits gazed back at him. Three different fireplaces blazed, countering the chill of the March evening, and standing next to the concierge was a willowy blonde David would’ve sworn he’d seen in the last Gene Kelly movie. Slim fingers pinched his arm. “Don’t stare.” Rubbing at the sore spot, David scowled at the woman at his side. “I’m not staring.” Kate Ennis cocked a perfectly arched, slim brow. Though she’d traveled with him all the way from Chicago’s south side, just as cramped as he’d been on the bus, she could have stepped straight off the stage, minus her costume. Not a single auburn hair was out of place. She didn’t even have a crease on her cheek from falling asleep against the window like he had. If he didn’t adore his cousin so much, he’d hate her for looking so perfect. When she didn’t utter a word, David rolled his eyes and turned back to the lobby. “Fine. But look at it. It’s not exactly the Left Hook, now is it?” “Yeah, but it’s going to be better than Chez Paree. Just you wait.” Color pinked her cheeks, and her eyes glittered with excitement. David didn’t think she’d come back down to earth once since she’d accepted the job offer. “Did you know Rosemary Clooney sang here? Jimmy said that’s how she got into the pictures. There was an agent out in the audience, and just like that!” She snapped her fingers. “She’s in Hollywood.” He bit back his grin at her enthusiasm. “And the fact that ‘Come On-a My House’ sold a million records didn’t count for nothing, I bet.” Bending over, he picked up the suitcases he’d dropped when they’d walked in. His wasn’t that heavy, but Kate 2

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had managed to cram everything she owned into the battered case Nannie Nora had given her. He needed his hands to work well enough to play tomorrow. Finding a bellboy soon to carry it all the way to Kate’s room moved to the top of his list. “Come on. Let’s check in.” David moved toward the front desk, but had to pause several times to wait for Kate to catch up with him. She would have time to explore later, but he didn’t want to risk the two of them getting separated until they were both settled in their rooms. “Good evening, sir. How can I help you?” The young man on the other side of the reception desk looked out of place, somehow. Like he, too, was a recent transplant from Chicago and hadn’t yet grown accustomed to his new home. “Yes. My name is David Lonergan. This is Kate Ennis.” The young man’s smile shifted. Now it looked almost genuine rather than merely polite. “Oh, yes, we’ve been expecting you. Wait right here.” Before David could ask what he was waiting for, the man disappeared. “Did you hear that?” Kate demanded, clutching at his arm. “Jimmy’s been waiting for me. Oh, I can’t wait to see him. But I need to freshen up. Do you think I have time to freshen up?” “No, I think…” “Mr. Lonergan. Ms. Ennis.” The deep voice stopped David short. Unsure of what to expect, he turned to observe the source. A mountain of a man stood in front of him. David was tall, but this man had at least six inches on him. His hair was long—like he hadn’t bothered to get it cut in the past several months—and flopped over his brow above narrow, dark eyes. It was difficult to place his age. He could have been 3

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twenty-five or forty-five. There was a look, a hardness around his mouth and eyes, that David had long ago learned to recognize. He was born and bred in the Chicago’s underworld. Nobody would cross him and live to tell about it. “Shorty!” Kate greeted. “Where’s Jimmy?” “He’s waiting for you.” David swallowed against the sudden dryness of his throat and self-consciously stood straighter. Something about this man made him wish he wasn’t nearly so rumpled from the trip. “You go ahead, Kate. I’ll make sure your bag gets to your room.” “Frankie will see to the bags. The boss wants to see you, too.” His eyes went wide. “Really? Why?” Kate slapped his arm. “Because he wants to meet you, you ninny. He’s only heard you play.” Linking her arm through his, she shot him a dazzling smile. “I’m sure he wants to see if you live up to everything I’ve told him about you.” David sighed. “Gee, that makes me feel better.” “He’s very eager to speak with you,” Shorty said, gesturing for the two of them to follow. Kate had to walk quickly to match the man’s long strides, but her smile never faded. David didn’t blame her. Jimmy Moretti had personally invited her to his kingdom in the desert. “All the suites are on the third floor. That’s where the two of you will be staying as well.” It was on the tip of his tongue to argue he didn’t need a suite, but David knew before they hit the hallway it would be pointless. It was more than knowing Jimmy would likely take it as an insult, if word ever got back to him. The set of Shorty’s shoulders was all David needed to know anything he said was carved in stone. Though he knew he shouldn’t, his gaze flickered down the man’s back. The perfectly tailored suit accentuated his lean hips 4

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and long legs, and his ass… David snapped his focus up again. Off-limits, that’s what looking at Jimmy Moretti’s right-hand man was. Because getting caught would mean getting his balls cut off. And that would be if he was lucky. His cheeks remained hot as Shorty guided them into the elevator. Kate kept chattering away, but the ride to the third floor was too short to really respond to her. It did mean, however, that she didn’t know how he flushed he was, but even if she said anything about it, David was fully prepared to use the long trip as an excuse. He was tired, which was the truth anyway. And Las Vegas was hotter than Chicago, even if it was nighttime and the middle of March. When the elevator stopped, Shorty stepped out and turned sideways, using his arm to block the door from closing before they could get out. David caught a whiff of his cologne as he passed, something musky he didn’t recognize. It made him a little hard, and a whole lot dizzy, and the only way he could banish the rush it elicited was focusing on who he was about to meet. Jimmy Moretti was a name most people recognized in Chicago. He had been the man the Outfit had called on in City Hall. He was one of Curly Humphreys’s men, and had been sent from Chicago to Las Vegas to continue his promising career as a front man. He had a good head for business, but an even better head for blackmail. David knew all of this second and third hand, but there was always plenty of talk in the clubs after the alcohol had been flowing. Shorty knocked once on the door at the end of the hallway before pushing it open, revealing a room that might have come out of A Thousand And One Nights. It was decorated in the same 5

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earthy tones as the lobby, but every single item, every single inch, betrayed Jimmy’s wealth. David followed Kate into the room and couldn’t shake the feeling that he was stepping into a completely alien world. This must have been what it was like to step into the witch’s gingerbread house. “There’s my girl.” David was left hovering by the doorway when Kate stepped hurriedly forward to slide into Jimmy’s embrace. Though he wasn’t a particularly tall man, he still topped her by several inches, his body hard and trim as he pulled her against it. He bent and brushed his wide mouth across her cheek, lingering at her ear to murmur something meant only for her to hear. Kate laughed. Her eyes were brighter than ever when she twisted to wave David closer. “Jimmy, this is my cousin David, the best piano player in Chicago.” As he approached, David put on the smile he used whenever he was onstage, the one meant to appease an audience who might glance in his direction when their attention could be torn away from the siren at the microphone. He loved to perform, but even after a decade of doing it professionally, he still felt uncomfortable whenever the spotlight shone directly on him. He thrust out his hand. “It’s an honor to finally meet you, Mr. Moretti. Thank you so much for this opportunity.” The other man grasped his hand firmly. “I should be thanking you. I heard you playing with Kate before. I was really impressed. You’ve got a hell of a career ahead of you.” His smile was as much proud as it was pleased. “Let’s hope Las Vegas feels the same way.” “I’m sure it will.” He released David’s hand and turned back to Kate. As soon as he did, David realized that Jimmy was more or 6

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less done with him. “Now, I’ve got a special dinner prepared, and I hope you’ll both join me.” As much as he didn’t want to feel like a third wheel for what was obviously going to be a romantic reunion, he was stuck smiling and agreeing. He owed Jimmy too much to possibly beg off. Kate, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have the same qualms. “Maybe David could take his back to his room?” She gazed up at him with pleading eyes. David sincerely doubted there was a man alive who could resist them. “The trip was so long, and he never did get comfortable. He was folded up like a pretzel most of the way, trying to get his legs to fit right.” Jimmy looked from her to David and back again. “Of course, he can if that’s what he would prefer.” Escape sounded like heaven. He’d find some way to make it up to Kate later. “Thanks, Mr. Moretti. I really could use a decent night sleep so I don’t let Kate down tomorrow for her first big show.” “Very well. Shorty, show Mr. Lonergan to his suite. After that, you can take the rest of the night off.” “Yes, sir.” With one last grateful smile at Kate, he followed Shorty back to the hallway. They turned toward the elevators, and he quickened his step to fall in beside the man rather than trail behind like a kid. “So how long have you been in Vegas?” “A year.” Shorty stopped outside of 302 and pulled a key from his jacket pocket. The door opened to a suite that wasn’t quite as decadent as the one he just left, but still far richer than anything David was used to. “This is your new home. Through there, you got your piano. If you need anything at all, you speak to me or 7

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Jules. He’s the guy down at the front desk.” David nodded, because finding words was impossible. It wasn’t just that the warm décor surpassed his wildest dreams, or that the bed in the attached bedroom was big enough for three people let alone a skinny guy like him, or that the drawn curtains revealed a balcony overlooking the desert as far as the eye could see. Those were all fantastic in their own right, but what took his breath away was the baby grand sitting casually at the edge of the sitting area, a beautiful ebony piece of art that drew him forward to run his fingers delicately along its edge. “This is a Grotrian-Steinweg,” he said, his voice hushed in awe. “Jimmy’s really going to let me play this?” “It’s your piano. It’d be a waste if you didn’t play it.” David stared at Shorty. “It’s a Grotian-Steinweg,” he repeated. “Are you sure it’s not supposed to be downstairs for me to play for Kate’s shows?” Shorty shrugged. “There’s one downstairs in the club, too. They both got here yesterday. The boss said only the best should be backing Miss Ennis.” He’d believe that, but the money it would’ve taken to get not one, but two Grotrian-Steinwegs shipped from Germany was more than he’d see in fifty years of tickling the ivories. He rounded the front of the piano, sliding reverently onto the soft leather bench. The keys gleamed, freshly polished, whispering to him to caress and coax them into filling the room with music. He could even see a distorted reflection of himself in the black wood, his torso tense as he lifted his hands. Middle C sang out, rich and clear. The key seemed extra cool, or maybe his hands were extra hot, but David knew he wouldn’t be able to stop with just one note. He picked out the top line of some 8

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Brahms he always played for Nannie on Sundays after church, but it only took a few bars of that to entice him into adding the rest of it. The sound was unlike anything he had ever produced before. He didn’t exactly have many chances to play Brahms in the clubs, and even if he did have the opportunity, it seemed disrespectful to pound out such music on an old upright. He closed his eyes, calling up each note from deep within his memory. The room fell away. He forgot he wasn’t alone. He forgot about the horrible ride from Chicago to Vegas, and forgot about stepping out of the smelly, cramped bus and into the wave of hot air at the bus depot. When he opened his eyes again, his attention fell on Shorty. For the first time, a bit of the mask slipped. His dark eyes had been cold and distant before, but now they seemed to be the same rich, warm color of the piano itself. He slipped into some Gershwin, unable to look away from Shorty. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to thank Jimmy for this. This is the best piano I’ve ever played.” “You don’t need to do anything to thank him. Just keep playing like that, and he’ll be happy.” Shorty took a half-step toward the piano. “Who taught you?” “A few people. Honestly, I don’t remember not playing. The way my mother tells it, when I was two, I managed to crawl away from her during Mass one Sunday. She found me sitting next to the organ, just watching Mrs. Turner play. Next Sunday, same thing. After a month of not being able to keep me away, she gave up and just passed me over as soon as they got to church.” David grinned. Soft, sugar-scented Mrs. Turner had been a welcome haven, the encouragement he’d needed when the other boys on the block had mocked his music. 9

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“I guess that means you’re a natural talent.” He nodded toward the phone. “You can call down and order your dinner and whatever you’re drinking. Kitchen is open all night.” His lips twitched into what must have been a smile and David felt a small thrill at the sight. “Nobody ever sleeps in Vegas.” Shorty had taken one step when David found the nerve to ask, “Have you eaten yet?” “No. Just on my way downstairs.” “If you don’t have plans or anything, I’d like it if you stayed.” His gaze shifted down to his fingers. It was easier to ask if he could focus on the piano. “Maybe you can fill me in on what I can expect around here. Or what’s expected of me.” Shorty inclined his head and crossed the room to the phone. “What’s expected of you is easy. Just keep the people happy and drinking. What do you want to eat?” “Whatever’s good. Maybe something with chicken? And beer. Wait, no, not beer.” As tired as he was, and considering he’d already made the mistake of ogling Shorty from behind, he did not need to make matters worse by getting drunk in front of the man, too. “A soda or something. Whatever they’ve got.” “Whatever they’ve got is whatever a person could want.” Shorty picked up the phone, punched in two numbers, and then spoke in rapid Italian. The hint of a smile David had seen before returned, and that was even accompanied with a chuckle. David felt more than a little jealous of whoever Shorty was talking to— whoever had the power to make him drop his guard long enough to laugh. “Right. They’ll have dinner up here in twenty minutes.” “Am I going to have to order in Italian any time I want to eat?” He swung into some jazz, unwilling to stop playing just yet. “Looks like I’ll be living on pasta, then, because that’s about as 10

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much as I can say.” “Nah, it’s just easier. First thing Jimmy did when he was put in charge here was go to Sicily and dig up Angelo. I don’t know how he found the bastard, but he can cook like nobody’s business. When you want food, you just call down directly to Jules. He’ll take care of it.” David nodded. He wasn’t so sure what more he could say. He’d known things were going to change by coming to Las Vegas with Kate, but he’d never thought they’d change this much. For Kate, sure, she was the one who’d caught Jimmy Moretti’s eye. But he was just a piano player. If things went the way Kate hoped, she’d be moving on to bigger and better things. Maybe even Hollywood. All he wanted was to play. He looked through his lashes to see Shorty taking a seat in the sunken living room. “I take requests, by the way. Anything you want to hear?” “Anything I want to hear?” “Anything.” He smiled. “Unless you pick something I don’t know, in which case, I’ll have to fake it.” “You’ll know this one. Stardust.” Everybody knew Stardust. It was one of the first songs David had learned how to play for an audience. He could play it with his ears plugged and his eyes shut, but he didn’t want to phone in this performance for Shorty. He had the overwhelming desire to impress the man, to prove Kate wasn’t the only one in the family who knew how to entertain. This song would get the special Lonergan touch. Ducking his head, he started the song the way everybody knew it, the quirky melody taking charge. He let it play out through the first verse, made even more crystal clear by the rich tone of the 11

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Steinweg, but on the second pass, he began to riff on it, swinging it higher than it normally went, then bringing it back down to slide into the chorus. Times like this, he wished he had a decent enough voice to sing along. Kate would do it justice, but he wanted Shorty to like it for him, not for her voice. His playing would have to suffice. David had never been interested in being the center of attention. Which was good, because when he was on the stage with Kate, he completely faded into the background. But now he realized how seductive the center stage could be. Shorty watched him with unwavering attention, his eyes half-lidded, his hands steepled in front of him. He didn’t otherwise react until the final notes hung in the air and he clapped. “The boss went on and on about you and Miss Ennis. I thought he might just be distracted by a pretty face.” Heat crept into David’s cheeks, but he was too pleased by Shorty’s compliment to bother hiding it. “Considering how pretty Kate is, that’s not necessarily a bad bet.” “I might not be all wrong. I’ve never heard her sing.” “Trust me.” He finally dropped his hands from the keys. “She’ll knock your socks off tomorrow night.” “I’m looking forward to it. She must be something if she can keep up with you.” Without playing, David didn’t know how to keep from fidgeting. Shorty’s steady gaze was as arresting as the rest of him, eyes deep enough to get lost in. The hair on David’s arms kept prickling as his thoughts strayed to corners they had no right being in, but he couldn’t hold them at bay, not when Shorty wouldn’t look away. “So who else is on the bill? Kate didn’t know, but I figure she’s 12

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not the only act, not if Jimmy wants to ever see her.” “You’ll be playing two shows a night, five nights a week. You’ll have a dinner break, and then be done by one.” Shorty shrugged. “That could change though, depending on what the boss wants. You’ll get used to that.” Changes didn’t bother David too much, but the prospect of being done at one renewed his excitement about being in Vegas. That gave him plenty of time to go out afterward and find his own fun. “But I get to do what I want on my own time, right?” “Well, sure. You’re not a prisoner. If you need a driver, let me know. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” His eyes shot wide. “Oh. Okay. I wasn’t expecting that. I figured I’d have to shell out for a taxi or a bus or something.” “There aren’t really any busses and I wouldn’t trust the taxis.” Shorty leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’ll level with you, Mr. Lonergan. The boss likes your cousin. He likes her a lot. It wouldn’t surprise me if he married her, which means sooner or later, you’re going to be family.” Though he’d wondered as much, considering the lengths Jimmy Moretti had taken to get Kate to Las Vegas, hearing it said out loud left him stunned. The only thing he could blurt out was, “David.” “What?” His ears were hot. “Call me David. Please. Every time I hear Mr. Lonergan, I start looking for my Da.” “All right. David. Everybody around here just calls me Shorty.” In spite of his earlier embarrassment, he couldn’t suppress his grin. “They don’t call you anything else? I mean, no offense, but it feels a little weird to have to look up to a guy named Shorty.” 13

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“My uncle Joe started calling me Shorty when I was a kid. He thought it was funny since I hit my first growth spurt when I was eight. I think just about everybody has forgotten my actual name.” “What is it?” “Vincent Accardo, at your service.” As glad as he was to have a real name to put on the guy, the reality of who he was made David sit straight. Accardo. As in Joe Accardo. As in the most powerful man in Chicago’s underworld. Shorty wasn’t family through loyalty, or marriage. He was family through blood. The Boss’s nephew, with a personally bestowed nickname. Sliding from the piano bench, David strode to the couch and stuck out his hand. “The pleasure’s all mine, Vince.” His massive hand positively engulfed David’s. “Just remember that if you ask for me by that name, nobody will know who you’re talking about.” But David would. And the prospect that he and Vince would have a sort of secret, just between the two of them, made the knowledge all the better.

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CHAPTER 2 David hated the spotlight, but he sure as hell loved the applause that came afterward, the ringing in his ears when people threw everything they felt about the performance into the simple act of putting their hands together. He loved the warmth that filled the room, and not the heat that came from the flood of spotlights. It was all those bodies, crammed into one space, sitting on the edge of their seats, hanging on every note, trusting Kate and David to make them smile, or ache, or whatever emotion they felt like sharing with the audience. Those seconds before they walked off, leaving strangers behind who’d hopefully be thinking of them when they crawled into bed with their lovers, those were why he endured the spotlight. Those made it all worth it. 15

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Those, and the way Kate practically glowed with happiness when people called her back for an encore. She deserved everything she could get. As soon as they came offstage, the stage manager, a short, round little man with a moustache that made his mouth disappear, thrust enough flowers into her arms to completely obscure the bodice of the white diaphanous gown Jimmy had given her for her opening night. David smiled when she buried her face in the fragrant blooms. “Lemme guess. They’re from Jimmy.” She peeked over the pink and red petals. “Who else?” “Did you see him in the audience?” “Didn’t you?” David was too focused on the music to see much of anything during the show, but he nodded indulgently. Pulling at his tie, he loosened his tight collar, moaning softly at the relief of fresh air. “We deserve a drink. Something special. How about I order us a bottle of champagne so we can celebrate in style?” Her attention was fixed on something beyond his shoulder. “No, I think Jimmy might have a different idea.” David spun to see Jimmy standing near the door. Incredibly, there were another dozen roses cradled in his arms. His attention immediately jumped from his cousin’s beau to the man who was obviously his shadow. Vince stood off to the side, his impossibly large frame looking as graceful as ever in his dark suit. When he noticed David looking at him, he nodded. Kate rushed past him and headed straight for Jimmy. The flowers got in the way of a full embrace, but she swept them into one arm to better press into Jimmy’s side, tilting her head up to kiss his cheek. 16

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David was slower to follow, but Vince was a magnet, whether he liked it or not. When he’d finally fallen asleep the night before, his dreams had been a jumble of forbidden images, dark eyes fixed on his, arms too strong to be contained in his crisp white shirt, broad shoulders looming over him and blocking out the light. He’d woken up so hard, he’d had no choice but to jerk off. He’d gotten hard again in the shower, but he was too awake by then to get any pleasure out of relieving himself. He’d turned the water to cold instead. It was easier to bear the guilt that way. “I was just telling your cousin that I’d like to take you both to dinner at the Flamingo,” Jimmy said as David approached. “To celebrate your Las Vegas debut.” “We can order champagne there,” Kate added. He didn’t need the extra incentive. All he’d seen of the city so far was the bus depot, his room, and the way through the hotel to the stage. “The Flamingo sounds great. Thanks, Mr. Moretti.” Kate beamed with her usual enthusiasm, and slid her arm through Jimmy’s. He smiled down at her, and the two of them were clearly lost in their own world as they turned to the exit. Vince caught his eye again but this time flashed a small grin and gestured with his hand, as if to say after you. Jimmy’s car idled in front of the hotel’s entrance. Jimmy disentangled himself from Kate’s grip long enough to open the back door for her with a flourish. She slid onto the seat, the very picture of elegance, and David realized he did not want to join them in the narrow space. When he saw Vince ease behind the wheel, he wasn’t so sure the other option was much better. But someone opened the passenger side door, and that sure felt like his butt sliding onto the cool leather seat, and then the darkness wrapped around both of 17

