Excerpt from Rock Steady
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Sin City was his city.
Rock drummer Trevor Hughes glanced out the window of the band’s private plane as it glided in for a landing at Harry Reid International Airport in Las Vegas. The flight from Los Angeles after tonight’s show had taken a little more than and hour, and the lights of the Strip were clearly visible from his side of the plane – which was why he’d chosen this particular seat. The garish neon signs that adorned every hotel and billboard along this stretch of Las Vegas Boulevard were as good as bread crumbs for someone who’d been away for nearly three months.
They beckoned to him, proclaiming this way home.
A small smile tugged at his lips. His band’s first concert here in Vegas was two days away. Plenty of time to indulge in his vices, to sin in his city.
“Last two shows of the tour, and they’re in your own town. Bet you’re glad to be home, boss.”
Trevor turned to his security guy, Zander, lounging in the seat next to him. “It’d be better if I could sleep in my own bed, but I’ll get there soon enough.”
Las Vegas was worlds away from the small town in England where Trevor had grown up, but he loved this city so much he’d made it his permanent residence. He owned a house out on Lake Las Vegas, but since he was still technically on tour, he’d be staying at the band hotel. It was easier for security that way.
“We headed to a casino as soon as we check in?” Zander asked.
Trevor nodded. “You know it, mate.”
The plane’s wheels greased the tarmac with hardly a bump, and a few minutes later rolled to a smooth stop at the small terminal designed for private aircraft. Less than an hour after that, he and Zander were standing in Trevor’s favorite casino.
The nearest blackjack table was empty, the dealer absently picking lint off the felt top while waiting for potential players. Trevor headed toward it, with Z trailing behind.
“Jerry,” he acknowledged, as he pulled out a chair.
The dealer looked up and smiled. “Mr. Hughes. Nice to see you. Up for a game?”
“Several,” Trevor answered as he sat. He put his pile of chips on the table, while Zander took up a casual – but calculated – position behind his chair.
“Excellent,” the dealer said. “Place your bet.”
Trevor took five of the one-hundred-dollar chips he’d gotten a minute ago from the cashier and stacked them in front of him.
The dealer slid one card from the deck and flipped it over in front of Trevor. It was the king of spades. Trevor smiled. Good start.
Jerry slid another card from the deck and placed it in front of himself, then dealt Trevor a second card. The ace of diamonds.
Instant blackjack.
Trevor wanted to crow with excitement. This was an omen. He was in for a good night.
​
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An hour later, Trevor was down to his last few chips. Almost five-thousand dollars in the hole. His gambler’s high had turned into a loser’s low.
At least Zander – still standing guard silently behind his chair – knew enough to keep his mouth shut.
“Well, well, well…”
That familiar but unexpected voice made the blood in Trevor’s veins turn to ice. He shifted his gaze to see the last person in the world he wanted to run into tonight.
Harry the Tool. His loan shark.
Dressed in a navy-blue pinstripe suit, Harry was sauntering toward him with two of his goons following close behind. He came to stand at Trevor’s right shoulder, while the goons casually flanked Zander, neutralizing any help his security guy might have given him.
“Fancy meeting you here, Sticks.”
​ If there was one thing Trevor hated, it was being called ‘Sticks’ just because he played the drums. But the despised nickname was the least of his problems right now. He owed Harry a hell of a lot of money.
“Hey, Harry,” he said reluctantly. “How’re you doing?”
The burly guy smirked. “Depends. How you doin’? Winning me back my money?”
Trevor fiddled with the last few chips in front of him. “Not exactly. But soon.”
Harry snorted. “You owe me half a mil. How soon is soon?”
“The tour ends Monday. You’ll get your money as soon as I get my share of the profits.”
“I better.” Harry paused, and then made a disgusted sound. “Guys like you think you shit gold with your glamorous life and your private planes and your fancy hotels. But you, my friend, are a pathetic loser, no better than any other lowlife I deal with.”
Trevor might owe Harry a boatload of cash, but he didn’t have to take the loan shark’s verbal abuse. Scowling, he turned to face Harry to tell him as much, but his anger instantly evaporated, replaced by an odd shortness of breath and an unexpected pounding of his heart.
The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen was moving to stand behind Harry. She had flawless light brown skin with a face that hinted of Asian heritage. Perfectly arched brows. Deep onyx eyes. And a beautiful bow of a mouth – painted a deep crimson.
The beauty never so much as spared him a glance, never so much as spared any of the men a glance. In fact, she looked absolutely bored. Expressionless.
“Hey, Sticks,” Harry growled, snapping his fingers in front of Trevor’s nose. “Eyes on me unless you want to lose ’em.” The loan shark threw a glance over his shoulder to see what had captured Trevor’s attention so completely, and then turned back with a smirk on his face.
“Unless… unless maybe you want some company tonight?”
Trevor’s head snapped around to see Harry arching an interested eyebrow.
Trevor blinked. The woman was a high-class escort? And the loan shark was her pimp?
Of course she had to be a call girl. She was too exquisite to be anything else.
The surge of heat that raced through his body was unlike anything Trevor had ever felt. If this woman was available, he had to have her. “How much?” he growled.
The smirk on Harry’s face grew wider. “Three thousand an hour. Cash only. Not letting you go more into debt to me.”
Trevor hesitated for only a fraction of a second.
“Deal.” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the remainder of his wad of money, glancing away from the stunning beauty only long enough to count out three thousand in bills that he shoved carelessly into Harry’s hand.
Harry pocketed the cash, then rolled his eyes. “A fool and his money… Oh, well. Come on, guys.” As he led his goons away, Harry glanced back over his shoulder. “Send her down to the lobby in an hour when you’re through with her.”
This night was ending better than Trevor could have imagined.
​
#
Dear God, this was it.
Her first night as a call girl.
DeeDee Alester struggled not to show her fear as she rode up in the elevator with the man who had just purchased her services for an hour. He must be a high roller to have agreed to Harry’s price without so much as batting an eye
Three thousand dollars.
From underneath her eyelashes, she stole a quick glance at the man next to her. Tall, black hair, with a decent body as far as she could tell. Mr. Sticks, Harry had called him. Thank God her first john was actually a good-looking guy. If Harry had sold her to some ugly old man for her first time out, she’d be fighting down an urge to throw up.
Actually, that’s exactly the way she felt. How on earth was she going to do this?
But there was no other choice. She owed Harry too much money, and this was how she was going to pay him back.
The soft ding of the elevator signaled they’d arrived at the designated floor, and DeeDee had to force herself to breathe at all. Mr. Sticks waved a hand for her to precede him out of the elevator and down the hallway, an oddly polite gesture. She struggled to balance on her four-inch stiletto heels as she tried to sway sexily on her way to her doom.
“Here.”
The quiet command stopped her in her tracks. They were standing outside a hotel suite door now, and the black-haired man took out his key card and swiped it against a metal reader. The door unlocked with a soft click.
DeeDee started to feel a little lightheaded.
Mr. Sticks pushed open the door and once again ushered her in first. His politeness gave DeeDee a small hope that he wasn’t going to ask for anything kinky tonight. Not that she wouldn’t do whatever he requested. Harry had made that quite clear.
She struggled to keep her face a perfect blank as she entered the suite.
“Bedroom’s this way,” he said.
She swallowed hard and followed him to the bedroom, laying her clutch on top of a dresser and turning to face him.
The heated look on his face made her whole body start to shake.
Please, God, let me get through this next hour.
© by Leigh Court