Like that redhead. He’d like to get another look at her, at those ripe tits that would fit so nicely in his palms. Hot as f**k and a penchant for gambling—that woman must be all kinds of fire in the sack. If she came back down to the tables, he’d be ready for her. Oh, hell, he’d be ready for her.
He licked his lips, his tongue sliding over the bottom one.
* * *
Friday, 4:07 p.m., Highway 15 en route from Los Angeles to Las Vegas
As soon as he hit the highway, the sun was blaring high in the sky, like a goddamn alien beam of light from a spaceship, designed to blind him. He dropped his shades over his eyes, shielding them from the glare through the windshield. He slid his phone into the holder on the dashboard and turned on the speaker.
First, Charlie.
He hit the call button, and the man who used to have Julia under his thumb answered on the third ring.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the man with steel balls.”
Clay did his best to force out a laugh. “Iron, actually. I had a metal transplant last month.”
“Excellent news. I hope the surgeon stitched you up well,” he said in his lightly accented voice. Clay heard the sounds of dishes being stacked and assumed Charlie was at his favorite place in the world—his restaurant, Mr. Pong’s. “I hope you’ve finally come to your senses and plan to take me up on my offer of employment.”
“Afraid not. The actors and producers of the world are keeping me pretty busy.”
Charlie cleared his throat, stripped the casual tone from it. “So what do you want then? Or rather, what do you need? I’m watching the Giants game right now, and Buster Posey is on deck. I never miss Buster Posey at bat.”
“He’s your favorite player ever,” Clay said, remembering the conversation they’d had about sports the one time they’d had lunch at Charlie’s eatery when Clay had secured the terms for Julia’s freedom. “And he’s having a great season. On track for MVP.”
“He is. I’ve got my bets down already.”
“Of course you do,” Clay said.
“So why are you calling?”
He’d been weighing just the right words, but wasn’t even sure if the right ones existed for his question. “I don’t suppose you’ve taken up a new interest in Julia, have you?”
Silence. He was met with stark silence, and it felt lethal. Like he’d crossed a line. Seconds later, Charlie spoke. “Why would you think I have an interest in Red?”
“Because she thought there were some people following her in Vegas,” he said, figuring honesty was the best policy at this point.
“What a shame for her,” Charlie said in a dry voice. Clearly, he didn’t think it was a shame at all. “I hope it’s not bringing her trouble but—and correct me if I’m wrong, though I’m sure I’m not—we did have a deal, right?”
Clay’s chest tightened and he gripped the wheel harder, trying to keep his eyes on the road while also focusing on the conversation that was quickly going south. “Yes. We had a deal,” he said.
“And I believe,” Charlie began, stopping to take another harrowing pause that sent Clay’s pulse racing, “that the deal was I would leave her alone if the money was paid. The money was paid, the debt was clear, and we shook hands like men. So why would you call me and ask such a question?”
Shit. His luck wasn’t just gone. It was f**king being filleted, fried and served back to him on a platter.
“Hey, nothing to it. Just looking out for my woman.”
“As a man should. But it saddens me that you would misconstrue the terms of our deal. I said I would leave her alone, and I have left her alone. In fact, I haven’t even thought once about her. I have new ringers, all over the country, and I don’t need a thing from her.”
He gulped. “The country?”
“I do not want to have this conversation now, or anytime, frankly. You knew I was expanding and moving games to new cities. I have new ringers, and they are taking care of business. But you are not. You are violating business ethics. I do not like the insinuation that I would disrespect our deal. You are pissing me off.”
He heaved a sigh, and prepared to eat crow for the second time that day. Grovel if he had to. But the line had gone dead. Charlie had hung up on him. His stomach dropped.
He banged his fist on the steering wheel. Great, just great. He’d made a mobster mad. He might as well have waved a flag in front of a bull.
He was about to call him back when an email flashed on his screen, again from the delivery company. Trying to keep his eyes on the road, he managed a quick glance. En route for an early delivery. We expect the package to arrive at the Allegro by five.
Fucking A.
Could anything more go awry today? First the seller was molasses slow. Now, the delivery company was far too fast.
He’d have to deal with the problems one by one. He called the delivery company, but was met with a voicemail. So not what he needed.
But then he realized he didn’t need to reach them. He simply needed to reach someone who’d intercept the package. He sure as hell didn’t want Julia’s paws on the special gift he’d tracked down. She’d figure out somehow that it was part of a bigger gift. It was designed to be a part of the whole damn proposal, and with everything that had already been screwed sideways today, he needed the proposal to go smoothly. He wanted her to be surprised and he was using this gift to throw her off the scent. Then bam, he’d slide into home.