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them, the glow of the lights on the dashboard highlighting the harsh angles of Vince’s face. Kate’s giggle drifted from behind them. The only way not to have to listen to it the whole way to the Flamingo would be to talk. To Vince. “So…” He deliberately kept his gaze forward, pretending to care more about the bright lights than the man sitting next to him. “Did you get to watch the show tonight?” “Of course. You were good.” “Kate had the audience eating out of the palm of her hand.” Vince looked up to the rearview mirror before pulling onto the Boulevard. “Yeah, and it wasn’t just the audience.” The sounds coming from the back only confirmed it. “Told you she could sing. We should’ve bet on it. I probably would’ve made a fortune off you.” “I don’t gamble.” That finally drew David’s gaze. “You’re in Vegas. How can you not gamble?” “The house always wins and I’m no sucker. I suggest you keep that in mind.” “I never thought you were a sucker.” “No, I meant you shouldn’t forget the house always wins. Every single time.” “Oh. Right.” He felt more than a little dumb for not realizing that was what Vince had meant. His thoughts were too focused on the man himself. “Well, gambling’s not really my style anyway. I’m not so good at bluffing.” “Good. Glad to hear it. So…you liking it here?” “Sure. What I’ve seen of it anyway.” “If you want to go out, don’t be shy about getting yourself a car 18

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and a driver.” Vince had said the same thing the night before, a reminder that David was hardly a prisoner. He appreciated the offer, but he’d spent more than a few minutes considering it already, and he wasn’t so sure he was ready for that yet. Kate didn’t have any problems at all accepting Jimmy’s hospitality, but David was used to fending for himself. He’d eventually cave and do what was necessary to get around, but only for as long as it took him to save up enough to buy a car of his own. He didn’t care if he got a lemon or if it was held together with bale wire. He was going to be independent as soon as he possibly could. “I’m excited about seeing the Flamingo,” he admitted. “Is it as great as they say?” “It might be better than that. Say what you will about Bugsy Siegel, he knew what he wanted. Knew how to get it, too. I always kind of regretted I never got the chance to meet him.” That was regret David didn’t share, though he refrained from saying so. Before meeting Jimmy, his exposure to the more powerful members of the Outfit had been at a distance. He’d always preferred it that way. It was safer by a long shot. “You must meet a lot of people, though, doing what you do.” Too late, he realized what that sounded like and rushed to add, “Working for Jimmy, I mean.” “Sure. Lots of people coming and going all the time. The boss likes to have his parties, you know. The Thunderbird isn’t as big as the Flamingo or the Stardust, but it still gets plenty of people. Especially coming in from Hollywood.” “Kate’ll be happy about that. She keeps talking about getting discovered.” He glanced over his shoulder, but both Kate and Jimmy seemed oblivious to the fact they were being discussed. “I 19

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don’t know how Jimmy feels about that.” “Getting discovered. That’s funny.” “Why do you say that?” “Hollywood’s just like Vegas. It’s a racket. Kate wants to be in pictures, the boss can get her there.” David smiled. “Let’s just hope she gives me time to get some roots here before she takes off, then.” “Never met anybody with roots in Vegas.” “Well, it’s either that, or go back to Chicago if she decides she wants to be a starlet, too. And going back would feel too much like admitting I made a mistake in leaving.” “Why? Did you plan on leaving and never going back?” “Not never.” He debated for a moment how much to say, then decided to hell with it. Vince wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t want to know. “It’s just…my parents never discouraged my music, but to them, it’s not how you make a living. It’s for fun, or for special occasions. I was making enough to pay my bills, but not much more. Not enough to be able to raise a family, or help my parents out when they get older. If I go back for good, it’ll be tough to say I want to stick with my piano and not get a job at the mill, or the paper, or something. But I don’t want to do anything except play.” Vince glanced over at him, and there was just enough light from the Strip to illuminate the confusion in his eyes. Like David had just said something so strange, Vince didn’t know how to interpret it. “I can’t remember the last time I met somebody like you.” David wasn’t entirely sure what Vince meant by that, but his voice didn’t hold any recriminations. It almost sounded like a compliment, even. “You don’t think that makes me selfish?” 20

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“Maybe you’ve gotta be more selfish.” “More?” He laughed. “I already feel like all I look out for is me.” “Who else is going to do it?” “Well, nobody, but I’m already chasing my dream. I don’t know how much more selfish I can get.” “Trust me, there are lots of ways you could be more selfish. Lots of guys I meet, they can’t see past themselves. All they care about is what they want and what they can get. They have a way of finding bad ends.” “I’m not most guys, then.” Neon appeared through the windshield, red and pink and orange and yellow splashing across the road and onto the car as they approached the front of the Flamingo. David straightened, craning his neck to the side to gawp at the tower rising next to it, lit up in pale yellow and white like it was covered in crystals. “Damn. It just lights up the sky, doesn’t it?” “It does. The biggest and the best, like Bugsy wanted.” Vince navigated the car right up to the main entrance. As soon as he stopped, attendants pulled open the car doors. The lights were even brighter once he stepped out of the car, and for the first time, David really understood Las Vegas’s reputation as the city that never sleeps. They fought off the enveloping night with countless neon lights and endless parties. “I’ve reserved the best table in the house,” Jimmy promised as they wound their way through the casino to the Flamingo’s highly praised restaurant. Kate walked with her arm linked through his, with David following a few steps behind, and Vince bringing up the rear. As they passed through the bustling area, people paused to wave and smile at Jimmy, or to steal a second glance of his 21

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beautiful date. Chicago had its own attractions, and David had certainly seen his share of plenty of its clubs. But as they walked through the casino toward the lounge and restaurant, he felt like the country mouse transfixed by the city allure. The scents, the heat, the noise, it was all overpowering. Expensive perfumes battled with alcohol, the call of croupiers mingled with laughter. The actress he’d seen last night at the Thunderbird sat at a blackjack table between two expensively dressed young men, but hers wasn’t the only familiar face in the crowd. He had to deliberately focus on Jimmy and Kate in front of him in order not to stare. They were led toward tables near the front of the room, almost to the edge of the thrust stage. A band was in full swing, though not a singer in sight. Probably on break, he thought before his attention was jerked back to the pair of adjoining tables the host brought them to. David waited as Jimmy and Kate sat nearest to the stage, oblivious to everyone but each other. When Vince took the seat with his back to the wall, David slid into the one remaining at his table. A bottle of champagne appeared as if by magic, and David looked over to see a matching bottle positioned between Jimmy and Kate. She watched raptly as Jimmy popped the cork, laughing as a little bubbled over the top. “Do you like champagne?” Vince asked. David met his dark eyes with a smile. “Doesn’t everyone?” “I don’t drink it. You’re going to have to finish the bottle on your own.” He looked between the full bottle, to their empty glasses, and back to Vince again. “You don’t drink. And you don’t gamble. Do you have any vices at all?” 22

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“Just one.” “One.” He waited for Vince to elaborate, but when it didn’t come, prompted, “And it is…?” Vince shook his head. “Let’s just say the boss isn’t the only one around here who gets distracted by a…pretty face.” Sharp jealousy cut through him at all the nameless women who’d likely distracted Vince Accardo through the years. He did his best to mask it by focusing on the champagne, pouring himself a healthy glass and downing half of it before responding. “That must be tough around here.” He gestured with his glass to the sea of beautiful people throughout the room. “Everybody dressed to the nines, all the women so perfect. Chicago doesn’t look like this.” “It does. You just probably haven’t been looking in the right places.” He waved his hand dismissively. “And it’s not so tough to avoid temptation around here. Especially when you know what’s lurking beneath the glitz.” He swung his head back, his smile returned, looser now, thanks to the first fire of the alcohol. “So does it count as a vice if you don’t actually indulge it?” “It counts as a vice while indulging in it.” “But if you can avoid all this temptation, what kind of pretty face does it take to get you to actually fall?” He was teasing Vince, and he knew it, but damn if he didn’t like the way the man tracked everything David did whenever he spoke. It was just part of his job—watch everything—but for here, for now, David was going to pretend it meant something else. “Do you have someone back in Chicago, pining away until you get back?” “No, nobody back in Chicago. I like a pretty face who can surprise me. Somebody who’s not the same as everybody else 23

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around here. Course, I’m not always picky. Sometimes you have an itch and gotta scratch it.” “A guy like you, you probably got no problem finding someone to give you a scratch.” He gulped down the rest of his champagne and reached for the bottle again. His only hope to banish the images Vince’s words had elicited was to drown them, though he strongly suspected that even through the bubbly haze, he’d see that large, powerful body flexing and sweating as it decided to use David to satisfy his itch. “Me, I’ll probably have to put my back into it. Nobody ever notices the guy at the piano. Especially a guy like me.” “You should know your audience better than that. Not everybody who sees your show is interested in watching Miss Ennis.” “She’s kind of hard to look around, though.” He shrugged. “But that’s okay. I’m used to it. And honestly, most of the time, that’s the way I like it.” “Why?” He didn’t want to lie. He had a feeling Vince could see through those like looking through a window. But there was no way he could describe the fear that had bound him for so much of his life, the certainty that someone, someday, was going to notice he wasn’t the good Irish Catholic boy he’d been raised to be. That he was some kind of freak because he had never wanted to get married, or been interested in girls, or got a hard-on over the thought of kissing one. “Getting that kind of attention has its own problems,” he said instead. “I like my privacy.” That part was true. Hopefully, it would be enough to satisfy Vince. “You remind me of some guys that I know. They come to 24

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Vegas and they get all dazzled by the bright lights. They want to gamble, and bet on the races. They want to drink the best booze and fuck the prettiest girls. But then they find out there’s a price for all that. They want to keep the party going without paying. You want to be successful but you don’t want to pay the price for success.” Vince’s sure tone sent a flash of anger coursing through David’s veins. “Who said I want to be that successful? All I want to do is play. If that means playing dives and dealing with drunks who wouldn’t know their Dvorak from their dick, then so be it.” “That’s not what you want. If it was, you wouldn’t mind going back to Chicago to play the same dives you were playing before the boss fell for your cousin.” “The reason I don’t want to go back to Chicago has got nothing to do with where I want to play. If Kate moves on and doesn’t need me anymore, and things don’t work out here, then I’ll find someplace else to go. But I’m not going back to Chicago, because my parents won’t care why I might do it. All they’ll see is me with my tail tucked between my legs, and then I won’t have a shot in hell convincing them the life they want for me is not one that’s going to make me happy.” Vince took a swallow from his glass of water, watching David over the rim with inscrutable eyes. “You’re talking yourself into circles. You want to take care of your parents. You want to prove that you’re a man now. You want to play professionally. You can’t do all that if you just hide behind your cousin.” “Sometimes, it feels like my whole life is one big circle.” He sighed. His stomach rumbled. He probably shouldn’t have drunk so much of the champagne before eating something. His head was starting to feel more than a little wobbly, and he really didn’t want 25

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to continue this conversation, even if it was with a guy like Vince. He was never going to get Vince to understand, because there was no way he could tell him everything that would clear it up. That if he went back, he’d have to eventually get married and spend the rest of his life living a lie. A guy like Vince wouldn’t understand. Hell, David didn’t understand half the time. “Where’s the waiter? Or did Jimmy already order for us?” “He made all the arrangements this afternoon. He’s got his favorites. You want something? I could go talk to the kitchen.” “No, no, if food’s coming, that’s all that matters. I just haven’t had anything today except this champagne and an apple around two. I’m hungry, that’s all.” “It’ll be out soon. You know, I didn’t mean to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong. I just like the way you sound.” He’d been scanning the room for where all the waiters were, but as soon as Vince uttered the last statement, David sat back in his seat to meet his solemn gaze. He smiled and shoved aside his earlier irritation. It wasn’t Vince’s fault. It was his. He was the queer, after all. “Thanks. I appreciate that.” “I mean it. I can help you out, if you ever want me to.” That made him pause. “What do you mean, help me out?” “Get you bookings. Talk to some agents around town and in Hollywood. I know lots of people.” David blinked. Then blinked again. “Why would you do that? You only just met me.” “I told you. I like the way you sound and I know plenty of people. I could do you a favor or two.” Phrased like that, David relaxed. Vince lived in a world built on favors. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. David had no clue what he could do for Vince that the man couldn’t get done 26

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otherwise, but now the offer made more sense. “Well, if Kate leaves me high and dry, maybe I’ll take you up on it.” He lifted his glass for a toast. “But here’s to more nights like tonight. May the audience never get tired of us.” Vince dutifully lifted his glass and touched the rim to David’s. “Hear, hear.”

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CHAPTER 3 The paper in his pocket felt like rocks. Not for the first time in the past week, David wished he could get rip-roaring drunk before heading down to play. The only thing that stopped him was knowing Kate’s suspicions would escalate from just wondering what was going on with him to being absolutely certain. He didn’t want her worried about him. Even if he was worried himself. In all the years he’d performed in Chicago, he’d never once received a black hand. Now he had two, burning a hole in his pocket. He’d never been important enough to extort money from, but apparently, his lifestyle had changed enough in the past two weeks to put him in a different league now. The first had come after his fourth show. He, Jimmy, and Vince had been waiting for Kate to freshen up. Jimmy had insisted on 28

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taking them out every night, “showing them the sights,” he’d claimed, though David knew it was to spend time with Kate. David had been standing off to the side, trying to watch some of the gambling instead of drooling over how good Vince looked in his suit—did the man own anything that didn’t make him look like sex on a stick?—when a bellboy had appeared out of nowhere with a letter for him. “From a fan,” the pimply-faced kid had said. Kate chose that moment to swoop back in, and David had had to stuff it into his pocket to read for later. “Later” had turned out to be nearly five in the morning, when Jimmy and Vince dropped them back off at their suites. He’d opened the letter, saw the black hand printed on the page with the simple demand, “$1000 or we shoot you,” and promptly threw up all of the red wine and steak Jimmy had bought for dinner. As far as he could tell, Kate hadn’t received anything, but then again, it was probably really obvious she was under Jimmy’s direct protection. Anyone with half a brain should have realized David was related to her, but guys who used the black hand tended to work on their own back in Chicago. It was considered too crude for the Outfit, too easy for the police to catch. Only the truly desperate or really dumb used it, and generally speaking, David tried to avoid both types in his life. No more. He’d considered showing it to Jimmy, but Jimmy was always so wrapped up in Kate, it was hard to say anything that wouldn’t alert Kate something was wrong. The last thing he wanted was for her to catch wind of it. She’d worry, and the next time she called home, she’d say something, and then David would have hell to pay from his parents. 29

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That left Vince, but David dismissed that idea almost immediately. He didn’t want Vince thinking he was some kind of greenhorn, unable to take care of himself. After all the fuss he’d made about being on his own, about not running back to Chicago with his tail tucked between his legs, David was going to deal with this like a man. Then, that afternoon, the second black hand showed up. This one just said, “Tonight.” Black hands weren’t idle threats. Nobody would take the time to send him two letters if they didn’t intend to follow through. As he stared at the single word scrawled across the top of the paper, he understood why the grift was so effective. If he had a thousand dollars to spare, he would hand it over. Along with his pride. The important thing was, he would live to play another day. But he didn’t have a thousand dollars. He didn’t even have half that. He was surrounded by money, by wealth he couldn’t even imagine, and his life was at risk over such a piddling amount. Their first show started at eight. David liked to be in his dressing room by no later than a quarter after seven. It gave him a chance to change and work through any bout of nerves he might have. A part of him was never quite comfortable with performing on stage, and that part needed to be quieted before the lights went down and the curtains went up. But a quarter after seven came and went, and David still lingered in his room, behind his locked door, trying to figure out just what the fuck he was going to do. A sharp knock on the door pulled his attention away from the wrinkled paper in his hand. “David?” Only because it was Vince’s voice did David manage to rise to his feet. His knees wobbled, and his hand shook as he shoved the letter back into his pocket. Taking a deep breath didn’t do much 30

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but make his stomach roil, but he crossed the room and turned the deadbolt without getting sick again. Somehow, he managed to smile when he greeted Vince. “I know, I know, I’m running late. I’ll be right there.” “What’s going on? You sick?” He latched onto the excuse with the fervor of a drowning man. “Yeah, actually.” He rubbed his stomach to emphasize his not quite real malady. “Must’ve been lunch.” “I could probably turn up another piano player if you need the night off.” Not going downstairs at all would certainly help. It would give him another twenty-four hours to figure out what to do. Except he’d never missed a show in his life. He’d once played with a fever of a hundred and two, getting up to be sick offstage every couple of songs. Kate would know something was up as soon as somebody else slid onto his piano bench. “No, no, I can do it.” He stepped back to give Vince room to enter. “Come on in. I’ll just wash up really quick. Won’t be a tick.” Vince came in, but just far enough to lean against the wall near the door. “You sure it was lunch? You’ve been looking a little green for the past week.” The observation startled him to a halt. He’d thought he’d been hiding it pretty well, considering the fact he’d never been threatened like this before. Kate hadn’t noticed a thing, not during their rehearsals, not during the shows. As he swung his gaze back to meet Vince’s, though, it dawned on him he’d actually been spending more time with Vince than anyone else. When Jimmy took them out after the show, he and Kate had eyes only for each other, leaving Vince and David to share each other’s company. And Vince had long practice looking out for Jimmy. It made sense 31

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he’d picked up on David’s upset. Part of him still didn’t want to show Vince, but that part was shrinking with each passing moment. Vince might think less of him for not being able to deal with this himself, but at least David would be alive for that to happen. Wordlessly, he reached into his pocket and held the crumpled letter out to him. Vince plucked it from his fingers, glanced at it, and his dark eyes turned thunderous. He didn’t need an explanation, though David was still in possession of the first letter. Obvious anger pulled at his mouth and one large hand closed into a fist. David knew he wasn’t in any danger, but even so, his heart fluttered against his ribs. Gripping the page in one hand, Vince yanked the door open with the other. “Come on.” He didn’t even consider refusing. He darted forward to the hallway, pausing only long enough for Vince to shut the door behind them. “Are you going to tell Jimmy?” “No. I take care of this sort of business.” Vince’s long steps forced David to quicken his. “But I don’t know who they are.” “Doesn’t matter. They’re probably waiting backstage right now, and I know every single person who belongs here. I wouldn’t even be surprised if it’s the same pair of jokers I ran out of here before.” Alarm shot through him. “Don’t tell me they sent one to Kate, too.” “No. They were trying to get money out of our last headliners. I knew I had been too easy on them.” The elevator chimed seconds after Vince stabbed the call button and a chill raced down David’s 32

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spine as he stepped into the small space with the much larger man. He was practically vibrating with energy. David could sense his tension, even though his face had smoothed over and he looked as calm as he always did. Though it was a relief to know Vince was going to take care of it, David hated that he was the cause of so many problems, even if he hadn’t been the first. “I’m sorry. If I’d had the money, I would’ve just paid it to make them go away.” “Don’t pay scum like that. It just encourages them to come back for more. And don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.” “It’s just…I’ve never had this happen to me before. Not even in Chicago.” He tried to smile. He wondered if it looked as pathetic as it felt. “I’m nobody.” “This isn’t going to happen to you again. I guarantee that.” The elevator opened and Vince took a step forward, then paused and turned back to David. “You don’t have to watch this, if you don’t want. You can wait in the lounge.” David shook his head, unable to speak. If he didn’t watch, he’d never be able to resolve the nightmares that had plagued him all week. Being a witness would mean he’d know for sure they were gone. It wasn’t until he’d fallen back into step beside Vince, weaving through the gambling tables for the backstage area, that he realized being a witness also meant complicity. Nobody looked in their direction, even after they’d pushed their way through the swinging doors and away from the throngs. More people rushed around here, getting ready for the upcoming show, but Vince didn’t give any of them a second look. He led David away from the techs and toward his dressing room, like he could sniff out the extortionists as if he were a bloodhound. 33

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David drew up short when he saw the two men lounging outside his closed door. “What the fuck did I say to you boys?” Both men looked up at Vincent’s booming question, their eyes widening. “Shorty…” “I know you’re a couple of stupid fucks, but I thought you understood simple English.” The taller of the two held up his hands and offered what must have been his version of a charming smile. Their clothes were ratty, and both of them had gaunt faces and greasy hair. He wouldn’t be surprised if they both had tracks on their arms. They clearly recognized Vince, clearly knew they’d have to deal with him if they came back. As far as David knew, the only thing that could push a person to such stupidity was drugs. “Shorty, look, this has all been a big misunderstanding.” “Has it?” Vince pulled the paper from his jacket pocket and shoved it under the speaker’s nose. “This doesn’t look like a misunderstanding to me, you little bastard.” “Look, we didn’t mean…” Vince cut off the words by shoving the wadded up paper into the man’s mouth, pushing it back to his throat with one hand while holding him against the wall with the other. “What was that?” His partner danced away, leaving Vince to drive his fist into the tall man’s gut. David winced from the blow, especially when the man seemed to choke on the letter now lodged in his throat. He expected the other one to make a run for it. That would be the smart thing to do. That was certainly what David would do, if he was faced with the wrong side of Vince’s temper. But the other man wasn’t going anywhere. As Vince threw another punch, a flash of something metallic caught what little 34

