10. Jaelyn
CHAPTER 10
JAELYN
I stir my coffee, shifting in the wooden chair at my favorite little diner on the Strip the next morning. I wonder how much longer they’re going to sit here and gossip. I have a ton of work to do at Sapphire and all of this…I don’t know, I guess it’s girl talk…is getting to me and my head feels like it is slowly being filled with oatmeal.
Apropos since we just finished breakfast.
Nate is always telling me to make friends and to socialize.
I tell him I have Ashleigh and I don’t need anyone else.
I guess I’ve just never been used to having a whole gaggle of girlfriends. I always spent all of my time at the clubhouse back in Miami, and then when Eli showed up on the scene, he filled my hours.
I never really did well with other girls.
Catty bitches.
Case in point, the near-disaster at the club last night between Velvet and Cassia. Although, since both of them made an insane amount of cash last night because of their impromptu tag team act, they’re pawing at each other like long lost lovers this morning. Testing some material for their next performance?
Maybe.
It just means more green for Sapphire, so I’m all for whatever it is.
“Jae!”
I blink fast and turn to Ash. “Yeah?”
“I said your name three times!”
I shrug. “Okay, and now you finally have my attention. Or did you expect Beetlejuice to appear?”
Ash rolls her eyes. “Well, good, because I have a great idea!”
“Listening…”
“Well, you saw how amazing things went last night having Velvet and Cassia together on stage,” she starts.
Velvet and Cassia exchange a look and suddenly, their joyous expressions morph into resting bitch faces.
It’s clearly an occupational hazard of working at the Sapphire Lounge.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
They’re obviously anticipating the reason for Ashleigh’s excitement and wondering how much it’s gonna cut into their profits for the night.
“I was thinking, why don’t we do a show where we bring all of our headliners together for one night and also invite a few others who will draw in their own crowds?” Her lips curl upward. “You know that the porn convention is being held in Vegas next week, right? So why not invite a few of the heavy hitters to join the party? We can even invite one per club and rotate them around the other nightclubs throughout the week! It would be amazing for business, don’t you think? You always have to stay ahead of the curve, right?”
I love Ashleigh’s enthusiasm. Really, I do. But Cassia and Velvet look like they want to leap across the table and shred her with their multicolored talons.
“Ash, there’s a lot to consider with that. Contracts, agents, added security.” I give her shoulder a little squeeze. “I think this idea would be great, but I need to run it past Nate. You know how he can be. He’ll blow a million holes into the idea before he’ll ever entertain it.”
“You don’t need porn stars. You have us,” Cassia purrs.
“Even the hottest pussy gets tired,” Ashleigh snaps.
“Are you calling me old?” Cassia squeals, slamming her hands on the Formica tabletop.
“I’m just saying that the audience gets tired of the same old thing!”
“She said old again!” Velvet hisses. “You wanna get cut, bitch?”
Ashleigh lets out a frustrated sigh and flips her blonde hair over her shoulder. “You two don’t know anything about running a business! Let me tell you this, if we can’t give people new reasons to come and sample the talent, they will go somewhere else! Somewhere they can see something new and fresh and shiny!”
“So I’m fucking tarnished?” Cassia yells, jumping up from her chair and launching back a fist.
I leap up and grab her wrist before she lets that fist fly at Ash. “Hey!” I say in a warning voice, twisting my head left and right. “People are watching,” I hiss. “Hold your shit together, Cassia. I don’t think you want to spend all of that hard-earned money bailing your ass out of jail, am I right?”
She yanks her wrist out of my hand, her eyes narrowed to slits. “I don’t share the spotlight, Jae. Last night was great, but my pussy can command its own huge audience, you got that? Any other club would love to have me!” She grabs her bag, and with one final death glare at Ashleigh, she flounces out of the diner, Velvet on her heels.
I rub my temples, collapsing back into my chair. Guys wouldn’t have this kind of exchange. They’d just be like, “You wanna add another cock? Yeah, great. Can I get more beer in the dressing room?”
And the conversation would be over.
But this?
Jesus Christ.
My head is splitting and it’s barely eleven o’clock in the morning.
Ashleigh slouches in the chair. “I thought it would be good for business.”
“You know, business is really rocketing, right?” I say.
She throws up her hands. “So you just sit back and ride it out? No! You have to keep doing new things, different things, exciting things!”
“Listen, I know you want to have a voice at the club, but you have to know who you’re dealing with. These girls are territorial and vicious. I don’t want them to jump you in the parking lot because you’re trying to steal their cash.”
“But I’m not trying to steal it! I’m trying to get them more!”
I shake my head. “More competition to them means less money. They don’t think strategically with their heads. They think with their pussies. And pussy say, shine the spotlight on me!”
Ashleigh giggles, spitting orange juice on the table. “You need to get Nate onboard with a new plan for the club. We need new ideas!”
