CHAPTER 24
Maddie
I love sleeping in.
I love it so much, I could rob a bank and escape to the Bahamas just to be able to sleep in every day for the rest of my life.
Can you rob a bank with a keychain canister of pepper spray?
It’s the only weapon I have. Not sure if I could even steal a kid’s lunch money with it. I’d probably get my ass kicked.
I check my phone.
Riggs: Let me know when you’re up.
He sent it twenty minutes ago. It’s noon, which means he probably slept in too.
Maddie: I’m up.
Riggs: Want to get something to eat then check out the Strip? We have tickets for the Cirque du Soleil show O tonight. Ash got us good seats. Should be fun.
I look it up and watch the promo video, mesmerized. It looks amazing.
Maddie: I’ve always wanted to see a Cirque show.
Riggs: I’ve seen a couple and really enjoyed them. Heard O is great. Lunch?
Maddie: Meet you in the lobby in an hour?
I hope that’s not too long, but I want a shower and time to get ready.
Riggs: An hour is perfect.
As I get ready, I start to question everything I’m doing.
Before coming to Vegas, why did I make a blouse with a low-cut neckline that reveals just enough cleavage to make me feel sexy?
Why did I alter an old pair of jeans to really show off my ass?
Why did I mend and resize a lacy bra and matching panties I found on clearance at a discount store?
And why am I spending so much time on my hair and makeup?
What am I doing? I made him promise we would be just friends.
Friends with benefits? If I’m being honest, hell yeah!
Now that I’ve gotten to know him better, things seem like they’ve changed.
He’s so much more than I expected. And now that we’re together again, with all those muscles and the way the man smells, I can’t stop thinking about riding him like a raging bull!
I set my hairbrush down and stare at my reflection.
Sure, the sex would probably be great, but what happens after?
What benefits when he’s gone all the time?
Do I want to throw caution to the wind and sink my fingernails into that fine ass while he’s inside me?
Fuck yeah I do. But could I and not want more?
Could I do it and not want a real relationship?
If he bent me over and took me from behind while he made me scream his name, would I be able to walk away without feelings for him?
I know the answer, so where would that leave me?
Where would it leave us while he’s on the other side of the world?
With a deep breath, my mind is made up. Just friends is the way it has to be. So why am I adjusting my bra to squeeze out a little more cleavage?
I’m ready to go except for my eyelashes.
Do I go natural or put on the fake ones I managed to score on sale?
They’re sitting on the countertop, begging to be used, but they’re such a pain to put on and they might be too much.
No, natural, it is. I curl my lashes then add a little more mascara than usual, but not too much.
When I’m done, I actually like the way they look.
When I see him in the lobby I almost spin around, get back on the elevator and go back to my room to put the damn fake lashes on.
Dang, he cleans up nice. I haven’t seen him in cowboy boots before—not in any of his videos or the thousands of images I stalked online like a crazy woman.
And even from here I can tell those aren’t his usual jeans.
No, the ones he’s wearing now are definitely a high-end designer brand.
His ass always looked good, but now I could stare for days.
What would it be like to grab both ass cheeks and squeeze them while his tongue is in my mouth?
As he turns to face me, I take in his tight-fitting shirt and how it has four buttons at the neckline.
Of course, none of them are buttoned leaving a clear view of the defined line running down the center of his tan chest. The short sleeves stretched tight over his huge arms is a sight to see, but so are those incredible forearms. And he’s still wearing that necklace with the little wood box hanging from it.
He’s also wearing the bracelets, some made of paracord, others made of dark leather.
Everything about him exudes confidence and in a total turn-on kind of way.
As I walk up, I can smell him—soap and spice.
His thick, wavy dark hair is combed back with the tiniest amount of gel and his beard is neatly trimmed.
As if all that wasn’t tempting enough, he flashes his white teeth in a smile that could make nuns give up their vows.
Suddenly I have only one thought—should I be wearing underwear?
It seemed like a good idea when I put them on, but not so much now.
“You look good. I like your eyelashes.”
He noticed? What kind of guy notices something like that? I want to have his babies!