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light was in the corridor and threw glints onto the walls. David’s eyes widened at the sight of the switchblade in the shorter man’s grip. “Vince!” Vince gripped the man by the jacket and spun around to throw him at his armed partner. They hit the ground with matching moans of pain—except the taller man’s was muffled by the paper still stuck in his throat. They both scrambled to stand up, but before either could find their feet, Vince had them each by the throat. Muscles bulged against his jacket as he lifted them both up, high above the ground. David could only stare, open-mouthed, as Vince literally threw them toward the door that opened to the alley. The two men struggled to get up, tripping over each other in their haste to leave. Vince marched forward like he had all the time in the world and kicked the nearest one. The squeal of pain that came with it had to mean he’d connected with the smaller man, but it didn’t do much to get them moving faster. David had no idea who opened the door, but it butted against the wall, the alley yawning wide and dark beyond it. His extortionists disappeared, followed by Vince. Before the door slammed shut again, David finally unfroze, darting forward to catch it and go outside. The two men were nothing more than shapeless shadows, hunched over on the ground to protect their most vulnerable areas. Their moans were broken by occasional words, pleas for Vince to stop. They fell on deaf ears. Vince never stopped moving, using his fists and his feet in a very methodical, pointed way. Aiming for any soft spot he could reach. Shutting down any thought of mercy. A hard slam of knuckles against lips finally stopped the taller man from speaking, and his body went limp against the hard ground, blood flowing freely down his face to pool on the cracked cement. 35

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Vince turned to the other man, his fist caked in blood. The extortionist instantly put his hands up to protect his face, simultaneously bending around himself to create less of a target. “Please don’t. Please don’t, Shorty, I’m sorry. Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” Vince responded with a size twelve boot in the man’s abdomen. “Am I ever going to see you around here again?” “No.” “You sure?” “I’m sure.” He gasped and started to cough. “I’m sure.” David watched Vince straighten and square his shoulders, unmoving as the pair tried to slink away. He knew he was supposed to feel bad. Vince could have killed either or the both of them. But he just couldn’t summon the guilt. They’d threatened him first. They’d even had a warning from Vince not to try the Thunderbird headliners again. They got exactly what they deserved. When they had finally stumbled into the darkness, David stepped forward. “I don’t even know how to start thanking you. I’d probably be dead right now if you hadn’t done something.” “You ever get another letter like that again, you bring it right to me. That’s how you can thank me.” “Yeah, sure, you’re the first person I tell if it ever happens again.” As Vince turned around to head back inside, the single light in the alley caught the full extent of the damage done to his hand, blood dripping from the torn knuckles to land silently on the ground. His sleeve was sliced, too, a clean cut that went all the way to the skin. The switchblade must have made contact after all. “Jesus,” David said under his breath. He caught Vince’s elbow 36

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to keep him from turning away completely, and gently pulled the fabric aside to reveal the bloody gash along the forearm. “You need to see a doctor.” “I’m fine. It’s a scratch. It won’t kill me.” “You’re bleeding.” He looked up, but the darkness kept Vince’s features hidden. “At least let me clean it up for you.” Vince nodded, allowing David to lead him back into the casino. Various members of the crew, and a few cocktail waitresses, were already gathering in the narrow corridor to see what the fuss was about, but none of them had the nerve to actually stop Vince and question him. David smiled at a few of them, but didn’t break his stride as he made his way to his dressing room. “You okay?” Vince asked once the door was closed behind them. The question surprised him. “Me? I’m fine. I’m not the one who got himself sliced up out there.” “Yeah, but you said yourself, you’ve never been caught up in this sort of thing.” His dressing room was tiny, barely enough space to navigate around Vince without bumping into him, but David did what he could, grabbing a cup to take into the bathroom and fill with water. When he emerged, Vince had taken off his jacket and hung it on the back of the lone chair. Without it, he suddenly seemed even bigger. “Sit down.” He was glad when Vince complied without arguing. Scooping up a hand towel from the dressing table, he knelt on the floor in front of him, grasping one strong wrist to turn the injury upward. “It all happened so fast,” he said, dipping the towel into the water. “Maybe it just hasn’t sunk in yet.” “I’m surprised you never ran into anything like this in Chicago. 37

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Course, there aren’t really any unprotected clubs left for the freelancers to hit.” Vince sucked his breath in sharply as David brushed the edge of the wound with the damp towel. “Should have figured he’d have a knife.” The blade had sliced through the dark hair curling along the strong muscle, but the more blood David washed away, the more he saw that it wasn’t that deep. “I don’t think you’re going to need any stitches, but you probably know more about these things than I do.” He paused, glancing up to search Vince’s face for signs that it hurt worse than it looked. “I’d offer you a drink to help you forget about it, but you’d just turn me down anyway.” “I would, but I appreciate the offer. Maybe later tonight, if it still stings, I’ll make an exception.” His heart skipped a beat. He’d never once seen Vince bend his personal credo regarding alcohol, but it wasn’t the hint that he might. It was the invitation to offer again after the show, later, when the two of them would invariably be abandoned by Jimmy and Kate. He knew it was foolish to put so much stock in the time they spent together, but the more they did, the richer David’s fantasies about the man became. And the more Vince proved to be a fascinating companion. His tongue ran over his suddenly dry lips. “Do you know if Jimmy’s got plans for us tonight?” “When he sees I’m injured, he’ll probably insist on a quiet night in with Miss Ennis.” “Oh.” It was wrong to be disappointed, especially since Vince had already done so much for him. “You’ll probably want a quiet night, too, then.” “I could use one. What about you? You haven’t had a night to yourself since you got here.” 38

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“No, but getting to go out with you after the show has been the best part of moving to Vegas so far.” He realized too late what he’d blurted and immediately dropped his gaze, ignoring the rush of heat to his face as he cleaned away more of the blood. Fix it! he scolded himself, but the best he could manage was the feeble joke, “Well, except for having a piano in my suite, of course.” “Nobody said my quiet night had to be spent alone.” His knee jerked, knocking over the water. The earlier invitation hadn’t been a mistake. Forgetting the embarrassment of just a moment before, he sat up straighter, intent on Vince again, on the half smile that softened his normally stern mouth. “You’d want me around? Even after you got hurt because of me?” “I didn’t get hurt because of you.” Vince grabbed David’s hand, his strong fingers holding David in place. “You were a target here, not the guy who pulled the knife.” The heat scalded. Not the rush of his embarrassment, not the blood still staining Vince’s skin. Vince, himself. The callused scrape of his fingertips against David’s. The power contained in the tight muscles, immutable but hardly threatening. The quiet intensity of his voice as he reiterated David’s innocence. David couldn’t breathe past the constriction of his chest. He couldn’t hear anything but the pounding of his pulse. He tried to swallow down the lump in his throat, but even that failed miserably. His gaze dropped from Vince’s hypnotic eyes to the full swell of his mouth. The overwhelming desire to stretch and taste it had him rising onto his knees, closing the distance until his brain took over and shouted at him to stop. Even then, all he could do was freeze in that awkward position, kneeling between Vince’s legs, their hands joined. Vince pulled him closer, forcing David to close more of the 39

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distance. He realized in a distant, frightened way that now he really was close enough to kiss Vince. To feel his lips. He was definitely close enough to feel the warmth of Vincent’s breath. “Will you come up to my suite after the show?” “Your…” He couldn’t form the word. His head was swimming, and if he didn’t have Vince’s strength holding him up, he would topple to the side. As it was, he needed to shift, his weight distributed too awkwardly on his knees, but that only served to brush his painful erection against Vince’s leg. The slight touch electrified him more than Vince’s grip. It shocked him backward, onto his ass, tearing his hand away as he scuttled away from the chair. What the hell was he doing? Rubbing off on the guy he was attracted to? It didn’t matter if it was accidental or not. Someone like Vince didn’t want that, no matter what kind of invitation he issued. “I gotta get ready for the show,” he blurted. “Kate’ll kill me if I’m late.” Vincent slowly pushed himself to his feet. “Yeah, I guess she will. I’m going to be around, keeping an eye out in case we get any more uninvited visitors.” David could only nod. He kept his back pressed to the wall as Vince slowly left the room, not exhaling for long seconds even when he was alone.

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CHAPTER 4 Vincent had a lot of practice with forced patience, and he drew on those experiences as he followed the boss up from the casino to the third floor. The notes from David’s piano still echoed in his ears as the elevator doors shut. He couldn’t say for sure, but the music didn’t sound the same that night. David was probably rattled from the threat and from his invitation. No, there was no probably about it. The last time he had seen another man look at him with such abject fear, he had been about to shoot that man in the brain. He had no intention of ever hurting David, but for a brief moment, it felt like he already had. As soon as they were locked away in Jimmy’s suite, the purpose of the impromptu meeting became clear. Not that Vincent had ever been confused on that point. 41

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“I don’t like it. I don’t think they were working alone.” “They pulled this sort of shit before.” “Exactly. Nobody who gets a dose of your fists comes back for a second helping.” “You think somebody sent them?” “Yeah. Paul Rossellini.” Vincent frowned. “Why would he do that? He certainly doesn’t need a thousand dollars from a headliner. He’s got a hell of a racket going at the track and I know he’s on the skim at the Sands.” “He wants his own casino.” “A black hand to the piano player ain’t gonna give him the Thunderbird.” Jimmy waved his hand dismissively. “David was just a stepping stone since he’s closer to Kate than anybody. It was a warning.” Vincent couldn’t deny that Paul Rossellini wanted the Thunderbird. He couldn’t even deny that he was the sort of man who would begin with a warning shot before escalating matters. If Rossellini wanted to get Jimmy while he was distracted—and get him right where he was weakest—focusing on the casino’s newest headliners wouldn’t be a bad gambit. Vincent would probably do the same in Rossellini’s shoes. “He’s not going to try to exhort money from Kate.” “No, but he’ll try to use Kate to get to me. Tell me you think he wouldn’t.” “What do you want to do about it?” “Find out if he’s been making noise anywhere. Find out if there’s any proof that those two goons were on his payroll. If they were, I want him gone. Rub him out. I also want more security 42

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around Kate. Get a few of your boys shadowing her, twenty-four hours a day.” “What about David?” Jimmy looked at his right-hand man blankly. “What about him?” “He’s the one who got the threat. He’s the one those bastards would have pounded tonight.” “They’re not going to bother him again. Paul doesn’t have time for that shit.” “He’s never been threatened like this before. Never been a headliner before.” Jimmy blinked at him slowly, like he couldn’t believe Vincent was even talking still. “Make sure he gets a raise this week on his wages for his trouble then.” “Yes, sir.” “And make this your priority.” Vincent nodded, showing no signs of his annoyance at the direct command. He wouldn’t be returning to the lounge that night to hear the rest of David’s show. And given David’s earlier reaction, Vincent doubted he would be seeing the other man after the show, either. Though he could certainly check on him once he retired to his room. Vincent didn’t really know where that impulse came from, and it wasn’t something he wanted to think about too deeply. All he knew was that when he wasn’t spending time with David, he was thinking about when he would see David again. Vincent let himself out of the suite and immediately began working on the list of tasks Jimmy gave him. He didn’t know if he agreed about Rossellini’s involvement, but he also knew he wasn’t the best judge in this situation. His only real concern was for David’s safety. He wished he had killed the bastards when he had 43

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the chance, but the part of him that was always aware of David stopped him from delivering the killing blows. He didn’t want the other man to see him like that. He didn’t understand that, either. Since the first night they met, Vincent had found David interesting. There was an amazing innocence about him that fascinated Vincent. It was clear that David wasn’t completely naïve. Anybody who was born and raised in Chicago knew the score. But he was surprisingly untouched. David didn’t even realize the lucrative position he was in. Anybody else would take advantage of the situation, but David didn’t even seem to understand he had anything to gain. Because he really was just interested in his music. Vincent couldn’t begin to grasp that mindset, but that didn’t mean he didn’t respect it. Vincent, on the other hand, never stopped thinking about what he stood to gain in any situation. Never stopped thinking about what he wanted and what he could get and how he could get it. He had been more than ready to take exactly what he wanted from David in the other man’s dressing room. As always, the steps he would have to take were methodically laid out in his mind. First, he would lock the dressing room door. Then he would have trapped David against the counter, facing the brightly lit mirror, so he could see David’s wide blue eyes. He’d yank David’s pants down and unzip his own, and then there would be nothing between his hard dick and the heat he craved. He could have done it. It wouldn’t have been the first time he used the nearest convenient person to blow off some steam after a fight. Adrenaline had been running hot in his veins, his blood throbbing in his ears, and David had been right there. On his knees. Practically begging Vincent to take what he needed. Feeling David’s dick against his leg had only heightened his own lust, and 44

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the image in his mind changed. To both of them on the floor, Vincent pinning David down as he drove into his willing body. He had been close to doing just that, and then David jolted away from him as if he had been stung. As if he could sense the violence still simmering beneath Vincent’s skin. The look on David’s face had made Vincent forget about all the ways he could bend David to his will. The fever in his blood had cooled. Unfortunately, the images hadn’t faded. They stayed right at the front of his mind as he worked, lingering there, driving him to distraction. He needed to get David up to his room. Needed to lock him away where nobody could hurt him, and nobody could see the two of them, and finish what they started. That thought, more than Jimmy’s orders, drove him to finish his tasks. Putting a new security detail on Kate wasn’t a problem. There were two men he trusted with his own life, and he knew they could handle being discreet. Kate wouldn’t even know she was being shadowed. He hit a snag when he started to look for information on Johnny the Greek and his brother, Sal. He didn’t want to start calling in favors for the information, and nobody was talking. Not for free. Vincent thought that told him what he needed to know, but it wasn’t evidence. Not the kind the boss would need. The night was young. He could have gone out and bought the information he needed—and finished the job with Johnny and Sal if he really wanted to. But he couldn’t stop thinking about David. The show always ended at one. By ten after, Vincent couldn’t even pretend to care about finding out who might be paying the thugs. He just wanted to find David. Nobody bothered Vincent as he made his way back to the third floor. The boss had other plans for Kate, and Vincent didn’t think David would hang around the stage any longer than he had to. 45

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He’d go straight up to his suite, even if he didn’t necessarily want to turn in for the night. More than once, Vincent had heard him playing after they’d dropped him off. He hadn’t been joking— much—when he’d claimed the best part of coming to Vegas was his own personal piano. But when Vincent knocked, David didn’t answer. He waited, then knocked again, harder this time in case the man was in the shower. When that, too, was ignored, he pressed his ear to the door and strained to hear whatever life might be stirring on the other side. Nothing came. Standing back, Vincent frowned as he debated his options. He’d extended an invitation to David to join him in his suite after the show, but the hallway was empty. If David had intended to accept, he would have been waiting outside Vincent’s door. The elevator dinged from the end of the corridor. Vincent turned his head automatically to watch the people get off. David wasn’t among them. Jimmy and Kate were. Kate smiled at him as they neared. “You looking for David?” He caught Jimmy’s eye and nodded slightly. Everything’s taken care of. A small, silent lie, but one that the boss would never be wise to. “Yeah, I wanted to talk to him about what happened tonight. He still in the lounge?” “Oh, no. He was really jazzed from the show. He had Jules scare him up a car so he could go out.” Vincent almost demanded to know why they let David leave, but bit back the question. “Do you know where he planned to go?” She shrugged. “Out. Someplace hopping, he said. But Jules 46

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would probably know.” She snapped her fingers as if she’d just remembered something. “He was talking about the Moulin Rouge again tonight during the break. He’s been wanting to get out there ever since he heard how the acts go all night.” “Since David’s out, you can call it a night,” Jimmy said. Vincent nodded his understanding. “You two have a good night.” There was no reason why he shouldn’t just do exactly that. But as soon as the boss and Kate disappeared into his suite, Vincent went directly to the elevator. It’d be easy enough to find David. Vincent would be able to pick him out of a crowd. The bigger concern was whether or not David wanted Vincent to find him. He wasn’t going to the Moulin Rouge because the Irish piano player had worked his way completely under Vincent’s skin. He was going because Johnny or Sal could have friends who were willing to finish what the other two men couldn’t. That’s what he told himself, and what he would tell anybody who asked. But the reason itself didn’t really matter. Either way, he was in his car less than five minutes later, making a beeline for the notorious club. The Moulin Rouge was the newest sensation in the city, only just opened. As the first desegregated casino, it was already drawing national attention, boasting parties that lasted until dawn. Everybody wanted to go there, from stars to gamblers, and the talent it got to perform put most of the rest of the Strip to shame. Vincent had been curious more than once to check it out, based purely on that, but Kate and David’s arrival had kept him busy, and the little free time he’d had to himself had been spent making sure they were comfortable. David, especially. He barely noticed the details as he pulled up in front, passing his keys over to the valet without breaking stride. The energy here 47

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was far more frenetic than the Thunderbird or the Flamingo. Everyone was out for a good time, and they wanted to share it with the world. Vincent bypassed the gambling tables to scan the periphery of the room, trying to decide which entertainment milieu would capture David’s fancy. Not the main floor. Too impersonal. Not the lounge. Laughter drifting from there said it was a comedian onstage, not a band. A dim bar had people crammed into its small entrance. Standing room only, which meant the heat would be ratcheted inside and the sound intense. When Vincent moved closer, the distinct strains of a piano cut through the other noise. He’d heard David often enough now to recognize the man’s style. How he had managed to finagle a pass to play, though, Vincent had no idea. The crowd parted only enough to let him slide into the rear of the room. He found a spot along the back wall and kept his eyes fixed on the narrow stage at the opposite end of the room. David wasn’t the only one performing, but he was the only one Vincent saw. The lights brightened his red hair, catching blond glints that Vincent had never noticed before. His long, slim hands flew over the keyboard, stretching octaves effortlessly, and he smiled and bobbed his head in time with the music, laughing along with the other band members whenever they would play up for the crowd. His pale complexion was slightly flushed, whether from the heat of the room or the rush of playing, and his blue eyes sparkled, even from that distance. Vincent’s cock stirred at the sight of the other man—a not uncommon reaction to David’s presence. The Irish look had never been particularly attractive to him. As near as he could tell, it had 48

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never done it for Jimmy, either. Now they were both being driven to distraction by redheads with blue eyes and creamy skin. He had never fucked a redhead before, and he wondered if this particular redhead had ever let anybody fuck him. Vincent scanned the crowd, doing his best to pick out the faces in the dim light. He didn’t expect to see anybody dangerous, but it was his job to know who was in the room at all times. Everybody who wasn’t drowning in their booze was completely enraptured by the musicians. Some people were trying to dance, but they weren’t getting far. There just wasn’t enough room to move the way the music demanded. Vincent was happy for the crowd, though. He didn’t want David to notice him and have time to plot another escape. The song ended, and the audience burst into raucous applause. Though David looked out over the crowd, he didn’t rise from his bench, only looking back to the stage when the singer claimed the need for a five-minute break. David dropped his fingers over the keys and tapped out a quick run, then waved to everyone as he stood and followed the others through a narrow door half-hidden by a curtain. There weren’t too many places in Vegas that were off-limits to Vincent. His own reputation opened many doors, and his family ties took care of the rest. He used his bulk to push through the dense crowd, working his way to the side of the stage. As soon as he slipped through the door, the smell of cigarette smoke and booze faded slightly. The hallway was dark after the glare of the stage lights, and Vincent had to pause to give his eyes a chance to adjust. He strained his ears, trying to listen for the sound of David’s voice over the shouts of the rowdy crowd. It wasn’t his voice that caught Vincent’s attention, though. It was the sound of 49

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his laughter. It came from a door halfway down, slightly ajar to let light and noise escape. As Vincent approached, a new smell joined the others, the distinct earthiness of reefer, but any question he might have had on whether or not David was smoking disappeared when he spotted him through the opening. A cigarette dangled from his fingers, the smoke curling upward. He’d shucked his jacket, and his sleeves were rolled up. Vincent stared for a minute at the angles of the man’s hands. He straightened when a short, slim black man pulled the door open the rest of the way. “Looking for someone?” Vincent nodded toward David. “Yeah, and I found him.” “Hey, Irish.” He stepped out of the way, jerking his head toward Vincent when David glanced up. “You got company.” When David’s eyes widened, Vincent almost expected him to make a run for it, especially when he rose to his feet. He moved to block more of the doorway, but then David smiled and swept his arm toward the other men. “Join the party! Guys, this is Shorty. Which is funny, because he’s not, you know, short in any way.” His gaze snapped back to Vincent. “I’d ask how you’d found me, but that would be a really dumb question, wouldn’t it?” “Your cousin told me.” The last thing Vincent wanted to do was join the party. Especially since he didn’t find it particularly entertaining to watch people dope themselves up. “Can we talk? Privately.” The smile faded, though only marginally. “Is Kate okay?” “Kate’s fine. She’s probably enjoying her supper right now. I just want to talk to you.” 50

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“You sure? I’m a lot better with my hands. Talking always gets me in trouble. But, hey, if that’s what you want, that’s what you get.” He took another deep drag on the cigarette, then passed it to the singer leaning against the wall next to him. “I’ll be back in a second, guys.” It was all Vincent could do to stop himself from grabbing David’s arm. He jerked his head toward the door at the end of the corridor—the one that must have led to the alley—and sighed with relief as David followed him into the shadows. He could smell the familiar aftershave, though now it was buried by the bitter scent of marijuana and beer. “I thought you were going to meet me after the show.” David’s fine brows scrunched together as he peered up at Vincent. “Did I say yes to that? I don’t remember saying yes. I remember lots of other stuff, but not that.” Vincent stepped toward him, crowding him against the wall. “You didn’t say no, either.” David lifted his chin, boldly, defiantly. Far more determinedly than he’d ever displayed in front of Vincent before. “I didn’t have time to.” Vincent gripped David’s chin, holding him in place as he lowered his head. Vincent didn’t quite touch the other man with his mouth, but he could tell from the tension in David’s body that he fully expected him to. “Say it now then.” “Little late for that, isn’t it?” The tip of his tongue appeared, sweeping over his bottom lip. “You met me.” “You know your way back to the Thunderbird. I could leave you here if you want.” “What about what you want?” “I think it’s pretty clear what I want,” Vincent murmured, 51

