Chapter 11 Vaughn
VAUGHN
I wasn’t kissing my wife because I wanted to.
I definitely wanted to. No amount of danger could change that.
But this wasn’t about desire or giving in to the thrill of the moment. She had no idea what she was doing to my resolve when she wiggled against me, trying to stop this when all she did was blur the lines and make me want her more.
She didn’t know there was a deeper reason for me practically covering her body with mine, blocking her from view while my tongue slid against hers as my dick hardened, probing her hip through my pants and the thin, loose cotton skirt she wore, making it impossible for me to do anything but grind gently in my body’s search for what it needed.
Let her try to fight it all she wanted, but she was as helpless as me.
Going weak, giving in, her hands slid over my back beneath my suit jacket, even tugging at my shirt like she was trying to pull it free of my waistband as if she craved the feel of my skin the way I craved hers.
Her short, sharp breaths matched mine, and I would have sworn I could feel the rapid drumbeat of her heart against my chest, making me even more protective over what was mine.
One more kiss. One more.
I tasted her lips, explored the inside of her mouth, teasing one soft moan after another from deep in her throat.
Finally, when the sound of footsteps and voices faded, I took the chance of breaking the kiss and glancing to my right, where moments ago, an armed man almost spotted her.
Me, they would never have recognized. Hell, they might not have known her, but I wasn’t going to take chances.
We were two people making out against a wall in the middle of Las Vegas. It was hardly a first.
“Why did you do that?” Her chest heaved against mine, her breath fanning across my face in sharp gasps.
“Is it obvious, Oxford?” When she scoffed, I added, “We got spotted. It was all I could think to do to cover you. Not that it was any hardship,” I admitted, still fighting for breath.
When her face fell slightly, I snickered. “Is that disappointment I see?” She sputtered, struggling to come up with a sharp retort, and I left her to it while craning my neck to get a better view of the parking lot. It was clear now, the van and the armed men were gone.
We were safe…
For now.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here.” When she didn’t move, I took her by the hand, squeezing hard to shake her out of whatever shock she was in.
She was right. Not that I thought she was lying, but she was right about what she’d seen and what it meant.
We were both witnesses to what was going on here. How long had it been going on?
“I can’t believe it.” Her voice sounded small, far away, almost like a child far younger than her already young age.
“And I can’t fucking believe you ducked your guard to sneak out here.
” Frustration didn’t begin to describe what flooded my system.
“You’re damn lucky I was nearby and decided to take a look around when I did.
Dammit, Nova. You have to be smarter than that.
” We emerged onto the sidewalk, instantly swallowed up by crowds of people wandering around, snapping selfies, cheering for no reason.
Drunk, all of them, on the spectacle of it all.
The hope of hitting the jackpot. As if the house didn’t always win in the end.
I wasted no time getting her to the garage across the street, texting her guard to let him know I had her before pulling out onto the Strip. She’d given him the slip. We’d need to have a talk later about his job if a twenty-four-year-old girl could get the better of him.
“I didn’t want to believe it,” she whispered, shaking her head.
“I really didn’t. I kept trying to tell myself it was a mistake, a mix-up…
something stupid like that. Because I didn’t want to believe he would be behind this, even when I heard them talking about it in his office. What is wrong with me?”
I could understand the sentiment, even if I was more than a little pissed. She’d spent a week sidestepping the issue, avoiding it, before doing something idiotic like almost announcing her presence.
Stopping at a red light, I glanced her way, prepared to give her ten kinds of shit for being an idiot, until the stricken look she wore made me think twice.
In spite of our age difference, she was not a child, but at the moment she wore the look of someone who had the last of their childish beliefs destroyed.
Like finding out there was no Santa Claus, only much worse.
I didn’t say another word during the drive home, and neither did she, choosing to wring her hands in her lap and rocking slightly. It wasn’t until I pulled to a stop at the base of my front steps that she whispered, “I don’t know what to do next.”
That much, I could handle. “You’re going to go inside, you’re going to let me pour you a drink, and we’re going to work this out.
