Chapter 2
two
EDEN
“Get up,” a rough voice rasps in my ear, making its way through my broken dreams. It’s only when I feel the cold concrete pressing into my leg that I realize somebody’s pushing me, trying to wake me up.
And that’s when I remember where I am.
In a jail cell. In Las Vegas.
I sit bolt upright, the memories of yesterday rushing through me.
The bench on the other side of the tiny cell is empty, which probably means Miss Sequins was released at some point while I was asleep. She said she slashed her boyfriend’s tires. I never asked her why she wore such a pretty dress to do it and now I’m kind of regretting that.
As soon as I manage to slide my feet into my unlaced sneakers, I’m marched into the corridor that feels even more oppressive than it did when I first arrived.
We walk past the next cell, where somebody is wailing inconsolably. It actually makes my heart hurt. Halfway down the drab hallway the smell of vomit is so noxious it makes me gag as it wafts from another cell.
“I hate this shift,” the officer mutters, unlocking the door and pushing me into an empty room. “Wait here, I’ll get your lawyer.”
I frown. They told me the court-appointed lawyer wouldn’t get here until morning. And yes, technically it is morning, but only three a.m., according to the clock on the wall of what I think is an interview room.
I sit there silently for five minutes before the door swings open, and I turn to greet the unlucky public defender, because lawyer or no lawyer, nobody deserves to have to deal with my mess at this godforsaken time of night.
But instead of an exhausted lawyer in a crumpled suit and yesterday’s breath, I get slapped in the face with the last person I expect to see.
“West?” I manage to squeak.
Oh. My. God. I’m absolutely a dead woman walking. I should just plead guilty to whatever charges they throw at me and let myself rot in a cell for the rest of my life. Because it’ll be a walk in the park compared to what awaits me outside.
Because of course the six-feet-two-inches of infuriating perfection with a suit that costs more than I’ll ever earn in a year is West Abbott. My oldest brother’s best friend.
He’s all charm and champagne and ethically questionable deals wrapped in a Tom Ford suit, and I’m… not.
“What are you doing here?” I ask with an unnaturally high voice, jumping out of my seat like I’m about to escape. “Did Hudson send you? Oh God, does he know? He’s not here, is he?”
The thought of my big brother knowing I’m in jail makes me want to hurl.
“Please sit down.” West’s stupidly square jaw twitches as he talks. And because it’s so unusual for him to sound anything other than laid back, I actually do as I’m told.
But he doesn’t take the seat on the other side of the table from me. Instead, he starts to pace the room. And for the next minute he says nothing.
Finally, he comes to a stop and looks at me. “What the hell were you thinking?” he asks, his voice low and sharp. “Do you have any idea what a mess this is?” Underneath the annoyance I can hear the worry. Which of course makes me want to sass him even more.
“I didn’t plan on this,” I say, lifting my chin, because I already have four brothers. I don’t need another.
He arches one perfect brow. “You threw paint at a casino in the middle of the Strip.”
I don’t bother telling him it wasn’t me. I’m pretty sure he won’t believe me anyway.
“It was just a little bit of paint,” I say instead. “And it was from Pottery Barn. Only the best.”
His lips twitch, but he doesn’t reply. I’ll take it.
He pulls out the chair from beneath the formica table, sitting down in it, his long legs stretching against the wool of his suit. Seriously, who wears a three-piece suit at three a.m.?
“Why are you in Vegas?” he asks. “You’re supposed to be in Peru.”
“I’m heading home. Autumn asked me to visit.” My stomach twists even more. I’m already the family mess up and now I might be going home with a charge against me. Why is it that I always let them down?
“You’re about two thousand miles in the wrong direction,” West murmurs.
“Yeah, well I got a ride here from the Mexican border. I was planning on catching a Greyhound or two.” I clear my throat. “But then I heard the International Fur Convention was here.”
“And you couldn’t resist, could you?” he asks. “Little Eden. Champion of the poor and weak.”
“That’s almost a compliment coming from the man who cleans Hollywood’s cesspits,” I reply.