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stepping closer so his erection pressed against David’s hip. David whimpered. That was the only word for it. One of his hands fluttered at Vincent’s waist before finally settling along the hip. The touch was fragile, like David wasn’t sure he wouldn’t get his wrist snapped for trying, and Vincent pushed harder, erasing once and for all any doubts David might have had about his interest. “It’s kind of funny, actually.” David flexed the hand on Vincent’s hip until his thumb ran along the side of Vincent’s cock. “That’s what I want, too.” There were more reasons to walk away from David than there were to take advantage of the situation. But the time to remember those reasons had long since passed. He felt like he was drugged. Like something heavy and strong was swimming through his veins. “Not here. I can get a room upstairs.” “You don’t want to take it back to my suite?” Those strokes continued, faint but long and even, stopping beneath the head and traveling nearly all the way to his balls. “I’ll play for you. And then we don’t have to worry about stopping to go home.” He craned closer, his mouth only a breath away. “I don’t want to have to stop, Vince.” Vincent didn’t want to stop, either. He also didn’t want to risk plowing into another car because his mind was on David instead of on driving. Everything inside of him strained for contact, shouting at him to finally claim David’s mouth and taste all the booze and the sweat and the smoke. But if he could get David somewhere private, he could do a hell of a lot more than just taste the other man. “Come on. We better get moving or I’ll fuck you right here.” David sucked in a sharp breath. “You mean…?” He swallowed. 52

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Hard. “I’ve never…but okay. Okay.” Vincent wasn’t surprised that David had never been fucked. He was sure that the musician had never resorted to tricking himself out to earn a meal or two, and it was too dangerous to be a known sissy. Especially in the Chicago clubs where David had cut his teeth. Vincent couldn’t deny that he wanted to be the one to pop David’s cherry. He reached around to the door and pushed it open. His car would be on the other side of the building, but there was no way he was going to walk through the casino floor with his boner. David shivered when they stepped into the evening air, but he kept close to Vincent’s side. Their bodies kept touching, fleeting glances that would have been casual any other time but now, only tortured Vincent with what was to come. David didn’t argue when Vince went to the valet for his key, then led the way straight to his car, remaining silent until they were both in the front seat. “If you want, I could get you off now.” David rested a hand on Vincent’s thigh, leaning closer. “It might make it easier to drive.” Vincent looked around the parking lot. It was full of cars but mostly empty of people. And he was right at the edge. Too close to the edge to remember to be careful. He cupped the back of David’s head with one hand and unzipped his pants with the other. He guided David’s head forward, his entire body clenching with anticipation. “Just stay low.” David helped get his pants out of the way, fingertips hot and light where they pushed the fabric down and out of his way. The side of his palm glanced along the shaft, but a moment later, he grasped Vincent at the base and tilted his cock away from his body. “Now, this…” His warm breath fanned across Vincent’s tight 53

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skin. “This I know how to do.” He dragged the flat of his tongue across the broad tip, catching the pre-come and moaning in the back of his throat. He didn’t linger, though. After one more swipe over the slit, David parted his lips and sank down, sucking hard as he took in nearly all of Vincent’s length on the first stroke. Vincent moaned softly as his fingers curled in David’s hair. It felt like an eternity since the last time anybody had sucked him off. It had certainly been longer than that since he felt anything as good as David’s tight mouth. The tip of his cock brushed against the back of David’s throat, and his hand automatically flexed, but he stopped himself from forcing David farther down his shaft. Not that he needed to take control. David hadn’t been lying—clearly this was something he knew how to do quite well. David’s glide back up came with swirls of his tongue and hot breath. It was languorously slow, like David didn’t want to let go of a single inch, and it came with the pull of David’s hand, creeping from its hold at the root to fist the newly exposed shaft. Both mouth and grip stopped just beneath the ridged head, then twisted in opposite directions. Fire shot through his groin, down the back of his thighs, all the way to his toes. His thrust deeper into David’s mouth was pure instinct. As much as he wanted to close his eyes and lose himself to the pleasure, he knew he needed to remain alert. People walked by the car more than once, but they didn’t glance into the windows. Even if they did, Vincent didn’t know what he would do about it. He was certainly not going to stop David. Not while his tongue dragged over Vincent’s hot skin and his moans echoed from the roof of his mouth directly to Vincent’s balls. He jerked his hips harder, desperate for more heat, more suction. David responded 54

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instantly, adjusting himself to swallow more of Vincent’s length, moving his mouth just a little bit faster. The seat squeaked beneath him as they quickened, him meeting David, David sucking him down. When the tip of his cock nudged at David’s throat, the muscle there flexed, swallowing the rest of the way until David’s nose was mashed against Vincent’s skin. He’d had to move his hand out of the way to take it all in, and now, hot fingertips skated over Vincent’s sac, slipping deeper, lower, farther to cup and squeeze them at the same tempo his throat constricted around the head. As David swallowed around him, massaging his sensitive crown with tight muscles, Vincent’s eyes rolled back. For a moment, he forgot about the world outside the car. He forgot he needed to pay attention. His stomach clenched and his balls pulled tight and his fingers were heavy against the back of David’s head. A series of images flashed through his mind—some of them were memories, some were just fantasies. His fist slamming into Johnny’s mouth, David kneeling at his feet, a foot connecting with ribs, David bent over the counter. David hard for him, too. He groaned as his cock jerked, come exploding from him and hitting the back of David’s throat. Pure pleasure rolled through him, echoing from his feet to his spine. The sharp edge that had sliced into him so painfully suddenly softened and the breath that followed his groan was a sigh of relief. David didn’t move away, taking in every drop and swallowing it down like it was the only thing in the world he wanted. He eased up only when Vincent loosened his grip, but even then continued to lick at the shaft, cleaning away any evidence. Vincent didn’t want to lose the sensation of David’s mouth, but he finally had to pull the other man off. The Moulin Rouge’s neon 55

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lights were bright enough to illuminate David’s face—to show the eagerness in his eyes and the glistening softness of his mouth. Unable to resist, he slammed his mouth to David’s in a hard, short kiss. He tasted his own skin and come, tasted the marijuana and booze as he had expected. David opened to the kiss, inviting Vincent to do more, to take more. But instead of giving into the silent invitation, Vincent broke away and released the other man. “Hold on tight. I’m not wasting any time getting back to the Thunderbird.”

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CHAPTER 5 David wasn’t nearly as high as he’d wanted to get, but then again, he’d never expected Vince to track him down. His first thought when he’d seen him filling the doorway had been sheer terror. Vince wouldn’t have come for him if he wasn’t angry. Then he’d taken a good look at the man’s face, and even with his head floating somewhere above his body, he could see straight through the hard mask. Any fears he might have had fled with the firm proof of Vince’s arousal. Vince wanted him. David wanted Vince. The math seemed pretty damn easy then. But as Vince tore through the streets of Vegas to get back to the Thunderbird, some of David’s euphoria began to wear off. He could still taste Vince’s come on his tongue, and his lips were still 57

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bruised from the fierce kiss he’d gotten afterward, but the reasons he’d taken off after the show started to creep back, the anxiety that what he was doing was wrong, that he was some kind of deviant for wanting this. For needing this. Hell, Vince had made his intentions perfectly clear, and even though David had never gone that far, he hadn’t even protested. Because the thought of being at Vince’s mercy, of that long, fat prick filling his body, of being completely consumed by him, had David shivering. If Vince pulled over right then, David would assume any position he asked without hesitation. On his knees. Bent over the hood. Stretched out in the backseat. Discreetly, he adjusted his erection. He’d hardened with his cock trapped in an awkward position against his thigh, and the angle it tried to break free of was painful. He glanced over to make sure Vince hadn’t noticed, only to flush when he saw Vince watching him out of the corner of his eye. “Regretting that we didn’t get a room at the Moulin Rouge?” “No.” He didn’t even pause to respond, though he followed it up with an embarrassed smile and, “Just that maybe I should’ve gotten myself off, too, when I did you.” “I’d help you out, but we’re almost there. I’ll park in the back so we can take the service elevator up.” He hadn’t anticipated an offer, hadn’t really been looking for one. But knowing Vince would, that the only reason he wasn’t was their proximity to the whole night spread out before them, brightened his smile into something more, something richer, something so broad he thought his face would break. “Are you coming to my suite, or are we going to yours?” “Yours. You did promise to play for me.” He had, but he hadn’t been entirely sure Vince would want 58

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that, once he was back in control of the situation. Or maybe he’d never been out of it. After all, he’d tracked David down. He’d come after exactly what he’d wanted. He’d gotten David into his car with little fuss and here they were, pulling into the employee parking lot. David would follow him anywhere, and trust Vince to do the right thing. If that wasn’t control, he didn’t know what was. He stuffed his hands in his pockets to hide their trembling, but he noticed Vince doing the same as they rode up the service elevator to the third floor. He didn’t have time to think about why, because there they were, and there was his door, and the key in his hand refused to work right until Vince took it away from him and turned it effortlessly in the lock. The door clicked shut behind them, and David opened his mouth to ask if Vince wanted to hear a song, or maybe offer a drink. Vince didn’t give him a chance to voice either thought. He gripped David by the shoulders, his fingers pressing into his flesh with bruising strength, and his hard mouth claimed David’s once again. There was nothing to fear here, nothing to hide from. Closed doors would protect them from prying eyes, and the only thing holding him back was himself. David didn’t want that. He fisted the front of Vince’s jacket and opened up to the assault, thrusting his tongue deep into the hot recesses of the other man’s mouth. His other arm slid around Vince’s waist, grinding their lower halves together. Vince was already hard again, and David thought he just might explode from rubbing against those magnificent muscles. He would definitely come if Vince ever got his hands on David’s bare skin. He probably wouldn’t even have to touch David’s prick. He wanted Vince—needed him—that much. 59

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Vince walked them backward as the kiss continued. David felt like he might trip over his own feet, but Vincent’s hold kept him upright. When his shoulders touched something hard, he realized he was standing against the wall beside the bedroom door. Vincent’s body completely filled his field of vision, and he saw the same hunger in Vincent’s eyes that he had noticed at the Moulin Rouge. Vincent gave a sharp tug on David’s shirt, yanking it free of his pants. His knuckles brushed against David’s stomach as he pushed his hand down the front of David’s pants. He cried out at the first rush of heat around his cock, callused fingers scraping along his sensitive shaft. His body jerked, and his hands flew up to Vince’s shoulders, trying to stay upright without needing the borrowed strength but failing miserably. “Don’t,” he begged. “I’ll come too soon.” Vincent must have heard him, but he didn’t give any sign of actually listening. He closed his fist around David’s length, using his other hand to pull the zipper down. His grip was tight, the pressure almost unbearable. David tried to protest again, but Vincent silenced him with another thorough kiss, his tongue diving deep into David’s mouth. Vincent began pumping his wrist, letting the heel of his palm grind against the too-sensitive skin at the tip of his cock, spreading the thick pre-come gathering there. His head spun, and his body writhed, trapped against the wall, in Vince’s thrall, on the edge of release. He couldn’t stop from pushing to meet each of Vince’s strokes, and he whimpered into his mouth, sucking hard at his tongue, squeezing his eyes shut when the shivers threatened to overwhelm him. Even his dreams hadn’t felt like this, and those had left him aching when he’d woken up from them. Nothing, it seemed, could compare to the very real power of the man, and his unrelenting drive to wring 60

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every ounce of pleasure from David’s body he could get. He came without warning. Though he’d known he was close, the force of his orgasm surprised even him, his shout tearing his mouth away from Vince’s as his head slammed back into the wall. Warm come shot upward, falling over the sides of Vince’s still moving hand, splattering across both of their shirts. David shook increasingly harder as he rode it out, but as his gasps for breath grew shallower, Vince sealed their mouths together yet again. Vince scraped his fingers down David’s softening length, gathering up the strings of come still clinging to his skin. He caught David’s bottom lip between his teeth, biting him lightly before soothing the sore flesh with his tongue. “Get in the bedroom and get undressed.” He stared up at Vince with mild disbelief. He actually expected his legs to work? Was he crazy? Vince didn’t give him a choice, though, when he let David go and stepped back, leaving him with only the wall for support. David fumbled for the doorknob, his hand slipping more than once. He’d regained a small measure of balance by the time he pushed it open, and stumbled across the threshold when his pants slipped around his ankles. Catching the edge of the dresser near the door, he toed off his shoes and stepped out of his pants, leaving them crumpled on the floor. A sticky strand of come leaked from his now limp cock, connecting with his thigh, but just because he’d finished once didn’t mean he was ready for this to be over. He was as excited now for Vince to fuck him as he’d been at the Moulin Rouge. He just had the added bonus of being completely boneless now to go with it. David had his back to the door, and he didn’t have any warning before Vincent wrapped his arm around his waist. He could tell 61

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that Vincent had been quick to shuck his own pants, though the hem of his shirt brushed against David’s back. He practically melted into Vincent’s hold, having no desire to resist the strength in Vincent’s hard body. Slick fingers slid down his ass, pushing past the flesh to find his tight hole. His arm tightened around David as the tip of one finger pushed into his opening. It burned, though it wasn’t painful. David forced his body to relax, leaning his head back against Vince’s shoulder. “What do I need to do?” Vince answered with another hard kiss that left him throbbing from his mouth to his groin. Every kiss was like a statement. Like Vince wanted to be sure David understood what he was doing and who he was with. “Just trust me. Stay relaxed. It might hurt a little, but I’ll try to make sure it doesn’t.” He nodded. He wanted to say he trusted Vince implicitly, but his voice refused to work properly. He could only hope Vince understood. As Vince pushed his finger deeper, David fumbled with the buttons on his shirt until it hung open. Taking it off wouldn’t be possible until Vince moved, though he had no idea if Vince ever would. He had no idea if he even wanted him to. The heavy weight of Vince’s renewed arousal nudged against his hip, and with his hands now free, David reached behind to touch the hot length. Vince’s shudder sent a surge of pleasure through David. Vince responded to every touch. Every small moment of contact. The reminder that he wasn’t the only one consumed by need intoxicated him. He closed his hand in a tight fist to stroke Vince’s cock, stripping his length with fingers that only trembled a little bit. Vince’s hand never stopped moving. Once his finger was 62

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buried up to its third knuckle, he began moving his wrist, twisting his finger back and forth, sliding it in and out. David’s experiences weren’t many, and most of them had been back alley liaisons, pants dropped for a quick suck, mutual hand jobs in a tiny bathroom stall. There had been one guy, an actor who picked up extra money tending bar and singing, who David had met more than once, but never anywhere they could be caught, never anywhere with an actual bed. He’d adored the time they spent together, because they’d had a little bit in common beyond just wanting to get off, but it hadn’t lasted. Afterward, his guilt had exploded, mostly because he’d missed it. Not the guy, but the companionship. And the sex. Especially the sex. This with Vince, even if only lasted this one night, eclipsed anything David had ever known. Once he got used to the single finger, he pushed back onto Vince’s hand, running his tongue over his dry lips as he panted for air. “More,” he said, and meant it. “Please, Vince.” David didn’t have to ask twice. Almost immediately, he felt a second finger pushing at his flesh, forcing the ring of muscle to give way to the intrusion. The addition of another finger didn’t hurt enough to make him pull away, but he gasped at the fresh burn. Vince had large hands, but even two fingers together were nowhere the size of his cock. His legs felt weak, all the strength in his body had simply drained away. “Can’t wait to fuck you,” Vince murmured. “Been thinking about this ass all night.” Closing his eyes, he focused on the fiery sensations, bracing against Vince’s strength. “I thought about you all night, too. Kate yelled at me on our break because I was all over the place with my playing.” 63

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“Shouldn’t have left.” Vince pumped his wrist, but this time, he did something a little different. David wasn’t quite sure what. All he knew was that it made lights explode behind his closed eyes. “I don’t want to have to chase you down again.” A repeat of whatever glorious trick Vince seemed to know made David gasp. “I didn’t expect you to look for me tonight.” “I have the feeling I’ll be looking for you most nights.” The simple declaration drove his eyes open again, and he arched against Vince, turning his head to blindly find his mouth. His hand slipped on Vince’s cock, but he didn’t think Vince minded too much. He was too busy sliding a third finger into his ass, and now, David felt it, tensing around the thickness, choking back a cry as he tried to follow Vince’s instruction and relax. Without releasing David or pulling his hand away, Vincent walked him to the opposite side of the small room and guided him to kneeling on the mattress. Every step, every new position, seemed to drive Vincent’s fingers deeper, or changed the angle of his touch, which created more pressure and stoked at the pleasure burning through him. “You think you’re ready?” As ready as he was ever going to be. David nodded and fell forward, catching himself on his hands as he widened his knees a little more. His cock slapped against his thigh, and his ass felt open and empty when Vince pulled his hand free. He shivered at the callused fingers that ran over his lower back, and looked over his shoulder to see Vince’s lust-filled gaze locked on each stroke of his hand. “Do I have to say it?” His voice had gone even huskier. “Fuck me, Vince.” Vince gripped the base of his cock and aimed its blunt head at 64

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David’s stretched hole. He couldn’t look away, even when Vince kneeled behind him and he felt, rather than saw, the crown press against his flesh. Vince’s attention was focused entirely on David’s ass, his eyes heavy-lidded as he watched the tip push into David’s channel. David gasped at the intrusion, and it only got harder to breathe as Vince sank deeper and deeper, forcing David’s walls to stretch to accommodate his width. He hadn’t expected gentleness, not from a man like Vince. Yet, as unyielding as Vince’s careful penetration was, David somehow knew it could have hurt a lot worse than it did. Yes, it burned, and until the head had pushed past the outer ring, he’d wanted to shout from the agony, but after that initial ache, a slow warmth flooded through his hips and thighs. It obliterated any thought of begging Vince to slow, or pulling away. It left him fisting the bedcovers and moaning with the exquisite bliss of it, a mix of pain and pleasure like he’d never imagined before. The backward stroke almost took David by surprise. He knew it was going to happen, but he had no way of knowing that it would burn the same. That the friction would ignite his flesh like a spark to dry tinder. He couldn’t bite back his shout. Or the one that followed when Vince slammed forward again. David felt the force of Vince’s thrust from his feet to his teeth. His bones rattled, his breath caught, and for a moment, he didn’t think he could withstand it. He opened his mouth, prepared to beg for a reprieve, but he was silenced with another hard jerk of Vince’s hips. “Fuck, you feel good,” Vince ground out. He didn’t think Vince expected him to respond. He didn’t know how Vince could imagine he’d be able to. The best he could do was balance himself on one hand and reach back, seeking out the hard muscle of Vince’s body as he drove into David a third 65

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time. His nails scratched into the skin before he found a good hold, but Vince only drove harder, his balls slapping against David’s with a sting that compounded the fire racing through his veins. In spite of his earlier orgasm, his cock was coming back to life. Whatever Vince had been doing with his fingers at the door was now being repeated with each shuttle into his body, each one drawing a gasp as more nerve endings erupted. Part of David wanted to reach down and touch himself, to jerk off at the same bruising tempo Vince set. The fear he’d come just as easily a second time stopped him. He wanted this to last, and something told him Vince was interested in the very same thing. David’s slick palm slid against the sheet, and he didn’t have the ability to catch himself. He rested his cheek against the bed, his arm folded beneath him, the angle of his hips changing. He didn’t know why or how, but the new angle was definitely for the better. Why had he never done this before? Why had he waited so long to be fucked? At that moment, he didn’t know. He didn’t know anything except the pleasure rolling through him in greater and greater waves. “Harder,” he heard. A moment later, he realized the plea had come from his throat, that it had been his hoarse voice begging Vince for more. So he did it again, desperate for more, hungry for everything, uncaring of any of the guilt he’d carried in the past. None of that mattered. What mattered was here, was now, was Vince. The sinuous play of muscles beneath David’s hand. The harsh slap of skin against sweaty skin. The hands that gripped his body and held him tight, refusing him the room to move away or otherwise end their joining, not until Vince was good and ready. Vince responded to David’s pleas, giving him exactly what he begged for. David knew he would be feeling this encounter the 66

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next day. And probably the day after that and the day after that. Vince’s rhythm was hard and fast, without a single pause, or a break, or a chance to gasp for breath. The skin beneath David’s fingers was slick with sweat, and the sting of flesh slapping against flesh was sharper. Brighter. One of Vince’s hands slid over his hip and down his thigh, until his fingers brushed against David’s throbbing cock. It sent a jolt up his spine, and for a brief second, he thought he was going to lose it. Somehow, he stopped himself from flying over the edge, but Vince’s fingers were still there, still creating electric shocks deep in his skin. His arm was going numb, and his shoulder ached, but David ignored all of it to focus on Vince and what he was doing to drive David crazy. His thrusts had become almost brutal in their intensity, his cock stretching and filling beyond anything David thought possible. But the hand on David’s prick wasn’t. There, his fingers skimmed almost delicately, up his shaft, around the crown, smearing the pre-come dripping incessantly onto the blankets. It might have tickled if David wasn’t so close to coming again. Instead, it fanned the heat building inside him, each long stroke a counterpoint to the relentless drives into his ass. He lost it when Vince circled his thumb and middle finger behind the crown, squeezing as the index finger slipped through the fluid in the slit. David screamed. His head flung backward, his entire body arching toward Vince, and every muscle inside his body clamped down. His flesh pulsed with the same rapid tempo of his release, sticky come splattering onto the covers and around Vince’s fingers to fill his nose with the smell of sex. He couldn’t breathe. His lungs refused to work. The world tunneled to darkness as he 67

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squeezed his eyes shut and fought against the vertigo working against him. The world tilted without warning, and David didn’t understand what was happening until Vince claimed his mouth with a typically bruising kiss. Vince’s arm went around him, and he felt nothing except a wall of heated, sweaty flesh against him. The aftershocks of his orgasm made his thighs twitch, and he clamped down hard around Vince’s cock. Vince’s tongue plunged into his mouth as he thrust forward one final time, completely filling David’s body. Vince’s shout echoed through David as his cock jerked, filling David with come. Neither one of them moved, but neither of them were still, either. They were both twitching and writhing, pushing against each other with need that was still fresh. He only tore away from Vince’s mouth because dots danced behind his eyes. Gasping for breath, David curved his arm back to clutch at Vince’s nape, pulling him down to rake more kisses along his neck. “Tell me we’re not done.” He didn’t care how eager he sounded. All he cared about was doing whatever was necessary to get Vince to stay. “We’re not done.” Vince caught David’s mouth, sucking on his bottom lip before releasing him. “We will be taking a dinner and shower break, though.” He groaned when Vince pulled out of his ass, though the other man kept him from toppling bonelessly back to the bed. “What happened to playing for you?” “Why don’t you play while we’re waiting for dinner?” The thought of sitting still long enough to do it had laughter bubbling up from his chest. In fact, his entire body felt light, like he could float away at any moment. “It might not sound the same. I think I’m going to have to do it standing up for a while.” 68

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Vince frowned and gently lowered David to the mattress. “Maybe you should rest.” “No.” Somehow, he managed to twist and loop his arms around Vince’s neck, smiling when the larger man had no choice but to fall on top of him. His back was sticky with come, his ass ached, and Vince’s weight wasn’t helping his difficulty breathing, but David couldn’t remember when he’d ever felt this content. “Not unless you stay with me.” “I’ll stay, but if I do, I can’t promise you’ll actually get much rest.” “You’re the one who mentioned resting. Not me.” “I just don’t want to be the one responsible for…hurting the headliner.” “This kind of hurt, I can live with.” He lifted his head for another kiss, this one slower though no less deep. He might regret the decision in twenty-four hours, when he had to keep his ass parked in front of an audience for eight hours, but right here, right now, this was exactly what he wanted.