“And this is exactly why we hired you. Don’t worry about those old bitches,” I say, making Ash smile. “Let me talk to Nate and we’ll come up with a plan. For what it’s worth, I like your angle. I think it could work really well. Guest porn stars. Classy.” I wink at her as I stand up and grab my handbag. “I’m heading to the club right now, but I’ll talk to you later tonight. Maybe we can get some time with Nate and present your idea.”
Her mouth opens. “Really?” she asks.
“Definitely.” I give her shoulder a squeeze and toss a few bills onto the table before hurrying out of the diner.
Nate will be happy.
I socialized and stopped an assault as an added bonus.
He’ll be proud.
That’s more than I can say for his reaction to my version of girls’ night last week.
I fling my bag over my shoulder and trudge to my car. My whole body aches from falling asleep on the couch in my office last night. When I finally dragged myself out of the club, under Nate’s supervision of course, it was almost six.
And it felt like I had been in traction.
He followed me home, like always, and I collapsed onto my bed for another few hours. But just like my time on the couch, my sleep at home was splintered with memories…some good, some bad, some erotic as hell.
The erotic variety are the ones I remember the most clearly.
And they all starred Sergio Villani, the arrogant, self-centered prick who thought he could come into our club swinging his Italian stallion dick around with all kinds of threats about what his family could do to us if we don’t accept his bullshit offer to sell.
Why wouldn’t they just spend their money bailing out their own nightclubs and keep their grubby hands off of what we built?
Fucking mafia.
Vegas is like a breeding ground for those greasy bastards who think they can own every square inch of this city. Not that Nate rattles easy. The last thing he wants is to get in the middle of their crosshairs. We don’t need any more enemies.
He played it cool, though. Exactly as I planned.
And Sergio’s reaction was perfect. He’s desperate and hungry, which means he needs Sapphire.
And us.
That means we have a chance to battle the Becerra Cartel head on, just as soon as Sergio’s need for our business makes him so crazed with greed that he’s willing to do anything to get a piece.
But for as angry as I was that he thought he could waltz into Sapphire and expect us to just bend at his will because of his family influence, I can’t forget how his fingertips scorched the surface of my skin, insistent and greedy. I can’t forget how his eyes bore into me, heating my insides to the point of boiling. And I can’t forget how his cock pressed against me, long, thick, and hard. It was damn impressive.
I wasn’t lying when I called it an Italian stallion dick.
I pull open the door handle of my car and hop into the driver’s seat. I love it so much. My Mercedes is ridiculously expensive and impractical, but one I have fantasized about having for as long as I can remember.
Nate got it for me for my last birthday, courtesy of the nightclub circuit. It’s technically a company car, but call it what you want, it’s still my ass driving it.
I head toward the club, which is on the opposite end of the Strip. It’s still pretty early for Vegas, so traffic is light. I like getting to Sapphire early in the day. It’s quiet and I can think without having to deal with whiny divas and pulsating music.
It also gives me a little bit of peace and privacy. Nate doesn’t show up until later, and it’s nice to have the place to myself for a little while.
To not have him hawking me.
I know why he does it, and I’m grateful for everything he’s done to keep us safe for the past few years. But it’s not a life.
Not one I want to lead long-term, anyway.
I pull off the main road, making a left turn off of the Strip, headed in the direction of the club. This road is one of the reasons why Nate picked the location for Sapphire. It gives it an air of exclusivity since it’s off the beaten path. You don’t just find Sapphire. You go because you’re in the know, because you’re a VIP, because you’re one to be seen.
It’s a whole mental thing with our patrons.
And it works well for us.
The sun blazes in the sky, heating me through the windshield even though I have my air conditioner on full blast. I’d love to feel the wind whip my hair around but in this heat, I’d be drenched in seconds if I opened the window. I speed down the road, taking a deep, calming breath after my unsettling breakfast, determined to put all of the angst and drama behind me.
Nate was so hell-bent on me having my own life so I can find a way to fit into this new normal, but I don’t. Not that I really want to. A tiny part of me is convinced that it’s all temporary anyway. I mean, how realistic is it that a powerful drug cartel can just ‘lose’ targets? Targets who dare stay in the country? Targets who do the unthinkable…like make a name for themselves and even worse, tons of money?
That’s just asking for trouble.
And since our enemies are now here in Vegas, we’re screwed unless we come up with a battle plan.
My brilliant partnership strategy.
Imagine having the backing of not one, but several, brutal mafia families.
Becerra will be shitting hash bricks.
My ninety percent of the time level-headed brother usually dismisses my concerns about the cartel tracking us any time I bring them up. I know he’s trying to make up for what we lost. According to Nate, his decisions forced us out of a life we loved and destroyed our family. I say he was in a no-win situation and did what he needed to do to survive. He made a call that was supposed to protect everyone and instead, it went sideways because drug lords don’t like to hear the word ‘no’. Nate has been trying to make up for it ever since and wants to make sure he positions us so that we can battle whomever we need to.
The mafia dudes are our answer.
Our salvation.
I let out a deep sigh. Of all the things I saw for my future, leading this pussy parade was definitely not one of them. I had plans. I had dreams. I had Eli.