His lips curl into another almost smile. His eyes flick down, taking in my bare legs, tank top, shorts, and then quickly back up like he’s punishing himself for looking.
“What are you doing in Vegas?” I ask him. “Not that I’m not grateful. Did Hudson call you and ask you to come?” I make a mental note to kill Autumn for telling our brother. She promised not to say anything when I used my one telephone call on her.
“No,” he says, his tone clipped. He crosses his arms over his stupidly broad chest. “I was in L.A., working. Autumn called me and asked for my help.” His eyes lock on mine. I feel a weird pulse in my thighs. “So here I am. And your brother has no idea you’re even in Vegas, let alone in jail.”
I let out a relieved sigh. “You didn’t need to rush. I could have waited until morning.” And L.A. isn’t exactly a short distance from here.
“In a cell in Vegas?” He shakes his head, his gaze holding mine. “I don’t think so.” There’s a twitch in his jaw. It’s almost fascinating with its rhythm. I moisten my dry lips with my tongue and for a second, his eyes dip to my mouth.
“Come on,” he says, clearing his throat. “Let’s go.”
“Back to the cell?” I ask him.
“No. We’re leaving. I got you released.”
I blink. “I’m sorry?”
“They dropped the charges. You won’t have a record. You’re free to go.” He checks his expensive watch like he’s bored.
For just a stupid flicker of a second, I feel like I can breathe again. Gratitude rushes through me. Followed by suspicion, because it shouldn’t be this easy.
Yes, I’m innocent, but I sure as hell look guilty.
“Wait… what? There are no charges?” My voice rises. “How did you manage that?”
“You don’t want to know.” He knocks on the door and it’s opened from the other side. I stand quickly, almost running after him.
“Of course I want to know,” I hit back at him. “But I also know you won’t tell me.”
He sighs, like I’ve completely exhausted him. And as we step into the corridor he grabs my arm, as though he thinks I’m a flight risk. His fingers are hot against my skin, his grip strong. It feels weirdly like he owns me.
The door at the end of the booking area unlocks and we step through, into the almost silent lobby.
My personal effects are already waiting in a clear plastic bag on the desk – such as they are.
My backpack, shoe laces, and an old battered iPhone that is always losing power.
And – oh joy – my menstrual cup. Wonderful.
West glances over my shoulder as I discreetly shove it into my bag.
“Want me to explain how it works?” I deadpan, already walking toward the door to hide the flush across my face. I’m not sure, but I think I hear him chuckle.
“Wait!” I say, remembering Miss Sequins. “There was a girl in here. What happened to her?”
West looks at me like he wants to kill me.
“Seriously, she was so upset. She slashed her fiance’s tires.” And I really need to know that she’s okay. We kind of bonded over being criminals. And there’s a code, isn’t there?
“I’ll ask.” He sighs, then walks back over to the desk and murmurs something. Then he’s back by my side, his fingers closing around my wrist like a bracelet. “She’s fine. Got bail. Her friends picked her up.”
It’s weird how happy it makes me that she’s with friends. “That’s good.” I give him a bright smile and he scowls.
“Come on,” he mutters, pulling me toward the door. “Let’s get out of here.”
The cool air hits my skin as we step into the Las Vegas night. And of course, there’s a limo waiting for us right outside, on a yellow line.
“Is that for me?” I ask him. “Because I’m not really a limo girl.”
He rolls his eyes. “Get in, Eden.”
I shake my head. “This is stupid. You don’t have to babysit me.” But I still do as he tells me, trying to look grumpy, even though I’m insanely grateful to him for springing my ass from jail.
WEST
She falls fast asleep within ten minutes of leaving the police station.
I glance over at her, all curled up in the far corner of the limo like a stray cat, covered with paint and righteous fury. Even in her sleep her arms are crossed over her chest like she’s bracing for another argument.
But when she’s asleep it’s the only time she shuts up. I should appreciate it while it lasts.
I loosen my tie and lean back on the butter-soft leather seat, watching the Vegas lights blur past the window. I owe Vin big time. When I told him I had an emergency in Las Vegas, he offered his helicopter without hesitation, calling in the pilot so we were ready to go in no time.