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CHAPTER 6 Vincent wasn’t surprised when he received the order. As soon as he turned the evidence over to the boss, he knew what the response would be. Two different people had told him that they witnessed Johnny and Sal entering the home of Paul Rossellini on two different occasions. The second occasion had been the very morning of their attempted attack on David. That alone wasn’t enough to rub Rossellini out, but it was enough to encourage Vincent to continue his investigation. The damning piece of evidence came from an old friend of Vincent’s. Eddie Stuart was known in Vegas for continuing the fine tradition of kidnapping that sprung up thirty years earlier in Chicago and perfected there by Curly Humphries. He was contacted by Paul Rossellini and offered a contract, but instead of 70

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carrying it out, he wisely called Vincent. Jimmy’s instincts had been accurate, as they so often were. And the only thing that trumped Eddie’s greed was his sense of survival. If it hadn’t been for that, Eddie would have kidnapped Kate Ennis from her new home right under Jimmy’s nose. There was simply no other option after the boss learned that. Vincent’s orders were direct, simple, and urgent. Rossellini would learn by the end of the night that he had been double-crossed. The only way to ensure that Eddie wouldn’t die for his betrayal was to make sure Rossellini didn’t live long enough to discover it. Vincent only had a small window to do the job, but if anybody in Vegas could pull it off, it was him. That was why the Outfit had made sure to install him in their all-important Las Vegas experiment. If the Thunderbird thrived, that would open the door to allow much larger and more ambitious casinos. Rossellini maintained several residences in Las Vegas, including a penthouse at the top of the Flamingo. It wouldn’t be impossible to get up to the penthouse, rub Rossellini out, and sneak back downstairs, but it certainly wasn’t preferable. A discreet call to the front desk confirmed that Rossellini had instructed the night manager that he was lending his penthouse to “a certain Hollywood contact.” Vincent didn’t ask for the contact’s name, but judging from the tone of the revelation, Vincent would definitely be impressed if he knew. Rossellini’s home on Jessica Avenue wasn’t large enough, or ostentatious enough, to be called a mansion, but it was clear that he was a man with his own type of power. And a man with aspirations for more. He had a history with the Outfit, though Vincent had only met him twice before. He had never been a formal member of the organization, just flitted around the edges. He had been a union 71

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buster until he realized that there was a better, more lucrative racket to dabble in. Policy numbers—gambling. He did most of his work at the racetrack, but everybody knew that the skim was better at a casino. Not just better. Beyond anything he would have experienced before. The numbers might not have even made real sense to him. They were the sort of numbers that could lead a man to try his hand at extortion, kidnapping, and murder. Vincent parked on Norman Avenue, which ran parallel to Jessica. He turned the headlights off and plunged the silent street into darkness. Most of the houses were completely blank, only a handful of upper story windows colored yellow. A dog barked somewhere, and a car from a few streets over backfired. Or maybe Vincent wasn’t the only one on a mission? Rossellini probably had more than one enemy in town. It would certainly make his night easier. He had other things he would rather be doing. Vincent almost smiled at the thought of the other things he would rather be doing. He had been so caught up in this issue that he hadn’t had a chance to spend any time with David. The past two mornings, he woke up with a serious boner and David’s body at the front of his mind. Both times, he considered going across the hall and knocking on David’s door, but ultimately dismissed the idea. He needed to be focused. He needed to concentrate. He couldn’t let David distract him, but he could indulge in every single fantasy he had once he completed the job. And he fully intended to do so. He stuck to the shadows as he moved through the sleeping neighborhood. Most of the houses in the area were empty, but they wouldn’t be for long. Las Vegas was booming, and the promise of easy money attracted people from all over the country. He kept his step light and moved silently through the yards, scaling a few 72

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fences to approach Rossellini’s house from behind. The windows on the ground floor were dark, but Vincent could see three different figures silhouetted against a second floor window. Paul and two bodyguards? Vincent could handle three. He just hoped there weren’t more lurking around. Keeping low and against the fence, he crossed the yard, watching the window the whole time. The shadows barely moved. Whatever they were discussing had them completely engrossed. Or maybe one of them had noticed him? Maybe they were watching him as he watched them, waiting for him to get closer before they made their move. With an effort, Vincent pushed the thought out of his head. He needed to be cautious, yes, but he couldn’t fall into the trap of thinking of the worst possible scenario and indulging in that fear. The back porch stretched across the entire side of the house. He moved along the edge, testing each board before putting his full weight on it, wary of the lightest creak. A careful inspection at each window revealed the first floor was as empty as it was dark. His luck didn’t hold out, though. A quick test revealed that the backdoor was locked. He dropped to one knee with his lockpicking kit, a small flashlight clenched between his teeth. The porch roof would protect him from sight, but he still needed to work fast. He had done the same thing thousands of times before, and the simple lock released after only seconds. Vincent straightened and gently pushed the door open. It swung silently on its hinges, too new to develop a creak or a groan. He dropped his tools and pulled his gun from his holster, holding it at the ready. Once he was in the house, the vague feeling of anxiety fled. He moved automatically, his body knowing exactly what he needed to do. He felt completely ordinary, completely in his 73

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element. His Uncle Joe had called him a natural at this, and maybe he was. He had the blood of hit men, of enforcers, of bosses running in his veins. He ascended the flight of stairs slowly, keeping each step deliberate. He was in control now. That confidence carried him to the second floor and the long corridor that stretched from one end of the house to the other. He paused, hoping to hear voices, but there were no sounds and no clues as to how many people were actually on the second floor. He hoped that Rossellini didn’t have a girl up there. Vincent tried to minimize the number of innocent people he had to take out. A door opened, spilling light into the hallway. Vincent tensed and readied his gun as a man stepped from the room. It definitely wasn’t Paul, but he had a gun in his hand and another in his side holster. A normal person didn’t walk around a private residence armed with at least two guns. Vincent prepared to fire, his finger over the trigger, just as the man looked up. He raised his own weapon, but never had the chance to squeeze off a round. Vincent’s bullet buried itself in the center of the unfortunate bodyguard’s forehead. He had a muzzle on the gun, but the report still echoed off the small space. Another man quickly joined his friend in the hallway, firing as soon as he stepped out of the room. Vincent dove to the ground, avoiding getting hit, and rolled to put himself into position. Another bullet embedded itself in the wall just to the right of his ear, and Vincent sent up a quick prayer of thanks for the man’s poor aim as he aimed for the man’s heart. One bullet brought him to the ground, blood gushing from the fresh hole in his chest, painting the carpet and walls a dark red. Paul didn’t follow his guards. He had the advantage if he 74

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stayed in the room. He could be armed to the teeth, with each gun trained patiently on the entryway. Vincent wasn’t going to make himself such an easy target. Instead of barreling into the room with guns blazing, he moved down the hallway to the next door. The bedroom was empty, though it looked like it probably belonged to a child. Vincent almost felt a twinge of remorse, but that was easily extinguished. If Paul wanted to live to see his kid grow up, he wouldn’t have hatched a scheme to kidnap Jimmy’s girl for ransom. He made his choice, and now he had to suffer the consequences. Everybody had to pay their dues in the end. Vincent let himself out through the window, more than a little relieved when the slanted roof accepted his weight without a sound—or bend—of protest. Paul was still in the room where Vincent left him, but he stood at the door with his back to the window. From the angle of his arm, he was holding a weapon, and he didn’t turn as Vincent slowly eased the window open. Balancing carefully, he gripped his right wrist with his left, held the gun steady, and fired. The back of Paul’s head collapsed and the man flew forward, out of the room, to land on top of his failed bodyguard. Vincent let himself back into the house and immediately began searching the desk. He pulled out the drawers and scattered them all over the room, then moved to the bookshelves. Volume after volume hit the ground. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, but he did find a Bible lined with hundred dollar bills. Vincent slipped the book in his pocket and sidestepped the bodies, careful to avoid stepping in the blood that still flowed like a river. “Paul?” Shit. Vincent only had seconds to make up his mind and act. If the 75

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owner of the voice came upstairs and saw him, he’d have to kill her. Vincent made it a point to minimize the collateral damage, but he would put a bullet between her eyes if necessary. “Paul? Are you here? I thought I heard something while I was parking the car.” The volume of her voice changed as she drifted around the first floor, turning on lights. “I left Julie at my sister’s house. I figured it’s been awhile since we had any…alone time. Paul?” Vincent slipped back into Paul’s office and returned to the window. He didn’t want to be anywhere near the house when she finally made it upstairs to discover the body. Which meant he had to take his chances off the roof. It had a steep incline, but it was probably still a good twelve or fifteen feet from the ground. With his gun secure, he hurried to the edge and leapt before he could change his mind. He rolled as he hit the ground and jumped to his feet, ready to run. He froze before he took his first step as the woman’s scream echoed around him. It was high pitched and horrified and it rattled through his bones. It would wake everybody on the block. She screamed again and again, and he imagined her with her cheeks white, her eyes bulging, and her mouth frozen open in a ring of terror. It might have been kinder to kill her, too. It certainly would have been safer. He sprinted across the yard, sacrificing silence for a quick escape. *

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*

David smiled through the applause, but as soon as he left the stage to let Kate take her solo bows, his entire body sagged. It was more than exhaustion, though that certainly played a part. It was 76

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the weight of his wayward thoughts, arguments he’d been having with himself for two days now. Vince starred in every single one of them. He’d woken up the morning after his escape to the Moulin Rouge with an empty bed, an aching ass, and an overwhelming sense of guilt about the entire encounter. It was one thing to want Vince as much as he did, and maybe it wasn’t quite so bad since Vince had clearly wanted the same thing, but that still didn’t make it right. If anyone found out, his life as he knew it would be over. His family would never forgive him. He could already see his mother kneeling in church, her rosary dripping from her hands as her fingers flew over the beads as she prayed for his soul. Wanting Vince—craving that sort of decadent contact, even now when every twitch of his body reminded him of how hard Vince had fucked him—went against everything he had ever been taught or shown. He was going straight to hell for this. No passing Go. No collecting two hundred dollars. It helped, to a small measure, that he hadn’t seen Vince since that night. The first time David had looked for him, a habit he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to break, Kate had noticed and said he was busy working on something for Jimmy. David took the relief for the gift it was, but somewhere, in the back of his head, behind all the recriminations and promises never to let it happen again, he worried that the reason Vince wasn’t around was because he didn’t want to face David again. The sex had been fantastic for David, but maybe not so much for Vince. He could have anybody he wanted, after all, and David had been a virgin in that regard. Maybe he’d disappointed Vince in some way. That was worse than all his guilt put together. Because even 77

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before the sex, he’d genuinely liked Vince. That meant wanting to impress him. He opted out of cleaning up downstairs and went straight for the third floor. An early night, that’s what he needed. The blackness of sleep, and maybe, if he took something to help with that, he wouldn’t have the dreams about Vince. He could live with the sex dreams—hell, if he was going to give up the real thing, the sex dreams were all he had—but the others, the ones springing from his fear, the ones where Vince stood side by side with his family and said in no uncertain terms that David needed to get over it…those he could definitely do without. Letting himself into his suite, he flicked the light on next to the door out of habit. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Vince sitting on the short sofa. “Jesus,” he said and took a deep breath to quell the sudden race of his heart. “Next time, warn a guy, will you?” “I didn’t expect you so soon. Did you come right up from the show?” David took a step closer. “Yeah. I’m a little tired tonight.” “So am I.” Vince held out his hand. “What are you doing clear over there?” He’d taken another step before he caught himself. For all David’s resolve, seeing Vince made him feel light for the first time in two days. He had to force himself to remember everything else that had gone through his head since their last meeting. “Can I get you something to drink?” he said instead. He crossed to the bar and poured himself a finger of scotch. “Or we could get some dinner sent up if you’re hungry.” “I’m not hungry, but I could use a drink. Or two.” It wasn’t until he was reaching for the second glass that he 78

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realized he’d asked out of habit, but this was the first time Vince had ever actually accepted. He glanced back, trying to read Vince’s face, but as usual, it was calm and closed, if a little tired. The only time David had seen that particular mask slip had been the night of Moulin Rouge, both at the other casino and here in David’s suite. Still, something was wrong for Vince to ask for alcohol, and David couldn’t just ignore it to placate his own feelings of guilt. “Kate says you’ve been busy,” he said when he handed Vince the drink. He took a careful seat on the couch next to him, with enough distance to encourage conversation rather than contact. “Busy?” Vince sniffed at his drink, took a small—even dainty—sip, and nodded. “Yeah, you could say that. I had to follow up on those two assholes I chucked out of here.” Fresh guilt washed through him. Vince hadn’t been ignoring him; he’d been finishing the business David couldn’t deal with himself. At the rate David was going, he was going to have the market cornered on the emotion. “Is everything okay? They didn’t come back, did they?” “No. Hell, for all I know they got smart and headed down to Mexico. But somebody paid them to do a job, and I needed to find out who and why.” Another small sip. He was drinking like a man who didn’t know how to drink. “I probably shouldn’t tell you too much, though.” “I know how to keep my mouth shut.” “I’m not worried about that. I’m worried about what’ll happen if you get subpoenaed.” Which could only mean something illegal had happened, but this was Vince, and saying the next felt like the most natural thing in the world. “You shouldn’t. I know how to lie, too.” “You probably shouldn’t be so eager to commit perjury. But 79

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those guys weren’t really interested in you. It was more like a warning shot.” That was a relief, though only a mild one. It meant something dangerous was on the horizon, something poising to unsettle his new life. Silently, David laughed at himself. Vince had already done that, hadn’t he? But right now, with the man sitting next to him, it was hard—or next to impossible—to remember how tumultuous his thoughts had been before walking into his suite. “You don’t have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable,” David said. “But something’s obviously eating at you. And you came looking for me for a reason, didn’t you?” “I came looking for you because I wanted to see you.” He glanced up, studying David’s face. “If you’re worried about what they were after, don’t be. I took care of the threat. I just…I don’t like to leave witnesses.” “I’m not worried about what they were after. I’m worried about you.” Vince shrugged. “There was a woman there. She shouldn’t have been there at all. She was supposed to be out all night. Her and the kid. I don’t think she saw me. I hope for her sake she didn’t. You should be worried about her.” He should, but he wasn’t, at least not directly. He understood what Vince was saying. If he’d been seen, he would need to take out the witness. Clearly, he didn’t want to, but there would be no shirking his responsibility if that time ever came. David wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of an innocent person getting killed, just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time—that could be Kate someday, after all—but that was living for a what if that might not ever happen. “Well, you said it yourself. She probably didn’t see you. And if 80

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she did, well, all you need is an alibi, right? I can do that.” “Why do you want to get yourself tangled up in this stuff?” For a second, he hesitated. “Because…we’re friends. Aren’t we?” Vince tilted his head. “You know, I can’t figure you out. Are you really telling me that you’d risk going to jail for the rest of your life because we’re friends?” No, there was more to it than that, so much more it choked in David’s throat. He managed, “You risked going to jail when I got the black hand.” Vince’s frown deepened. “No, I didn’t, David. The police around here don’t care if thugs beat on each other a bit. As far as they’re concerned, it’s a victimless crime. Is that what all this has been about? Do you feel like you need to pay me back?” “What? No, no, that’s not it at all.” He had no idea how Vince had come to that conclusion, only that he had to fix it as soon as possible. “I mean, yeah, I feel indebted to you about taking care of the problem for me. That was a big thing, whether you say so or not. But this”—he gestured between them—“and the drink, and the other night at the Moulin Rouge, and after, that’s about you, not about what you’ve done for me.” “You still feel that way even knowing what I did tonight?” “Vince, I figured out what you had to do when you took care of those black hand guys for me. If it didn’t bother me then, it’s not going to bother me now.” “Then come over here.” He wanted to. He should’ve known sitting next to him was playing with fire, but when Vince looked at him like that, when he held his hand out to him in such obvious need, he wanted to crawl across the cushions and devour the man from head to toe. He 81

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almost did. Like before, he tensed in anticipation of moving, almost an automatic response, before reason returned, and he tightened his grip on his glass, keeping it between them like a shield. “I can’t.” “You can’t? What does that mean?” “It means…” He floundered for the words. They escaped him at the easiest of times, like dead leaves caught in a gale. Now, they refused to even acknowledge his presence. “We shouldn’t do that.” “Two days ago, you were begging me not to stop.” “I know.” God, did he know. In between the dreams, the memories of those hours made him ache. “I wasn’t thinking straight. You found me when I was smoking.” Vince’s lips tightened into a thin line, and his eyes hardened. David had never been on the receiving end of that particular look before, and his blood turned to ice water. “You knew what you wanted.” “That doesn’t make it right.” His nostrils flared and he brought the tumbler up to his mouth. David could only watch as he downed what remained of the booze in a single swallow. He set the glass down on the side table, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and pushed himself to his feet. “I killed a man tonight in his own house. I left him in a pool of blood for his wife to find. He had two bodyguards, and I rubbed them out, too. I’ve already come to terms with my eternal fate. I don’t need to hear about right and wrong from you.” “I’m not trying to preach at you!” Though Vince leaving would solve everything, David rose as well, wishing he stood a little bit taller. “I’m just trying to explain why I can’t do this anymore. 82

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That’s all. This isn’t about what you do.” David expected Vince to keep walking to the door. He absolutely did not expect the larger man to turn on his heel and stalk back to David, invading his personal space and forcing him to look up to see Vince’s eyes. He cupped the back of David’s neck with one large hand, but his grip was surprisingly gentle with no hint of the strength David knew he possessed. “You want me to leave?” “No,” he blurted. Because he didn’t. The touch of his hot hand was the best thing he’d felt in two days. The most right thing. And that, in and of itself, was why he had to add, “But I don’t know how to let you stay.” The fingers on his neck tightened slightly. The light pressure made his flesh pulse. “What if I don’t give you a choice?” It would be easier. It would be an excuse. It would be what he wanted, even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself. He could have tonight, and he’d be able to give Vince what he wanted, and then, in the morning… He’d be right where he was this morning. And yesterday. “I can’t stop you.” He had no idea how he kept his voice so even. “But is that really what you want to do?” “You already told me you don’t want me to go. Maybe I asked the wrong question. Do you want me to stay?” David took a deep, shuddering breath, blocking out the shivers Vince’s low voice and deliberate touch evoked. “Only if you can tell me we won’t end up fucking somehow.” Vince tilted his head and found David’s mouth with a soft kiss. The contact was so fleeting, David could almost believe it didn’t happen at all. He released David as he lifted his head and took a step toward the door. “I can’t.” 83

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He’d been right. Letting Vince take the decision out of his hands would have been easier. Anything would have been easier, actually, than watching Vince turn around and walk away, letting him open the door and step through it, accepting the silence and emptiness he left behind without a single word of protest. But David did.