You don’t have to do this alone.” Where had that come from?
It escaped out of me before I knew what I was thinking.
It felt right, though. True. She needed to know she was not alone.
I gently helped her out of the car, slipping an arm around her to steady her as we made our way up the front steps.
She leaned into me, her weight soft but heavy with exhaustion, and I held her a little tighter.
When we reached the living room, I eased her onto the couch, making sure she was comfortable.
She didn’t resist but gave me a tired look that tugged at my heart.
“I’ll get you a drink,” I said, feeling the need to take care of her.
She gave no response, leaning forward with her elbows on her thighs so she could rest her face in her hands.
We could both use a drink. I poured two generous glasses of whisky from the bar cart on the other side of the room and offered her one on my return.
I sat next to her, facing her, watching her.
Ice clinked in the glass, but she lifted it to her lips without spilling anything and took a long sip.
Lustrous black hair hung like curtains on either side of her face.
I couldn’t help but reach out to sweep some of it away, allowing me to see her better.
I tucked it behind her ear, allowing the back of my fingers to caress her jaw.
Was I comforting her or indulging my impulses?
“I still don’t know what to do. How can I turn my own father over to the police?” I wasn’t sure if she was speaking to me or to herself, staring into her glass.
“First things first,” I reminded her. “There’s no proof, and the authorities are hesitant to raise trouble with the people who make this town run, if you know what I mean.”
“In other words, it has to be airtight. I can’t believe I have to think this way about my own father.
” After another sip of whisky, she set her glass on the coffee table, releasing a deep breath.
“I wouldn’t know where to begin. I don’t feel like I can let them know I’ve seen this.
I doubt… I mean, I don’t know if Nico would even let me make it to the police station.
Not with the way he threatened me, and that was when he thought I overheard them, nothing more.
If he knows I saw it going down…” The way she shivered spoke volumes and made killing that son of a bitch seem like a good idea.
“What about an anonymous tip?” I suggested. I knew damn well it wouldn’t make a difference, but instinct compelled me to say something to comfort her—anything—so long as I could take some of the pain away.
“Like you said, it wouldn’t make a difference. Not without proof, and I don’t have any.” Suddenly, her head snapped up, her wide eyes looking at me. “What if you said something? You have the sort of reputation I don’t. You’re a big deal.”
I chose to overlook the fact that it took something like this for her to call me a big deal. Under any other circumstances, it might be funny. “Your father has a long history in this town. They’re not going to take the word of a competitor at face value.”
Why did her face have to fall the way it did? And why did my heart have to sink with it? “It’s hopeless. That’s what you’re telling me.”
“Nothing is hopeless.” Though this was damn close. “But if we’re going to get through this, I need you to agree to one boundary.”
Arching an eyebrow, she asked, “What is it?”
“Under no circumstances can I allow you to go to your father’s casino alone. You’ve been gone for two years, and you clearly have no idea what, or who, he’s involved with now. It’s too risky. You want to go? You take a guard if not me.”
The girl was too predictable, scowling at my order. “Are you going to drag me by my hair now?” she asked, clicking her tongue in disdain. “I understand what you’re going for, but maybe try to sound a little less like a caveman when you say it.”
Stubborn. Fucking. Brat. “Why does it always have to be a fight?” I snapped. “Don’t you get I’m worried about you?”
“Worried about me? I’m not the one you need to be worried about. It’s those girls!” she insisted, her voice rising in pitch, more frantic with every word. “There’s going to be more, you know there will, there will be so many more and—”
I did the only thing I could think to do. I reached for her, grabbed her, and pulled her close to me. “Enough.” I stroked her hair, absorbing her pain and grief, wishing I could take it all away. “That’s enough. Rest now. We’ll figure this out. You’re not alone,” I insisted.
“I wish I could go back to before I knew.” She was now sobbing against my chest, gripping the lapels of my jacket like they were her lifeline. “Is that selfish? Is that wrong?”