Although, if I’m being honest, there wasn’t a single second I spent with Eli where he made my stomach knot like a pretzel or make my heart slam against my chest like a jackhammer or made me drip with desire in places that have never been properly plundered.
Like, and I really hate to admit this, Sergio Villani does.
I loved Eli but he never made me hot to the point of sweltering. He was sweet, respectful, and gentle, so different from the typical guys in the club who were only out for rough, dirty, and meaningless sex. I loved that he was my friend first and that he made me feel beautiful and wanted. That he made me feel ooey gooey on the inside anytime he’d flash those big brown eyes at me.
Maybe I just liked the way we complemented each other. He grounded me. Since I already had enough of my own fire, I guess I liked that he could bring me into the calm. It was different from the turbulence that was my life.
That turbulence was nothing compared to what I’ve experienced over the past three years.
And a nagging feeling deep in my gut tells me it’s about to bubble up again.
Because you just can’t run forever.
But drive? In my beloved car?
I relax my shoulders, a smile plastered on my face as I feel the engine purr when I accelerate.
I could do this for a lifetime.
I could follow this road and never stop.
I could keep going, and going, and?—
My cell phone pings, and I press the button on the dashboard to answer.
“Hey!” I say to my brother.
“How was breakfast?” he asks.
“Eventful, as always,” I say with a chuckle. “But Ash has a really cool idea I want to run past you later.”
“Okay,” he says. I bite down on my lower lip because I can totally tell he has a thing for Ashleigh. He thinks he hides it well, but I can see it clear as day. And I love to hassle him about it any chance I get. Sometimes I need to rattle him with something fun to think about since his days and nights are overshadowed by his fears of impending doom and gloom.
He needs to smile more.
Hell, so do I.
“I’m on my way to the club. What time will you be there?” I ask.
“Probably in a couple of hours,” he says. “But, Jae, be careful, okay? Get inside, set the alarm, and call me immediately. I’ll be watching on the cameras, too.”
“When does the electrified fence activate?” I say with a snicker.
“Smartass,” he grunts. “I’m trying to keep you?—”
“I know, alive,” I finish his statement. “But don’t worry. I’ve got eyes everywhere, too. I’ll be fine. I promise.”
“Okay, later.”
I click to end the call and sing along to the song on the radio at the top of my lungs when a loud crack explodes into the still air around me.
And just as suddenly, my car jerks far right, skidding into the dirt on the side of the road.
“What the hell?” I screech, trying with every ounce of strength I have to steer the car the opposite way to straighten it out before I crash head-on into one of the nearby palm trees lining the side of the road.
Another pop follows, and now the back of the car is fishtailing out of control, spinning out before it finally comes to a screeching stop. I’m jolted and jerked around in my seat, panic snaking through me. Pants mixed with expletives spew from my mouth, my shoulders quaking as I clutch the leather steering wheel. “Oh my God! What the fuck is happening?” I cry out.
My chest heaves as I fumble with the lock for the glove compartment. I need my gun, dammit!
Visions of the Bowman brothers splattered with blood streak across my vision as I dig around for my weapon.
I knew this would happen.
I told Nate it was coming!
My fingers are shaking so badly that I can’t even grip the handle for longer than a second before it slips out of my hand and onto the floor. In my periphery, I see a tall figure approaching and I bend down to grab the gun, checking that there is a full cl?—
Fuck!
It’s empty!
I toss the gun to the ground since it’s useless to me now. I grab a pen from the console, ready to impale anyone who gets too close.
The man’s image gets sharper as he closes the distance between us, my spine stiff, my pen hand ready to lance.
I blink fast.
Wait…I know him!
Dark hair.
Killer body.
Harsh, penetrating gaze.
It’s Sergio Villani.
And he’s pointing a gun right at my head.
He pulls it away for a split second, just enough time to pop off a shot and deflate the front left tire, making the bottom of the car crack against the pavement under it.
I let out a piercing scream until he has the gun back on me. He pulls open the door, motioning for me to get out. This is my chance. I can at least take out an eye!
I keep my arm at my side, pen wrapped tight in my fingers as I glare at him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“Get out of the car, Jaelyn,” he says, his lips twisted into a grimace that makes him look hotter than hell, if that’s even possible. God, he does the menacing thing really well.
Must be all that mafia boot camp shit.
I leap out of the car with a guttural scream, launching my hand at his jugular at the same time a brief sting in my left arm jolts me. Sergio doesn’t even blink as he sidesteps my attack. The sting quickly replaced with an icy cold sensation that slithers down to my fingertips, numbing them almost instantly. It winds through my insides, rendering me completely immobile in seconds. I try to swat at him, my already-weak attempt useless since the pen is now on the ground at my feet. I sway left and right, my knees buckling as I collapse against him.
I can’t move. I can’t yell. I can’t do a goddamn thing except lay in his arms as whatever he just injected me with sucks the consciousness from my body.
As numbness spreads through me, quickly replacing the panic, a heavy black fog consumes my conscious and I spiral hard and fast into the sinkhole that has suddenly become my life.