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CHAPTER 7 When he heard that Kate would be attending Paul Rossellini’s funeral with Jimmy, David thought he’d fallen asleep and woken up in some kind of Orson Welles movie. It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? According to Vince, Jimmy was the one behind the hit in the first place. What kind of sense did it make for the people responsible for the funeral to attend? Kate laughed at him when he voiced his confusion at their daily rehearsal. “Sometimes, you’re so darn cute with how green you are. You never went to any of the funerals back home?” “Why would I?” “Because you knew people all over town. How is it you can play in some of those places and not know how these things work?” 85

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He only had one answer for her. “Because I’m there to play. I didn’t mix with any of that outside of the clubs.” Kate draped over the end of the piano, a long auburn curl slipping over her shoulder. “And what did you think would happen when you came out here? You knew what Jimmy did for a living.” He did, and he’d known what Vince did, but it had never been close enough to him before to really make an impact. Now Vince’s queries about how he felt about beating up the black hand guys, and killing Rossellini, sounded different when he replayed them in his head. He’d brushed off Vince’s concerns, partially because he’d been so wrapped up in the sex part of their odd relationship. Perhaps he’d done so too nonchalantly. It still didn’t bother him as much as he thought it probably should, but that was likely due to the fact that he’d been the injured party. An eye for an eye. These people knew what they were getting into when they got into this business. They should be prepared to accept the consequences. “Does it bother you?” He remembered Vince’s fear about having to hurt the wife, sparking his own fears for Kate. “Don’t you worry you’re going to get hurt because of Jimmy?” She shrugged. “Sometimes, sure. Would I like it better if he was legit? Yeah, but there’s nothing I can do about it. He does what he can to protect me. He’d probably lock me in a cage if I let him. But that’s part of who he is. His business part. The rest of him…I love the rest of him. He treats me like gold, he’s funny, he’s generous, he’s good-looking. What more could I ask for?” Stated like that, David had no way to argue. She was right about how Jimmy treated her. He’d never seen Kate so happy. Until the last couple days, he’d never been so happy, either, and he knew for a fact that wasn’t all because of getting to play in Vegas. “So you’re really going to go to this?” 86

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“Of course. I have to support Jimmy. Everybody goes, David. It’s a show of respect.” He didn’t know how Jimmy could pretend to respect a man who’d been orchestrating a plan to kidnap Kate, but it wasn’t his business. This was how they worked. This was who Jimmy was. This was who Vince was. He began noodling around, not really paying too much attention to what he actually played. “I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you, you know. Protecting you from all this.” She smiled softly. “The only people who ever really thought that were you and my mom.” “So you’ve just been humoring me?” “I wanted you to have this chance. You were too good to hide in Chicago.” “I wasn’t hiding.” “You weren’t letting yourself really get out there, either.” “Because I’m not you, Kate. I don’t care how many people get to hear me play. Just so long as I can support myself doing it.” “Vince thinks you’re too good to be stuck backing singers for the rest of your life.” Mention of Vince made his fingers skip over the next notes. With his heart pounding in his chest, he dropped his hands into his lap to hide their sudden shaking. “When did you talk to Vince about me?” She gave no indication that she’d noticed his reaction. “I didn’t. He talks to Jimmy. Jimmy told me.” He put on a smile and teased, “You trying to get rid of me?” “I’m just saying, is all. And Vince knows what he’s talking about. Jimmy said he’s got a real ear for music. He was glad you two hit it off so good.” 87

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He sincerely doubted Jimmy would be glad about just how good they got along, though. Even before everything had turned physical. All those conversations about David’s playing, and the shows they watched, and every little thing that seemed to come up, the ease with which they talked. His gaze dropped to the keys. He hadn’t seen Vince in the two days since turning him down. They’d been longer than the two he’d spent guilting himself over the sex, far longer, an eternity in comparison. But the fact of the matter was, he missed Vince, far more than he should have, far more than anyone should experience. “If you’re going to this funeral, I should go, too,” he said. “It would look funny if you’re there and I’m not.” Kate didn’t argue, but instead nodded in agreement. “A united front. Jimmy will like that.” Jimmy’s opinion wasn’t the one he cared about. As Kate picked up her sheet music, David wondered if Vince would have the same reaction. Then he wondered why it mattered to him so much that he did. *

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God was going to strike him down for walking into church with a hard-on, but after two days of not seeing Vince, David couldn’t take his eyes off how sleek and sexy he looked in his tailored black suit. His normally unruly hair had been tamed into place, and the hard set of his jaw drew attention to his sensual mouth. He’d nodded at David in greeting when he’d come down with Kate, but even though David sat in the front with him on the ride to the church, he had yet to utter a word. 88

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David decided that was okay. He was content being in Vince’s company and stealing glances. He felt like he’d been starved of the man. He would take what he could. The church was packed with people he didn’t recognize and oddly enough, a few he did. The band he’d jammed with at the Moulin Rouge sat in the back row. Joseph, the drummer, nodded at him as he passed, and he made a mental note to seek them out after the services. Jimmy chose a row in the middle. David slid in first, with Kate next, followed by Jimmy. Vince sat on the end. Too many people blocked David’s view now, not without making him look obvious, and he settled into the pew with a sigh. Part of him was relieved he wouldn’t have to continue the torture of being in such close proximity to Vince. Another part wished it didn’t have to end. Rossellini’s widow sat in the front row, flanked by her own coterie of suits. Every once in a while, the little girl at her side would fidget and start craning her neck to look at the people sitting behind her, until her mother bent over and said something, temporarily quieting the child. David didn’t blame her. The service seemed to go on forever. Every time one person came up to speak about Paul Rossellini, he was sure they would be the last. But then they’d sit down, the priest would say a few words, and lo and behold, someone else would rise to take the podium. Two and a half hours later, his ass was numb, he knew more about this particular dead mobster than made him comfortable, and his stomach was starting to growl. He had never been more relieved about anything than when the organ piped up and people began filing out of the church. When their row stood to exit, he leaned forward and murmured 89

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in Kate’s ear, “I see some people I know. I’m just going to go say hi to them before they leave.” She glanced curiously over her shoulder. “Who?” “Just some friends I made at the Moulin Rouge. I won’t be but a few minutes. Jimmy’s not taking off right away, is he?” “No, he’s got to say something to the widow first. With this many people here, it’ll probably take a while.” “Okay. I’ll keep an eye out. Don’t let him go without me.” He broke off as soon as he was able to get free of the pew, though he nearly stopped when he noticed Vince looking in his direction. His erection had died in the drone of the service, but that one glance was all it took to come raging back. He tore his eyes away, only because if he didn’t, he’d go to the man and beg forgiveness for ever turning him away. He still might. But not now. Joseph spotted him approaching first, and a brilliant smile split his features. “Irish! We were about to head out for a smoke. Care to join us?” Their small group was separate from the others, most of the mourners ignoring their presence. Jimmy, Kate, and Vince waited in line to give their condolences, and unlike earlier, Vince seemed unaware of his location. Nobody would notice his absence. They slipped out around the others, sliding around the front of the building to an empty patch of lawn where nobody lingered. The bass player, a big, burly guy David was embarrassed he couldn’t recall the name of, pulled out a pack of cigarettes and held it out for everyone to dig into. David took one and accepted the light Joseph offered, waiting until everyone had taken a drag or two before speaking. “So what’re you guys doing here?” 90

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Joseph exhaled, a faint plume wafting over his head. “Could ask you the same thing.” “Just paying my respects.” The men around him grinned. A few of them laughed. Joseph knocked off some of his ashes and shook his head. “Nobody respects Rossellini here. The only people in that church upset about him buying the farm are his kid and his wife.” “Someone said she found him,” the bass player commented. “Better her than the kid.” A murmured round of agreement circulated among the men. David couldn’t help but remember the look on Vince’s face when he’d talked about that night, about almost getting caught when he’d thought he was making a clean break. I hope for her sake she didn’t. “Maybe today helped,” David said. “A lot of people had nice things to say about Rossellini.” The singer, a slick player type named Clive, snorted. “They’re all lying through their teeth.” Joseph leveled a curious gaze at David. “You should know that, Irish. You showed up here with Jimmy Moretti.” He fought to keep his features even, pulling a drag from the cigarette to help block out his momentary alarm. “Yeah, so?” “So? Word on the street is, Jimmy’s man did the deed.” “Nothing says, ‘I hate you,’ better than a bullet in the brain,” Clive quipped. David deliberately refrained from looking over his shoulder to see if Vince had come out of the church yet. “That’s stupid. The way I heard it, Rossellini was small potatoes. Why would Jimmy want him dead?” “Who knows? But be ready to duck, my man. That Shorty’s 91

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going to be next, if Rossellini’s gang gets their way.” Everything inside of David stopped. Retaliation. Revenge. An eye for an eye. No matter what kind of label got slapped onto it, the fact remained the same. Vince was in danger. “Speaking of Shorty…” He dropped his cigarette to the ground and stepped on it, crushing its burning tip into the dirt. “I should get back to them before they leave me here. They’re my ride back to the Thunderbird.” “When are you dragging your ass back to the Rouge?” Joseph asked. “Soon,” he promised. He tipped a finger and nodded good-bye to the others, then turned on his heel and strolled back to the front of the church. He would’ve preferred to run, but the last thing he was going to do now was draw even more attention to the fact he needed to find Vince. Now. Jimmy and Kate were still waiting in the receiving line, though they were much closer to the front now. Vince wasn’t with them. David scanned the room, certain that he would choose to stick close to his boss. People were milling around, congregating into small groups full of whispered, intense conversations, but none of them were the tall, broad-shouldered man David was searching for. He worked his way through the room, avoiding making eye contact with anybody. He didn’t want to be stopped or interrupted from his quest. Not until he had told Vince exactly what he heard. After the longest ten minutes of his life, he caught sight of Vince’s dark hair and strong jaw. He was speaking to another man who had scars running across both cheeks and down his nose. The look he shot David as he approached was clearly designed to keep him from taking another step. 92

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David froze. On the one hand, Vince would shield business from anyone, keeping things as private as he always did. The night of Rossellini’s hit had been the first time he’d really said anything of depth to David about it, after all. On the other, he needed to know the danger, as soon as humanly possible. David wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened to Vince that he could have prevented. What kept his feet glued to his spot was the hope nobody would actually try something at Rossellini’s funeral. Too many witnesses. He would simply have to wait his turn. As soon as the scarred man shook Vince’s hand and turned to leave, though, David edged closer. “There’s a lot of people here,” he said, fighting to keep his voice neutral. “Yeah, Paul was well known. Everybody thought he’d have a big future ahead of him.” He glanced around. “How long before we can leave?” “You can leave any time you like.” “No, I meant…” He turned his gaze back to Vince, knowing some of his anxiety was starting to leak through. “We.” The look on Vince’s face shifted slightly, to one of concern. “Is there something wrong?” “Yes, but…I can’t talk about it here.” “I was just about to go out and get some air. Come on.” Vince led him to a side exit, clearly avoiding the bulk of the crowd, though he seemed completely casual about it. He certainly looked more casual—and calm—than David felt. He was ready to blurt the words as soon as they stepped out of the building, but Vince kept walking. After a few moments, David realized he was taking them to an adjacent rose garden. The bushes stretched taller than David, affording as much 93

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privacy as he realized they could get in this environment. Under other circumstances, he would have considered the garden someplace special, especially with Vince so close by. Darken the afternoon sky to something midnight, a little music… He shook off the spell. That wasn’t why he was here, and wasn’t appropriate anyway. Taking a deep breath, he looked back one more time to make sure they were alone before speaking. “I went to say hi to the guys from the Moulin Rouge. The ones you found me with, remember?” “Yeah, I remember them. What about it?” “They were talking about the hit. They said that everyone is fingering Jimmy for ordering it.” He closed the distance, unable to stay away. “According to them, Rossellini’s gang is going to come after you.” Vince inclined his head calmly. “The boss is in a position to benefit from Rossellini’s death. Of course people are fingering him.” David waited for something, any kind of reaction other than this unruffled countenance Vince presented. When it didn’t come, his alarm only got worse. “Did you hear me? They want you dead, Vince.” “Most of the people here want me dead. And most of them have good reason to.” “So what are you going to do?” “Watch my back. Keep my ear to the ground for any rumblings. Do what I can to keep everything on an even keel.” Vince folded his arms. “Why did you come running over to tell me about it?” He didn’t understand the question. “Why wouldn’t I? You need to know about threats.” 94

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“Nobody’s gonna rub me out at a funeral. You could have waited until later. Or just mentioned it to Kate.” “If I waited, it could’ve been too late. And if something happened to you…” “What?” Vince prompted. This question made even less sense than the previous one. But finding words to match the emotions roiling inside him was far more difficult than he thought it should be. “I’d never forgive myself.” His hands were shaking, so much he had to shove them into his pockets. “Don’t do that to yourself, David.” Vince reached out and skimmed his fingers over David’s shoulder, like he wanted to grab him but thought better of the gesture at the last second. “I appreciate that you’re keeping an ear out for me, but don’t get yourself more involved than you already are.” Just that simple gesture sent heat radiating down David’s arm. When Vince let his hand fall away, David’s followed, like he’d now been magnetized by Vince’s touch. He traced the line of Vince’s lapel, his throat tight, his flesh tighter, and though there was no contact of skin to skin, he felt closer to Vince than he had in far too long. With that closeness came a sense of unexpected calm. “I’m already involved.” His husky voice cracked, forcing him to swallow and clear it. “I was stupid to think I wasn’t.” “You should go find your cousin before she notices you’re missing.” “Kate’s not why I’m here.” Now that he said it aloud, it seemed so simple. Right. Even more right than the single night they’d spent together. “Tell me you’re going to be careful. Tell me you’ll take this threat seriously. Please, Vince. I need to know you’re 95

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going to be safe.” “I always take these threats seriously. As for being safe…I’m as safe as you can be.” Vince took a step back, putting what felt like miles of space between them. “You don’t need to worry about me.” “But I will. That’s a given.” He wanted Vince back, though the ebb of voices in the background said he shouldn’t risk it. “Jimmy canceled our show tonight, you know.” “He told me that he probably would. Out of respect. You going to go out?” David took a deep breath. “I was kind of hoping to stay in. With you. I never got the chance to play for you the other night.” He smiled, more out of nerves than anything else. “I can guarantee you being safe at least for tonight, then.” “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I can’t guarantee that you…will be safe.” The kind of danger Vince presented was nothing like what Rossellini threatened, and everything David wanted. “I don’t care. Please. Let me do this.” He blurted the last, “I miss you.” Vince regarded him with thoughtful eyes. His silence lasted for so long David was certain he wasn’t going to like the eventual answer. “I miss you, too. I was hoping…I can meet you around eleven. Maybe midnight.” Euphoria, brilliant and hot, burst through him. Nothing had ever sounded so good. He had little doubt that Vince would want something more than companionship, and while a little voice in the back of David’s head whispered that he was courting damnation by encouraging him, an even louder one shouted exultations, glad to be given another chance at the elusive happiness that had been his for one wonderful night. 96

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He smiled, warm and willing, aware that everything he felt was probably there for the world to see. “In my suite, then. I’ll be there. Whenever you want.”

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CHAPTER 8 Vincent knew he had too much on his plate to be distracted by David. Rossellini’s widow, Valerie, was on the warpath. All she had was rumors, accusations, and depending on who in Rossellini’s organization knew of his plans, a motive. But Vince was quite certain that she hadn’t actually seen him, and while she could make his life more difficult, he didn’t think she was in a position to end it. That was simple logic. On the other hand, he didn’t have any reason to believe that Valerie Rossellini was in a logical state of mind. Which made her dangerous and David right to be worried about him. Vincent wasn’t sure what to think about David’s concern. He didn’t doubt it. Not for a minute. But he also didn’t believe that David had taken all that fear and guilt and simply chucked it. He 98

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knew that whatever they had between them could never be more than some fun on the side. One day, he’d have to get married. He was already feeling the pressure, just like the boss. That same pressure was probably what prompted Jimmy to bring Kate out to Las Vegas. David was just a way to relieve some stress and have a good time. He was good in bed and he was mostly willing, which was all Vincent really needed in a partner. So when it ended—and it would end—it wouldn’t be any kind of big deal. That’s what Vincent told himself as he knocked on David’s suite door. That’s what he had to tell himself, because if he really didn’t care, he wouldn’t be so nervous. He would have used his key, gone into the suite, took what he wanted, and been on his way. If he really didn’t care, he wouldn’t be dreading the possibility of David changing his mind. David answered immediately, like he had only been just inside the door, waiting for Vincent to arrive. He wore simple gray slacks and the white button-down shirt he’d had on at the funeral. The difference was, now it hung loose over his waistband, the cuffs rolled back to expose the fine hairs on his arms, the collar open to expose his throat and a hint of the smooth, hard plane of his chest. More than that, he wore a smile, genuinely pleased to see him. “Come in,” he said, holding the door wider. Vincent wanted to grab the other man by the shoulders, back him against the wall, and kiss him until they were both out of breath. He had always preferred men to women, and had spent most of his adolescence and early adulthood lusting after older men who would probably be horrified if they knew what he thought about when he looked at them. He was good at keeping his desires to himself. Good at only acting on those desires when he knew he could get away with it. But David made him forget about 99

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self-control. “Sorry if I kept you waiting for long.” “You showed. That’s what’s important.” He shut the door and came around, leading the way to the piano and the sitting area next to it. Arranged on the large coffee table was an assortment of foods—an antipasto platter, thick sandwiches, a richly frosted chocolate cake. A pitcher of water sat untouched, while next to it was a tumbler of scotch, mostly full though a few droplets clung near the rim to indicate David had at least sipped from it. “I wasn’t sure when you’d get here, or what kind of mood you might be in when you did, so I just ordered a spread to graze on for the night. You’re welcome to help yourself to anything you want.” Vincent didn’t want food. Out of everything he saw in the room, food was probably lowest on his list of needs. A small voice encouraged him to take David at his word and help himself to exactly what he wanted. But he stopped himself. He didn’t want David to think he was just there to fuck, and at the same time, he didn’t know what else he expected from the younger man. He bypassed the food to sit on the piano bench. His fingers itched to move over the keys. He could play a little—nothing like David—but he had too much respect for David to just start pounding away at his piano. “Come here.” David’s smile widened as he approached. When he moved to slide next to him, though, Vincent stopped him by lightly grasping his wrist. He guided David in front of the bench instead, and slid back as far as he could, widening his legs until there was room for David. Then, he turned David around and tugged him down, until his back rested against Vincent’s chest, and his ass nestled firmly between Vincent’s thighs. 100

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David laughed, a low vibration that echoed through both of them. “I’ve never played like this before.” Vincent pressed his mouth to the back of David’s neck and inhaled deeply. He loved the way David’s skin smelled. It was just sweat and soap, clean with no cloying perfumes or the fake stench of flowers. “Good. I don’t want to think of you sitting on anybody else’s lap.” The skin warmed beneath his lips, enticing him to continue. David squirmed a little, rubbing against Vincent’s groin, but he quickly realized it was in reaction to how he was being touched rather than an attempt to flee. “Do you have a request for what you’d like to hear?” He rested his hands on the keys, the long, elegant fingers poised and ready. “‘Stardust’ again?” “No.” He drew his fingers up David’s arm, absorbing the heat of his skin through his thin shirt. “Do you know Eddie Fisher?” “I wouldn’t be able to call myself an entertainer if I couldn’t do some Eddie Fisher.” His hands repositioned, separating as they started to lilt over the keys. When Vincent recognized the first strains of “Count Your Blessings,” he smiled. Of course, this would be a popular song. The movie had made too much money for it not to be. Between Bing and Eddie’s versions, the public never stood a chance. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for an Eddie Fisher fan,” David said. “But then again, you’ve surprised me from the start.” “Really? I think I’m a pretty straightforward guy.” He certainly wasn’t feeling too subtle right then, with his cock pressing against David’s ass, and his breath quickening. “How much distraction can you handle while you play?” “I don’t know.” Though his playing was still calm and even, 101

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his voice sounded breathless. “I can take heckling all right. Are you planning on heckling me?” “Heckling? No, nothing like that.” He caught the top button of David’s shirt between his forefinger and thumb and slipped it free. “But I don’t want you to stop playing.” When he slid his hand beneath the fabric and sought a taut nipple, he felt the flutter of David’s pulse through his smooth skin. David missed a note, but quickly recovered, though his body leaned harder back against Vincent. “This song isn’t that long. What do you want me to do when it’s done?” Vincent rolled David’s nipple between his finger and thumb, tugging on it gently. Every time he did, David shifted his hips, grinding into his lap and making him wish he could just will the pants to disappear. “Your favorite song.” “I have lots of favorites.” His voice wavered, and his chest hitched as he took a deep breath. “I hope you’re planning on staying awhile.” “I was planning to stay for as long as you’d let me.” He trailed his fingers down David’s chest, seeking out the bulge against his zipper. He palmed it, squeezing lightly, before moving back up to his nipples. Normally, he would be too keyed up to bother with anything like this, but at that moment, he was happy to feel the weight, the heat, the texture of David’s body. Eddie Fisher segued seamlessly into Duke Ellington, the melody swinging as lightly as David’s hands. Even touching David like this, Vincent found it hard not to watch how he played. The grace and power in his fingers was unlike anything Vincent was used to. He was accustomed to men using their fists as weapons, blunt instruments, not things of beauty. That’s what David’s were. 102