Because apparently, I’m now the guy who bails out my best friend’s kid sister in the middle of the night after she goes full eco-terrorist.
Not that she looks like a kid right now. With her long legs and tumbling curls she looks like a sexy Jackson Pollock painting. And yeah, I know she’s an adult, but I’m twelve years older than her at thirty-seven and I really shouldn’t be looking.
I let out a sigh and lean my head back, exhaustion washing over me.
I’m doing this for Hudson. Even though he can never know about it.
He’s been my family since freshman year of college, when he and Parker took me in like I wasn’t some lonely rich kid with a smooth veneer and no substance. They gave me friendship, support, loyalty.
And I swore that I’d always protect them both.
During college, and for years after, I spent every summer on Liberty with Hudson and his family. Every Thanksgiving stuffing myself with turkey at the Fitzgeralds, feeling like I belonged somewhere for the first time in forever.
Eden lets out a soft snore, and I turn to look at her again, remembering the little kid she was when we first met. In the summers she was always barefoot, loud, and way too smart for her own good. Yelling at her brothers, trying to save oysters or whatever she thought needed rescuing that week.
Her top is slipping off one shoulder, and red paint is streaked across her skin like she’s about to go to war. Her mouth is parted, breathing soft and quiet, in a way that makes the back of my neck itch.
I pull her shoulder strap up and look away. Take a long drink from the minibar whiskey.
The limo slows as we pull under the portico of The Vantaggio, the luxury casino and hotel that’s owned by one of Vin’s many cousins – another favor I’ll owe him for.
Eden stirs beside me, blinking with a sleepy, confused frown that makes something twist low in my gut.
“Where are we?” she asks, her voice thick with sleep.
“The Vantaggio.”
She sits up suddenly, almost making me jump. “We’re going gambling?” she asks, taking in the bright lights, cars lined up, and people milling in and out of the huge white edifice of a building. “Now?”
“We’re going to sleep,” I say firmly. “I have a room for us.”
“Just one?”
My jaw tics. I was waiting for that. “Don’t get too excited. It has two bedrooms. I don’t trust you in a room far away from me.”
She stretches, arms high above her head, her tank top rising to reveal a sliver of her red paint-splashed stomach.
Don’t look. Don’t look.
My mouth goes dry.
“Damn,” she says, grinning at me, back to her usual teasing. It didn’t take her long. “And here I thought tonight was the start of something special.”
“Trust me,” I mutter, stepping out of the limo. “This is the last kind of special I need right now.”
Eden slides out after me, paint splattered, and still somehow managing to look like she owns the place. She’s woken up punchy. Maybe I should have kept her awake. I’m not sure I have the patience for this.
And every eye outside of The Vantaggio is drawn to her. I take off my jacket and offer it to her. She frowns at me. “I’m not cold.”
“Put it on,” I say sharply. “We’re going into a luxury hotel.” My eyes do a once over, hopefully expressing her attire is not ideal.
Her eyes widen. “Oh, you’re embarassed of me.” God, she sounds almost gleeful.
“I have a reputation to uphold,” I tell her. “And The Vantaggio is an exclusive casino.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
Her fingers brush mine as she takes my jacket, and my pulse kicks up even more. Another problem with being so busy making deals is that I haven’t touched a woman for way too long.
I need to get laid. And not by her.
The doorman gives us a tight smile, clearly trying to figure out if he should call security or roll out the red carpet. But then Eden grins at him, flashing him the full force of her ‘I’m totally harmless’ charm. It works, of course.
It always does. He opens the door, giving her a friendly nod, before he looks at me.
His expression tells me he thinks this is all my fault. That I’m the dirty old man with a slasher fetish.
My smile back at him tells him, I know.
Then I follow her inside, rubbing a hand across the back of my neck, as I remind myself of one very important thing.
She’s Hudson’s little sister. Too young. Too innocent. Off limits. And I don’t want her anyway.
But I’m almost certain she’ll be the reason I’m going to need a new fucking heart by the end of tonight.