“Thanks. I like the boots.”
“Thanks. I don’t get to wear them very often.
They wouldn’t work out on the trail, but they’re comfortable as hell, so I like to wear them when I’m back.
” His eyes travel from his boots to my ankles then up my body in a way that makes me want to drag him back to my room.
He may be a lot bigger, but right now, I don’t think he could stop me.
“Anyway,” he says, meeting my eyes, “there’s this Jamaican place up the Strip I was thinking about.
I heard they have great jerk chicken. What do you think?
Be honest, because you can get any kind of food you want in Vegas. ”
“I love jerk chicken,” I lie. I’ve never had jerk chicken, but who cares? I just want to keep taking in his scent and stare into those blue eyes.
We take his rental car, and on the way, we talk about what we want to do until the show tonight.
“Have you ever played poker?” he asks.
Interesting question. Growing up, knowing how to play was like a family requirement.
Mom actually taught Dad how to play, which, looking back, was a mistake.
She was so good at it, but she didn’t play that often.
She always said she was an appliance player.
When the fridge stopped working, she went to the casino and in one night, won enough to buy our high-end fridge.
It even has an ice maker. Mom’s poker winnings paid for the washer, dryer, stove, and even the tires on Keegan’s sorry excuse for a truck.
Her winnings paid for all kinds of things, but then she stopped one day hoping Dad would too.
He always lost more than she could win. Unfortunately, Dad didn’t stop.
When we were little, Mom taught me and my brothers how to play the way she did—when to raise, when to fold, how to tell when someone was bluffing.
She had several strategies she could rely on, and over the years, especially when I was in high school, I learned all of them.
But Josh and Keegan hated poker. They only wanted to go fishing.
Even when they were kids, that’s all they’ve ever wanted to do.
I, on the other hand, loved to spend hours with Mom at the kitchen table talking and laughing while we ate cheap snacks and played poker late into the weekend nights.
Those are still some of my fondest memories.
“I’ve played Texas Hold’em a few times,” I tell him. First rule Mom taught me was—let them underestimate you because you’re a girl.
“Not to brag,” Riggs says with a hint of cockiness, “but I’m pretty good. Want to play after lunch?”
“Sure, sounds fun, but I might need your help.”
“No problem. We can go over the rules while we’re eating.”
Turns out I like jerk chicken. It’s so good, I almost tune out Riggs’s ridiculous poker strategies, though I keep nodding like I’m impressed.
When we’re finally seated at the poker table, I’m in the seven-seat, and Riggs is directly across from me in the three-seat.
I’m on the button. It’s a one-two, no-limit game with a max buy-in of two hundred dollars.
The guy to my right has fourteen hundred and change.
Everyone else has short stacks. Looks like the big-stack has been bullying the table. This should be fun.
Three hours later, I count my chips. Sixteen hundred and change.
The bully left an hour ago. He had less than three hundred and I’m pretty sure he called me a skank under his breath.
Riggs lost his first two hundred, then his second, followed by his third.
He’s on his fourth buy-in. I think he’s down about $680 and a lot of his chips are in my stack.
“What do you say we get a bite to eat?” he says to me over the table.
It’s a little after seven, and I was thinking the same thing. It would give us time for dinner before we need to go back to our rooms to get ready for the show tonight. I can’t believe how much fun I’m having. “You read my mind.”
“Okay, Miss Hustler,” Riggs says after we cash out, “you have to show me how you did that.”
“If you really want to know, sure.”
We step out of the poker room and start toward the parking garage, at least we think we’re going in the right direction. The endless rows of slot machines form a maze intentionally designed to hide the exits so players will be enticed to stay a little longer.
We’ve traveled down one winding path for some time only to realize the parking garage is in the opposite direction. With a sigh, we turn around and start heading back in the direction we just came from when he says, “All right, I really want to know.”
From his mildly agitated tone I think losing most of his chips to me has been bothering him more than he wanted to let on.
Or maybe he’s just realizing I was playing him when I told him I needed his help.
I could see how that could bruise a man’s ego, but in my defense…
well, I don’t have a defense for that. It was kind of mean.