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They might have been slim, but they were far from delicate, strong in their own right, capable of more than destruction. When he wasn’t watching David’s hands, he watched his face, or his profile, anyway. Half the time, his eyes were closed, lost somewhere in his thoughts, the music, Vincent’s caresses. He thought at first David’s breath quickened when the song did, but when he leaned in and brushed his mouth along the side of David’s neck, he realized that happened when he touched someplace new. Vincent was aware of the sad irony of the situation. David had been right to kick him out of his suite, to tell him they couldn’t have a repeat of their first night together. Though it had been for all the wrong reasons. But even though he knew better, Vincent had no intention of releasing David from his grasp. He alternated between caressing his skin and pawing at his clothes, unbuttoning and unzipping and trying to expose as much of David as possible without disrupting his playing. In a distant way, he understood that he would need to get David in the bedroom soon, but he didn’t want to disrupt the sweet music. “This isn’t really very fair,” David said softly, the song slowing into something classical he didn’t recognize. “You get the music, you get to touch. What do I get?” “You get to play. You get to be touched. That’s not enough?” “I’d like to touch you, too.” He turned his head slightly, to glance at Vincent out of the corner of his eye. His hands never stopped. “That probably makes me selfish.” “Keep your hands on the keys.” Vincent spoke softly, but it was an undeniable command. “I’m going to be selfish for a little while. Meantime, you can stop telling me how selfish you are.” His gaze shifted back to the piano. “Can I tell you how sorry I am about the other night instead?” 103

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“If it’ll make you feel better. But those feelings…the guilt…hasn’t really gone away for you, has it?” David’s response was slow to come. For several minutes, the only sounds in the suite were the music from the piano and the slight rustle of clothing as Vincent continued to stroke David’s smooth skin. “No,” David eventually said. “But I decided that it was worse the way I missed you. And then when Joseph told me today about you being in danger…” Nobody ever made Vincent feel as conflicted as David did. A part of him very much wanted to protect David from the ugliness that characterized his life. He was always in danger of being rubbed out. His family connections and his name wouldn’t always protect him, and he wouldn’t always be the fastest shot in a room. And he knew he couldn’t just fuck David a few more times and walk away like he was nothing more than a stranger. He already meant more than that to Vincent. He didn’t know what to do about David’s sense of guilt. Probably there was nothing he could do. Except hope that it would eventually fade. “Well, I accept your apology.” He licked a path above David’s shirt collar. “Don’t worry about it.” “I can’t when you do that anyway.” He tilted his head, pulling the sinew straight and hard to tease Vincent’s tongue into traveling farther. “So you should probably not stop.” Vincent didn’t lift his head, addicted to the taste and the texture of David’s skin. He pushed his fingers into David’s pants, seeking out the hard line of his erection. As soon as skin touched flesh, David missed a note. Vincent smiled against the back of his neck, but he didn’t release him. He just flexed his fingers, squeezing 104

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tightly as he began to stroke his length. The song abruptly switched, the melody smooth and uncomplicated. David caught his breath, held it, then let it out when Vincent brushed against his balls, a small moan escaping the back of his throat. His feet abandoned the peddles, and his legs spread wider. The pressure of the outside of his thighs against the inside of Vincent’s sent the heat already soaring through Vincent’s flesh even higher, especially when David squirmed, and the promise of his ass rubbed against Vincent’s aching cock. “Okay…I can’t take anymore of this…” Vincent murmured before gripping David’s hip and forcing him to stand. He kept a hold of David so that he wouldn’t move anywhere and unzipped his pants with the other hand. Vincent pushed his down his hips, then tugged at David’s until the material fell to the floor. With both of them free of the confines, he pulled David back down, his hard cock nestled between David’s thighs. David shuddered against him. “How is this easier?” “It feels a lot better. It’ll feel even better when I’m inside you. Gonna fuck you right here. On top of your piano.” The hands that came to rest on the keyboard were shaking, but he picked up the song he’d been playing as if he’d never stopped. When Vincent reached around and fisted David’s shaft, the taut ass resting on his lap noticeably clenched. He wanted to be buried in that heat again, but he knew he couldn’t just bend David over and take him. Not without causing the other man serious pain. “Stand up, but don’t stop playing.” David did as he was told, standing slightly hunched so he could still reach the keys. Vincent pulled his cheeks apart, revealing his tight hole. He wanted to feel that tight muscle stretch around him—his finger, his tongue, his cock. He traced it with the tip of 105

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his finger, fascinated by the way David’s muscles immediately responded to the light pressure. His mouth ran dry with anticipation, and he ducked his head to follow the same path with the tip of his tongue. He moaned when David pushed back against his mouth. To the other man’s credit, the music didn’t stop, though he did change songs again. This one didn’t sound easier than the earlier ones, but it was a familiar classical piece, familiar enough for Vincent to think David must have learned it a long time ago. Maybe the only way he could obey Vincent’s orders was to let his hands do what they knew without engaging his brain. He smiled. He kind of liked the idea that he drove David crazy enough to make his brain stop working. Digging his fingers into the already tense muscle, Vincent forced the buttocks wider, stretching the opening even more. It tightened once before relaxing again, and the willing invitation brought him closer again, dragging the flat of his tongue over the twitching hole, then slipping the tip inside to feel it squeeze around him. Vincent didn’t know if anybody had ever done this to David before, but he doubted it. The thought of being the first person to make him tremble and whimper like this went straight to his cock. The thought of being the only person to do it made his body thrum. He recognized that possessiveness, knew it could be a problem in the future, but embraced it anyway. It made his blood run hot to think of David’s body as belonging to him, to do with as he pleased. He took his time, never setting an even rhythm, sometimes withdrawing completely to bite and lick over the smooth curve of David’s ass. Then, David would shift, trying to move to get him 106

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back, but Vincent tightened his grip and forced the other man back. They were playing this his way tonight, and he wanted to savor each patch of skin. But he went back to slicking up the opening as often as he dared, thrusting his tongue until the constriction around it made his own cock throb. The song ended, but this time, a new one didn’t start. “Please, Vince…” David reached back and covered one of Vincent’s hands, his palm slick with sweat. “Don’t make me wait anymore. I need you to fuck me.” Vincent lifted his head, but he didn’t have any intention of giving in to David. Not quite yet. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand David’s need. He absolutely did. It matched his own. But he wasn’t quite finished yet. He ran his fingers over the tip of David’s cock, slicking them with the thin pre-come he found there. Instead of starting with one finger, he used two, sliding them both into David’s tight passage. David gasped and flinched away, his back arching into an elegant bow. “Fuck…I forgot how full it feels.” “That’s why I’m doing this. Want to make sure you’re ready for my cock.” Twisting his wrist on every thrust relaxed some of the tension in David’s ass, though not much. Vincent smoothed a hand up to the small of his back to massage away the knots there as well, fascinated by the way the muscles tensed and rippled from his touch. “Can I at least touch myself?” David asked. “This is killing me.” “No. Hasn’t anybody ever told you that patience will be rewarded?” “I don’t usually have problems being patient.” The muscle 107

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clenched around Vincent’s hand when he inserted a third finger. David’s next words came out even more breathless. “That must be your bad influence.” “I am a very bad influence,” Vincent acknowledged, slowly pumping his wrist. Memories of their earlier fucking came rushing back every time David clenched around his fingers, and despite admonishing David, he couldn’t keep his own hand off his cock. He stroked himself in time with his other hand, imagining those tight walls squeezing him, fluttering around him, until he felt the last of his self-control strain to the breaking point. Only then did he pull his hand free and stand. When David looked back over his shoulder, the flushed stain to his cheeks and the pupils blown with desire drove Vincent forward, curving an arm around his upper body as he slanted his mouth over the other man’s. Their tongues met, hot, desperate, and their flesh melded together in spite of the shirts still separating them. Vincent devoured his mouth as he bent David forward again, knocking his feet farther apart. With his free hand, he angled his cock downward, dragging it along the crease to come to a rest at the waiting hole. David tensed, then relaxed, moaning into the kiss. It was the only sign Vincent needed to press forward. In so many ways, it was just like before. And in so many ways, it was completely different. Vincent knew what to expect now. Knew exactly how tight David would be, how hot his skin would feel, how he would tremble and moan and move his hips like he wanted more and he wanted to get away. But the deep sense of satisfaction, of possession, and even ownership was new. He filled David with a single, unbroken thrust, pushing his way into the tight channel slowly, but without pause. Broken notes erupted from the 108

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piano as David put his hand down to the keys to catch himself. They both exhaled when he was fully seated. “Please tell me you don’t expect me to play now,” David said. “No…I don’t want you focusing on anything but me.” “Good.” He bent an arm back and grasped Vincent’s hip. His hot fingertips scalded where they dug in and held Vincent close. “I couldn’t anyway. I never can.” Vincent reached between David’s legs to cup his balls, rolling them between his fingers as he tensed and relaxed. His flesh throbbed against Vincent’s, and no matter how he felt afterward, there was no doubt that David was enjoying every second of this. He pushed his hips back as Vincent tried to pull away, and he had no choice but to rock forward again, keeping the strokes shallow and short. Though David was no longer playing, echoes of the songs he’d chosen filled Vincent’s thoughts. He didn’t think he’d ever see anything as sensual as David’s hands moving over the keyboard, or feel anything as exquisite as the hot constriction of his body. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever be able to hear some of that music again without getting hard, just because of this moment. But those were thoughts for another day. Right now, David consumed everything, demanding Vincent’s attention without ever uttering a word. It was in the way he writhed against him, grinding back and squeezing as if to dare Vincent to pull away. It was in the way he gasped for breath, searching for his voice, unable to inhale properly because of how lost he was in Vincent’s thrusts. Most of all, it was in the way he constantly reached for him, like the last thing he wanted was for Vincent to disappear, like he’d hold onto him as long as it took to make him stay. Normally, Vincent’s unsatisfied desires spurred him into fast, 109

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hard thrusts. Like if he didn’t hurry, didn’t claim the body beneath him with all of his strength, then all would be lost. He had felt that vague fear the first time he fucked David, but now the urgency was gone. Replaced by a deeper desire to really appreciate David’s body, his responses, and the way he fit against Vincent. He pumped his hips in a slow rhythm, still cupping David’s balls in one hand, and using his other to explore his taut, twitching muscles. There was a dip above his hipbone that always caught Vincent’s hand when he glided over it. Like the perfect hold, just waiting for him to grab on. Below his left nipple, a small raised line suggested a scar, something to investigate the first time he was able to flip David around. No matter where he touched, more heat than should have been possible emanated from the smooth expanse of skin, growing steadily by the second, too enticing to resist. David cried out when Vincent nipped at his ear, arching again into sudden rigidity. “How much more patient do I need to be?” “Why? You want to come?” “Not come.” His throat worked, once, twice. “I just want you to touch me. Touch my cock.” Vincent knew he could prolong David’s torment until he was ready to beg—and even cry—for his release. But he didn’t need that, and he was sure David didn’t need it, either. Vincent released his sac, repositioning his palm to close around David’s throbbing length. A single stroke had the other man whimpering, his entire frame shuddering from the contact. His muscles constricted around Vincent’s cock, squeezing him so tight he couldn’t stop himself from moaning. Another slow glide of his wrist brought the same reaction, and Vincent didn’t think either of them would withstand much more of that. 110

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The angle of David’s body abruptly shifted, lowering as David leaned forward and gripped the edge of the piano. Vincent didn’t like the absence of his heat, but the new position seemed to spur David to drive backward onto his length with greater intensity, their lower halves slapping together in a sting of skin and sweat. David’s added cries, constant and chaotic, rose in volume, until they stopped altogether, choked off in time with the pulse of his cock, the long, even jerks as hot come spilled over Vincent’s fingers. Vincent continued to pump his wrist, spreading the warm liquid up and down David’s twitching length. David twisted and shook, too sensitive to withstand the constant pressure. His muscles clenched tightly around Vincent’s cock, squeezing and pulling at him until he felt everything shatter inside. He slammed into David’s body, the final thrust hard enough to make his teeth slam together. David shouted from the force as Vincent filled his ass. David sagged quickly, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath. “That was…God, Vince, I’ve never…” Vincent sank down to the bench, pulling David with him. Resting his forehead against David’s shoulder, he took a deep breath and tried to clear the fog around his brain. “Me, neither.” David’s weight melded further into Vincent’s. He turned his head the fraction necessary to nuzzle against the top of Vincent’s head. “Does it always get better like that the second time around?” “I haven’t had too many second time arounds.” “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment, then.” “You should. You’re…one of a kind.” A sigh ruffled the top of his hair. David lifted his head and rested his hand on Vincent’s thigh. After several seconds of silence, he asked softly, “Do you have work you need to do for 111

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Jimmy tonight?” “No. Not tonight. He won’t expect to see me until after breakfast tomorrow.” “So…you can stay for a while?” “I can stay for awhile,” Vincent murmured, more than a little relieved that David had asked at all. “Can I use your shower?” “That depends. Can I join you?” “Yes. In fact, I was planning on it.” But not right away. For the moment, he merely wanted to enjoy David’s warm, salty smell and forget about the pressures of the world outside that room.

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CHAPTER 9 For two weeks, everything was quiet. Rossellini’s widow sent a short, polite card, thanking the boss for his donation of a thousand dollars to the local hospital in Paul’s name. The grapevine of musicians, waitresses, whores, and pimps didn’t have a single word about Shorty Accardo, or his possible tie to Rossellini’s murder. He wasn’t taking any chances though, and with Jimmy’s approval, he kept a very low profile, rarely doing anything more than driving the boss as necessary and keeping an eye on the casino floor. And spending every free moment he could get with David. He was only grateful that the boss was still so enamored with David’s cousin—he barely had any time to pay attention to what, and who, Vincent was doing. Vincent was almost ready to believe that the whole Rossellini 113

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mess would fade to the background permanently. Which was why he felt a niggling combination of curiosity, surprise, and dread when the boss called Vincent to his office in a somber, low voice. The low voice that always meant somebody, somewhere had fucked shit up good. Vincent didn’t bother to ask for clarification, but he did have feel a flash of concern—Hope it’s not the widow. Jimmy usually conducted business in his suite, preferring the relative privacy and safety for all of his transactions and socializing. He was very much a homebody, which might explain his sudden need to fix somebody in his home. That day, though, he was in his office on the ground floor, his blinds shut against the harsh desert sun, and the fans overhead clicking in a regular rhythm as they tried to beat back the waves of heat. There was already a gleam on Jimmy’s forehead, and Vincent felt a tickle of moisture on the back of his neck. “Boss,” he greeted, standing in front of Jimmy’s desk. “Sit down.” No please. As Vincent took the seat, his misgivings grew. “I’m not going to beat around the bush,” Jimmy continued on. “We’ve been friends too long for that. But Chicago’s been calling me every day for the past week. Checking up on things, mostly. Until today.” “What’s going on?” “Things are starting to get a little hot under the collar for them. This business with Rossellini’s just the tip of the iceberg.” Jimmy sighed and leaned back in his chair. “They want you to lay low until it blows over.” “Why do they want me to lay low? Weren’t you given the same order?” “No, I’ll be out in plain sight, just not here. Me and Kate are 114

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moving to LA. It’s about time she got a shot at Hollywood.” “Look, Rossellini was a thug. He’s got a two-bit operation here that we could smash if we wanted to. What’s Chicago afraid of?” “It’s not just Rossellini. The feds are starting to get a little too interested in the Thunderbird. We need to get out before things get too hot to get out clean.” Vincent certainly didn’t want to be there when the G-men finally figured out how to get into the casino. He didn’t have any desire to do a stint at college. He wasn’t high enough in the organization to get the special perks that made sitting behind bars bearable. “So I’m being demoted? I guess they don’t want me to go to Hollywood with you.” “They think it’ll be better to split us up for now. You can always come out to Hollywood later. Don’t think of it as a demotion. Think of it as a…vacation.” He smiled. “You’ve certainly earned one.” “When do they want us to clear out?” “I’m leaving after Kate’s show on Saturday. You can go any time before then. Your choice.” “They’re not shutting down the Thunderbird, though. Who have they got to replace you? The people we want to avoid are going to be the ones who notice our departure.” “The Outfit’s temporarily putting things back into the hands of the original owners. They’re completely clean. The feds won’t be able to find a thing, then, and when the heat’s died down, we’ll be able to come back.” “I guess this is it, then.” Vincent wanted to find some point to argue, but there was nothing he could argue about. This wasn’t his casino, and this wasn’t his decision. Besides, what fool would argue with taking six months or a year off? 115

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A fool who was half-obsessed with a man who’d be moving to Hollywood in about a week. Vincent already knew there was no chance David would be staying in Vegas while his cousin—the headliner of his act—moved on to Hollywood. “I’ll be staying until Saturday night, too. I have some things I need to get in order.” Nodding, Jimmy opened the top drawer on his desk and withdrew a large, fat envelope. “This isn’t from the Outfit,” he said, sliding it across the surface. “This is from me. Because I could never have asked for a better man. Or friend.” Vincent took a deep breath. It was common sense to keep a certain distance between himself and the job, himself and his boss. But his months in Vegas had been different from his assignments in Chicago, and New York, and Miami. He went where he was needed, and he was always happy to do so, but this was different. Now he was being told he wasn’t needed. Now he was being told he needed to give up the life he had, his friends, and what he understood as his purpose. “Thank you. And thanks for telling me yourself.” Now that he’d gotten the news off his chest, Jimmy noticeably relaxed. “Where do you think you might go?” Vincent shrugged. “I’ve been hearing a lot about those European vacations. You know, visit the old country, see all the sights, that sort of thing.” Europe seemed like it would be far enough away. It would certainly cut down on the temptation to make surprise appearances in LA. “Just as long as I know where to find you. Kate’ll kill me if I don’t invite you to the wedding when it happens. Hell, I’m not so sure David wouldn’t, either.” “I’ll be back for the wedding.” Once he spoke the words, they 116

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were an ironclad oath. One he hoped he didn’t regret making. “Even if it’s just for the chance to dance with the bride.” Jimmy toyed with a pen. “I’m planning on letting Kate know tonight in private, so you can have the rest of the night off after the show. If you could just not say anything before then…” It was a double-edged sword. He appreciated the additional time off, and he knew David would appreciate it if Vincent slipped into his suite and his bed. But this didn’t feel like information Vincent would want to keep from the other man. And that was the only way to guarantee Kate didn’t find out before the boss could speak to her. “Of course. Is there anything else?” “No, that’s it. Thanks, Shorty. For everything.” Vincent stood and slipped the envelope of money into his jacket pocket. There’d be time later for a more proper farewell. In the meantime, he’d have to figure out how to handle what promised to be a much more difficult parting. How had David managed to get so far under his skin? And how was he going to free himself of that itch? *

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Kate’s announcement that she and Jimmy would be having a quiet night in didn’t take David by surprise, but it did fill him with a discernible glee he had difficulty restraining in her presence. Kate’s preoccupation meant Vince had the entire night free. That meant he’d be spending it with David. They’d spent as many evenings together since the Rossellini funeral as they could. Not enough, in David’s opinion. The guilt had returned after Vincent had left that amazing 117

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night, but David had fallen asleep so content and exhausted he’d been able to ignore it. It got easier to ignore each time, though it never completely disappeared. When Vincent wasn’t around to remind him of how fantastic they were together, he buried himself in rehearsals. That helped. But Vincent’s presence helped even more. He made everything better. David skipped cleaning up in his dressing room to head straight to his suite. Sometimes, Vince beat him there, and he’d walk in to find him sitting, waiting, looking absolutely irresistible. The sitting and waiting never lasted, though the irresistibility was a permanent condition. Tonight, the suite was dark. Without breaking stride, David headed straight for the shower, leaving a trail of clothing behind him. If Vince found it, well, there was no bad in that at all. David had just finished rinsing his hair when he heard a soft knock on the door. His heart immediately leapt, and it was difficult to keep his voice even when he called for Vince to come in. Cool air rushed into the bathroom as Vince opened the door, but instead of stepping into the steam, he said, “We need to talk. I’ll be out here when you’re finished.” The door was shut again before David could reply, leaving him staring into the empty bathroom. What was that about? Vince, even as taciturn as he could sometimes be, hadn’t been that distant since the funeral. What could have happened? He grabbed a towel and twisted the water off at the same time. The ends were damp where they dragged over the wet floor, but David ignored them as he wrapped it around his waist. When he emerged from the bathroom, goose bumps erupted along his shoulders and arms from the difference in temperature. The heat 118

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came rushing back as soon as his gaze fell on Vince. “What’s going on? Did something happen?” “There’s been a…change up in the organization. We’ve got to get out of Vegas for awhile. The boss plans on taking Kate to California.” David’s brows shot up. “We’re moving to California? Kate didn’t say a word.” “The boss is telling her about it right now. And I’m not moving to California. Chicago’s decided it’s best if we all lay low for awhile. That means I get to go on vacation. Too much heat right now, and I guess they’ve got bigger plans cooking.” “What do you mean, you’re not going?” He sat down on the edge of the coffee table, unable to stop gaping. “You and Jimmy are a team.” “Yeah, and everybody knows it. It’s for my own safety. You know my Uncle Joe. He looks out for his own.” His own safety. David felt more than a little sick. “But what about Jimmy? He needs you.” I need you. But he didn’t dare say that out loud. “In Hollywood? No, he’ll be fine. He’ll get himself a nice new mansion to go along with his new wife, and he probably won’t attract any more attention than any other starlet’s husband.” Any other time, the news about Kate’s upcoming marriage would’ve been enough to distract him, but it was nothing compared to the prospect of life in California without Vince. “A vacation means you’ll only be gone for a few weeks, though, right?” “No. It means I’m going to lay low somewhere until they call me and tell me they need me. Here, or Chicago, or New York. I’m going to catch a flight out on Sunday morning.” 119

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Sunday was only five days away. Five days before Vince left for good. Five days until David’s life went back to the way it had been before, when all he had was his music and the knowledge that something deep down had to be seriously wrong with him. Vince had never thought something was wrong with him. Vince had never made him feel like a freak. Vince had made him feel like anything was possible. Apparently, that included losing him. Though losing him implied David had even had him to start with. “Where will you go?” It was the only question he could muster. His brain was still tripping over the new information. “I haven’t decided yet. Europe seems like a good idea for now. Visit the old country and pay my respects.” Vince’s mouth softened into a wry smile. “I guess you probably didn’t expect to be moving on from Vegas so soon.” “No, it feels like I only just got here.” “There’s nobody saying that you have to leave. I’m sure you could get a regular gig in town.” “Maybe.” Though the prospect of being completely alone in town was even less appealing than California without Vince. At least in LA, he wouldn’t have a reminder of the man around every corner. “I guess Europe’s probably pretty safe for you. That’s a plus.” He smiled, though he didn’t know how successful it was. “I’ll still worry about you, though.” “Don’t be. There’s not a real threat hanging over our head. But…it’s like this. The boys in Chicago, they want to control Vegas. They’re laying the groundwork now, but there’s some bumps here and there. Including the G-men. Now when they come sniffing around, we’ll be out of reach. Then when they need us again, we’ll be called home.” 120

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“But we don’t know when that will be.” “No. Could be a month. Could be a few years. You know…I’m not exactly happy about this news. Actually, I’m not happy about it at all.” “Neither am I.” The distance between them was too great. With the countdown already started, David didn’t want to waste a single second. He stood and sat next to Vince instead, resting his hand on Vince’s thigh. “You’ve been the best part of Vegas. By far.” “I’ve basically been fired. I need to take care of some personal business, but we can spend most of the rest of the week together.” “I’d like that.” He leaned into Vince’s side, until their mouths were almost touching. “And I’m going to assume that’s starting tonight.” Vince cupped the side of David’s head, his fingers brushing against the hair just above David’s ear. “It’s starting right now.” He felt Vince’s tongue first, the tip barely brushing against his bottom lip. David automatically parted his mouth to welcome more of the caress, sighing as their tongues touched. Vince deepened the kiss gradually, pulling a stronger and stronger reaction from David with each flutter of his tongue. Though Vince was most definitely a very thorough lover, gentle was not a word David freely associated with him. Their couplings had ranged from frenzied to determined, and every flavor in between. Vince had proven his sensuality on more than one occasion, too, like the night he’d fucked David against the piano. Then, he’d taken his time exploring, driving David to the edge repeatedly before finally letting him go. This was different. And the potential reasons why were enough to convince David to stop thinking and just enjoy. The chill in the room dissipated as Vince eased David back 121

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onto the cushions, hand still firmly in place, kisses ongoing. The weight of his body shielded David from discomfort, but David wanted more of it, slipping his arms around Vince’s back to better embrace him. He let his hands roam, reveling in the strong muscles playing against his palms. Even better was the press of his lower half against David’s burgeoning erection, the towel flimsy protection from anything more. By the time Vince pulled away from the kiss, David felt lighter than air. He might have been floating but for Vince’s solid body holding him to the bed. Vince turned his head and his lips caught a drop of water rolling down David’s jaw. He caught another and another and another, until he was kissing and licking David’s neck. He would never say that Vince liked to nuzzle, but he wasn’t sure there was another word for what the man was doing. David completely lost track of that thought when Vince moved down from his throat and found one flat nipple. The second his tongue brushed against the darker skin, his flesh pulled into a peak and a bolt of pleasure shot down his spine. He arched, and Vince responded by pulling more of the skin between his teeth. His hand slid away from the power of Vince’s shoulders to cup the back of his head. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to hold Vince in place, if only to keep the electricity shooting through his veins, but he didn’t think he could take it if Vince moved farther down. His flesh needed time to absorb the sensations, the fire stoking slowly and surely beneath his skin. Vince seemed perfectly content to stay where he was, nipping at the hard tip often enough to keep the sparks constant. At least, until he moved to the other nipple. David didn’t close his eyes and he didn’t look away. He wanted to remember every moment, every caress, every detail of Vince’s 122

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face. He wanted to remember the way his lips looked when they closed around David’s hard nipple, and the way his eyelashes fanned across his cheeks, and the intoxicating heat in his brown eyes when he looked up to study David’s face. Vince murmured something in Italian. Something David couldn’t pick out, despite his years of exposure to the language, and continued his path down David’s body, fingers curling around the towel still clinging to his hips. He lifted away from the couch to free the terry for Vince’s questing hands. The couch was cool against his bare ass when he rested it again, but when he realized where Vince was going with this, he flattened his palm against the man’s shoulder and pushed just enough to get his attention. “Let me strip you before you make it so I can’t even feel my fingers,” he asked, when those warm eyes met his. “Skin to skin. That’s how I want you.” Vince didn’t look like he wanted to stop what he was doing, but he pushed himself up to his knees and then pulled David into a seated position. He was already losing some feeling in his hands and fingers. His entire body tingled with anticipation, and it took all of his concentration to unbutton Vince’s shirt, and then his pants. Working together, they managed to get Vince stripped, but before David had the chance to touch the newly exposed skin, Vince pushed him back to the couch, his mouth dropping to kiss the line of David’s hip. Each caress seared, and David fought not to buck up against Vince’s hard body. He wanted the friction, the heat, but he didn’t want to turn this into something frantic and rushed. Then it would be over, and they’d be all that much closer to their eventual separation. If it took everything he had, he would savor every 123

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second he got with Vince, from now until Sunday morning, storing them away to pull out and relive when they were on opposite sides of the globe. He might find someone else in California, and he had no doubts Vince would find someone in Europe, but it wouldn’t be this, it wouldn’t be them, and that, more than anything else, seemed vital for David to hold onto. Vince gripped David’s hips, forcing him flat against the couch as he sought out the tip of David’s erect cock with his tongue. He licked the slit, tasting the pre-come that was already leaking freely from him. His grip tightened, and he moved his head from side to side, smearing the liquid across his lips and teasing David’s toosensitive flesh. His cheeks and chin were covered in stubble, and he let the short hairs catch against the smooth skin, creating a sharp contrast with his soft, pliable mouth. He might not be able to move his hips, but one of his legs was still free. Lifting his foot, he braced it against the coffee table, spreading himself wider for Vince to explore. Cool air tickled over his crack, and he clenched, already hungry for the thick push of Vince’s cock into his ass, the burn and the stretch and that distinct feeling of being filled that he’d come to love over the past couple weeks. Sometimes, he found it hard to believe he’d been so nervous in the beginning. Now, the only thing that gave him more satisfaction than Vince pounding into his hole was his music. And even that was starting to lose ground. His fingers trailed constantly over Vince’s face, touching the hollows of his cheeks, the sharp line of his jaw. When Vince finally sucked the tip past his lips—just the tip, just enough to drive David absolutely crazy—David sought out the corners of his sensual mouth, tickling lightly as he watched the lips seal around his length. 124

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Vince looked up, his eyes meeting David’s, as his mouth sank lower and lower. Vince didn’t often suck David off. He was usually more interested in getting his cock buried in David’s ass. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t good at it. He completely consumed David’s cock, his large mouth surrounding every inch of him until the head pressed through Vince’s throat. His fingers relaxed where they held David, and he began to move his thumbs in small, almost soothing circles. The simple gestures encouraged David to move, but he held back, fearful of breaking the spell that seemed to have settled between them. He watched, transfixed, as Vince slid back up the length, his shaft glistening until it was engulfed again. Did Vince get the same thrill at watching when it was David’s lips wrapped around Vince’s cock? For some reason, he would bet yes. Vince dragged his right hand down David’s thigh to cup his balls, his middle finger extending to press against David’s hole. He circled the tight entrance, tracing it with his fingernail, until he swallowed David’s cock again. As soon as the crown pressed against the back of Vince’s throat, he felt one long finger slide into his channel. David knew what would come next, and tried to brace himself, but he couldn’t do anything to prepare for the shock of pleasure as Vince pressed his finger against that most sensitive spot. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, shivering from the waves rippling through his body. Blindly, his hands sought the back of Vince’s head, not to push him down but instead for leverage since the world always tilted on its axis when he touched David like this. “Don’t stop…” His breathless pleas resonated in his ears, though he didn’t actually expect Vince to pay too much attention 125

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to them. Vince had a knack for pushing David that little bit further than he always thought he could handle. The one thing David had learned was how much he loved that. The pressure inside of him increased until he thought something would break—and then it felt like something did. Vince’s cheeks hollowed as he increased the suction, and he swallowed the strings of come David was shooting down his throat. The pleasure was intense but he hadn’t actually orgasmed yet, but there was no denying what was happening. Especially since Vince was making small sounds of delight. Then the pressure eased, Vince’s finger sliding free of his body. “What…” He tried to sit up, but slipped on his elbow, unable to get his body to obey. Vince rested a firm hand against his stomach and pushed him back down, leaving David spinning from the sensation overload. “You never cease to amaze me,” he managed to get out. Vince released David’s cock, his tongue darting out to catch a thin string of come still caught on David’s slit. “There’s more we could do together. I just wish…” His heart thudded. “You wish what?” “I wish I didn’t have to go,” Vincent murmured, before swallowing David’s length again. I wish you didn’t have to go, too. But saying the words out loud was impossible with how hard Vince sucked him now, like he wanted to drain the last bit of come possible. The best he could do was touch him again, and hope that Vince got the hint. Vince wrapped his hand around the base of David’s cock, moving it in tandem with his lips. His pace quickened with each stroke, steadily building the pressure and heat beneath his skin. Vince had been gentle, even deliberate, before, but now David was 126

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seeing more of the lover he had grown to appreciate over the past two weeks. The hunger and need and power that always seemed to drive their fucking. There was no way to withstand it. David fisted his hands at his side, trying not to let the pleasure overtake him, trying to prolong the act as long as physically possible. But Vince was too good at this, and David’s need too great, to withstand such blissful torture for long. He arched away from the couch with a shout, driving his cock deep into Vince’s throat as he erupted yet again. More constriction only milked his orgasm longer, and the answering vibrations as Vince groaned in satisfaction sent a fresh cascade of tremors through David’s body. He collapsed, boneless and whimpering. His feeble attempts to pull Vince up failed, and he could only thrash against the continued onslaught as the man sucked away every last drop. Vince lapped at him, cleaning his skin completely before crawling up David’s body. David couldn’t be sure, due to the buzzing in his ears, but he thought he heard more murmured Italian before Vince claimed his mouth in a slow kiss. The contrast to the earlier frenzy made his head spin in all new directions. How was he going to live the rest of his life without this?

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CHAPTER 10 With each remaining show, David’s reluctance to get onstage grew. Another set down meant he was that much closer to Saturday night, to his very last performance in Las Vegas and the moment when he’d have to say good-bye to Vince for good. Neither one of them mentioned it. Even though they spent every free minute together. David wasn’t sure what Vince’s reasoning was, but he didn’t want the reminder of how little time they actually had remaining. He slept in Saturday morning, reluctant to recognize the day. Just after noon, his phone started ringing. He looked at it once, then pulled the blankets over his head. It wasn’t Vince. He knew that for a fact. Vince had already told him he wouldn’t be able to see him until after the show, something to do with last minute 128

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arrangements. If Vince said something, he meant it. Which meant there was absolutely no reason for him to answer anyone who insisted on spoiling his day even more by dragging his ass out of bed. Until they started pounding on his door, five minutes later. Grabbing his robe, he ignored the open suitcase, still chastising him for not having packed yet, and marched for the door. “What?” he snapped when he yanked it open. Kate frowned. “What’s gotten into you?” He ran a weary hand over his face and stepped out of her way. “Sorry, I’m just tired. Packing and all.” “I won’t be long. I just…I wanted to show you this.” Kate held up her hand, allowing the giant diamond on her finger catch the light. Closing the door behind her, David caught her wrist and stepped closer to get a better look. He didn’t know much about jewelry, but it didn’t take a genius to know the ring must have set Jimmy back a pretty penny. More importantly, though, it wasn’t just a simple gift, not nestled firmly on the ring finger of her left hand. He smiled up at her, unable to keep his sour mood in the light of her excitement. “Does this mean I can finally stop lying to your mom about chaperoning you everywhere?” Kate beamed at him, her smile far brighter than any diamond. “That’s exactly what it means. I haven’t called her yet. Jimmy says we can get married as soon as we get to California, but I told him I want the whole family to be there.” “The whole family?” He brightened. “Jimmy’s family, too, then, right?” “We haven’t exactly set the guest list yet. Why?” 129

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His mouth opened to mention how glad he was to get another chance to see Vince, only to shut again when he realized what that would sound like. Neither Kate nor Jimmy knew of their relationship. That was the way they both wanted it. He wouldn’t betray Vince’s trust, even if he was never going to see him again after tonight. “I just know Vince isn’t happy about not being able to come to California with us, that’s all. He’ll be glad for a good reason for a visit.” Kate frowned. “Jimmy already told me that Shorty isn’t going to be around for the wedding. I asked him if Shorty would be his best man and he said something about him being too busy.” “Oh.” He wandered into the sitting area, flopping onto the couch. “I guess I thought…it’s a shame.” She joined him on the couch, sitting close enough to touch his arm. “Are you okay? Is it the move? I know I said this would be a steady gig, but you know that we’re going to be fine in Hollywood. Even if I don’t play the clubs anymore, Jimmy said he could get you gigs anywhere. Clubs, private parties, movies, whatever you like.” “I know. And I appreciate it. I do. I was just really happy here.” He stared up at the ceiling. “I’m going to miss it.” “We weren’t here for very long. Besides, in Hollywood you can have an actual house, and not some crappy little room. Can you imagine, David? A whole house to yourself where you can do anything you please?” That was certainly a bonus, and for a moment, David let himself get lost in the fantasy. It wouldn’t be a big house, just big enough for him and his piano. He could have guests whenever he wanted, without having to worry about being seen. There might 130

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even be a little backyard, with a pool. Didn’t everybody in California have a pool? But when he considered who his guests might be, the only face he could conjure was Vince’s. His solemn dark eyes. The rare smile. The one guest he was probably guaranteed never to have. “I don’t need a big house. It’s just me.” He elbowed her side, more playfully than he felt. “You’re going to be the one with all the parties. At least until the babies start coming.” “You know, I never even thought that I wanted babies. But with Jimmy…it’s different. Don’t you think he’d be a great dad? But that won’t be for awhile, anyway. Not until I’ve done a few pictures.” She flung her arms around David’s neck and pulled him into a tight hug. “Everything’s working out just like I hoped it would. Why aren’t you more excited?” He returned her embrace with enthusiasm he didn’t feel. For Kate, he’d pretend for as long as it took. This was her moment, after all. “I’m excited for you. You deserve every second of happiness you get.” “You deserve to be happy, too, David.” “As long as I have someplace to play, I’ll be happy.” Which was at least partially true. Too bad the other part wasn’t even going to be on the same continent after tonight. Could he really say good-bye? Did he actually have a choice? *

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Though he didn’t usually pay too much attention to the audience during the shows, tonight, David couldn’t keep from 131

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scanning the crowd, wondering which shadowed face was Vince’s, wishing he wasn’t blinded by the lights. No more Thunderbird after this. No more Vegas. He was moving on, taking a giant leap into an unknown, and this time, he wasn’t even going to have Kate as a backup. It would have been nice to be able to read Vince’s take on the matter. Without spotting him during the last set, though, David had to settle for finding out during the time they said good-bye. He was forced to linger after they took their final bows, accepting the well wishes from those who pushed their way backstage. Good thing for him Kate glowed with happiness. Nobody was interested in the slightly dour piano player hanging in the background. All anyone wanted was to congratulate the brideto-be and kiss her cheek. Half an hour later, he could finally slip away. As soon as he was clear, he broke into a run for the elevator. Vince’s flight was obscenely early. He wouldn’t stick around the casino for very long that night. David couldn’t risk losing the small window he had. On the third floor, he ignored his door and went straight to Vince’s. His knock reverberated through his hand and up his wrist, bringing fresh heat to his neck and ears from how loud it seemed. He glanced up and down the hallway more than once in fear of being seen before Vince answered. This was too important for others to witness. Every second stretched on endlessly. He had time to swallow several times to wet his dry throat, but it didn’t help. He rubbed his hands on his thighs to dry them, wondering if he looked as clammy as he felt. He knew that the smile that lit his face as soon as the door opened was one of pure relief. “David. I was just going to see if you were upstairs yet.” 132

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One glance past Vince’s shoulder revealed the suitcases lined up neatly near the wall. David tore his eyes away and concentrated instead on the man in front of him. This was the only time he had left. He couldn’t waste a moment of it. “Then I’m glad I got here first. Can I come in?” “Yeah.” He stepped back, allowing David to enter the room, then closed the door behind him. “Are you packed?” “Yes, though it wasn’t easy.” He’d spent the afternoon after Kate’s departure doing it. “Kate wanted to talk about California and wedding stuff. I hated having to kick her out, but I never would’ve had it done otherwise.” “I guess you can’t really blame her for being excited. Everything’s going the way she hoped it would, I’m sure.” David nodded. “It didn’t go exactly the way I thought it would, though. Coming to Vegas, I mean.” “Yeah, I know what you mean. But you’ll have a great time in California. Enough people from Chicago are there that you’ll probably never even get homesick.” The distance between them was killing him. He knew why Vince was doing it. To make the good-byes easier. Vince had made it all too clear he wished he didn’t have to go, but the one thing David wasn’t sure on was how much he factored into that. There was only one way to find out. “I’m not going to California.” Vince frowned. “Where are you going?” “That depends.” “On what?” “On whether you’d mind an unemployed piano player tagging along while you gallivant through Europe.” Vince blinked at the declaration. “You want to come with me 133

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instead of going to Hollywood. David…you can’t do that.” He squelched the panic that automatically arose at Vince’s refusal. If he didn’t say everything on his mind, he would always regret it. “Why? If you think it’s because I’m giving something up, don’t. I can play anywhere. I don’t need California for that.” He took a half-step closer, grateful that Vince didn’t immediately back away. “What I do need is for you to know what you mean to me. What you’ve done for me. I want the chance to be able to show you that, but I can’t do it if we’re not in the same place.” “A lot of doors are going to open for Kate,” Vince pointed out. “You don’t want to be there for that?” “I want to be there for you. Kate said to me today that I deserve to be happy, and I finally figured out that when I’m happiest, you’re always there. I don’t even need my music then. It’s just…it’s not as important as you. It doesn’t talk to me, or tell me that I’ve got something special. It’s not the first thing I think of when I wake up anymore. It can’t look at me the way you do and make me want to forget everything I’ve ever been afraid of. Damn it, Vince, I don’t know how you can expect me to walk away and pretend the last few weeks were just for laughs. Because they weren’t for me.” “They weren’t for me, either.” Vince rubbed the back of his neck, and glanced away. David couldn’t be sure, but it was almost like Vince was nervous. “I…I was going to invite you. I was thinking about it. But then I realized how much is still out there for you, and I thought it would be too…selfish.” Everything inside David jumped at the confession. Another step put him in touching distance, and he dared to reach for Vince’s hip. “Then I’ll be the selfish one. You don’t have to invite me. You just have to tell me you want me there.” 134

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“I want you.” Vince wrapped his arm around him. “I want you with me. I don’t think I’m ever going to find anybody like you, and I don’t want to try.” All the anxiety he’d harbored throughout the show, the fear that Vince would reject him once he laid everything on the line, vanished with the hard press of his long body against David’s. David swallowed again, though now it wasn’t due to his dry throat, and tilted his head up to meet Vince’s gaze. “You don’t have to,” he murmured, then stretched to brush a kiss over his warm lips. “You’ve got me as long as you want me.” “You know it’s not going to be easy, right? I’m getting a little break now, but they’re going to call me again. And when they do…” “I know. It’s who you are. And I’ll deal with it when the time comes, because honestly, the alternative isn’t worth it.” Vince pulled him closer and tilted his head. As soon as their lips touched, David sighed with relief. The kiss took David’s breath as Vince’s mouth forced him to be completely open, completely vulnerable. He had fully prepared himself for the final kiss good-bye, but this was a welcoming caress. One that did more than just hint at their future together—it promised a lifetime.

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JAMIE CRAIG

Jamie Craig is the collaborative efforts of Pepper Espinoza and Vivien Dean. Both successful authors on their own, they began working together in early 2006. Pepper lives with her husband and cats in Utah, where she attends graduate school, and Vivien resides in northern California with her husband and two children.

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Don’t miss Wearing Death by Jamie Craig, available at AmberAllure.com! When veterinarian Jeremy Reed hears a thump one night on his front step, he expects to find an abandoned animal. What he gets is battered and broken cop Brendan Wheeler. Kidnapped from his apartment five days earlier by an unknown man, Brendan now sports a vivid tattoo across his back depicting a young woman’s death, a woman nobody knows. Until the next morning when Jeremy discovers her dead body. Brendan wants to find the killer. Jeremy wants Brendan to survive. And someone wants both of them to pay…

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