“Okay—” My phone rings before I can finish that thought.
To my surprise, I see it’s Dad. He never calls unless he needs something.
He probably wants to borrow money because he lost all of his.
I don’t know why he even bothers, I always tell him no.
But here he is again. “Hey, Dad. What’s going on? ”
The line is silent. Did he butt-dial me by mistake?
“Hello?”
Nothing. That’s weird.
I’m about to hang up, but I can hear him breathing.
Wait, is he… crying?
Oh no.
My breath lodges in my throat. No, no, no.
“Dad, what happened? Tell me,” I shout.
His voice is trembling, barely a whisper when he finally mumbles, “She didn’t wake up.”
That’s it. He doesn’t say anything else. She didn’t wake up? What is talking about?
“Dad, tell me everything. Are you—”
“She’s gone,” he yells.
The line beeps like the call dropped. Did he hang up on me? Wait, what did he just say?
My head is spinning in a fog of confusion as I try to process what’s happening. Desperate, I try to clear my head but an overwhelming cacophony of cha-ching-ching-chings from a million greedy slot machines surrounding us drown out all reason and I can’t seem to process any of it.
She didn’t wake up? She’s gone? What did he mean by—
It hits me all at once, like a thunder bolt from a dark storm cloud and I can’t breathe. This can’t be happening. I drop my phone screaming, “Nooo!”
“Maddie!” I feel pressure around my arms. “Maddie, what happened?”
I look down to see Riggs’s hands gripping me and without warning, my legs give way.
He tries to catch me, but I fall to the floor, my back landing against the cold metal of an annoying slot machine that won’t shut up.
Riggs crouches down, concern in those beautiful blue eyes.
Tears start to flow as I look up to meet his gaze.
“She’s… ” I convulse with a sob. I can’t bring myself to tell him, like saying the words out loud will somehow make it real.
He grabs my shoulders with a firm grip. “You’re scaring me. What happened?”
I feel like I’m going to be sick. “She’s…” My body is shaking so hard my stomach hurts. I bite back another sob. The whole room is spinning. “She’s… gone.” It comes out so softly I don’t know if he could hear me, but it’s all I can muster.
“Oh, Maddie,” he exhales. He comes to his feet pulling me up with him then wraps his arms around me like a protective shield, but he can’t protect me from this. Nothing can and all I can do is bury my face in his chest and cry.
He’s holding me tight, not saying a word and I can’t stop as reality sets in.
I’ll never cook for her again. We’ll never play Rummy again.
I’ll never be able to hug her again. She won’t be there late into the night, keeping me company while I make dresses.
She’ll never make me laugh again. This is it.
I’ll never see her again. It hurts so bad.
I turn with my cheek pressed against his chest and through teary eyes I see several people gathered around us.
They’re all standing there, just staring.
I must be quite the spectacle, but I don’t give a shit.
Fuck them. Fuck everyone! I turn back and bury my face in Riggs’s shoulder and let the tears flow.
He says something, but it doesn’t register. I can’t believe she’s gone. It’s too much. The pain is too much. The world is closing in on me, my vision narrowing as my breaths turn shallow. I can’t… I go limp and everything goes black.
I’m only half-aware of being cradled in Riggs’s arms as he carries me through the casino. Instinctively my hands come up and clasp around his neck. It feels like I’m floating as we rush through the maze. “Hold on,” he whispers, “I’m getting you out of here.”
When we’re finally outside, he stops a good distance from valet parking, far enough away for us to be alone.
“It’s okay,” I tell him. “You can put me down.”
“Are you sure? I think you passed out.”
I think I did too for a moment, but I feel like I can stand on my own. “Yeah, I’m good.”
As my feet touch the pavement, it feels like the sky should be dark with lightning and thunder clouds, but the evening air is warm, quiet, and calm. Riggs cups my cheek with, “I’m so sorry, Maddie. I know how hard this is. Let me take you somewhere safe.”
That releases the floodgates and a new batch of tears cascade down my face as I lean into him for support. I’m so thankful he’s here. And he’s right, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to face.
How can she be gone?
God, I just want to die.