JACK: Las Vegas Bad Boys(63)

God, just thinking of all the people in here.... Ace, the owner of this place, Landon and his tycoon parents, JoJo’s dad and brothers all came tonight.

Fuck.

I try not to think about who else might be here. Kendrick from KMG is here, and he’s the highest-profile record producer in the world.

This is a disaster. It could be a slaughter. I know how ruthless and vengeful the Brotherhood is.

No wonder the security guards aren’t closing in on them right now. They’re outnumbered.

“It’s time you pay me for what you took, Cammie.” He spits the words at me, and I hear his boots stepping closer.

“I took nothing from you,” I say, steeling my voice, wishing I could see him, see anything. Usually at Jack’s shows clubbers hold their cellphones in the air using the screens as flashlights, but no one is standing now. No one is flashing anything, because no one wants to draw attention to themselves.

“You took my wife’s life. Murdered your own mother.”

“That bullet was meant for you. And she wasn’t my mother.”

“Ah, so you finally discovered the secrets of your past, while you’ve been whoring yourself through Vegas the same way you did on the compound.”

“I’m not a whore,” I scream in the blackness.

“You can shout that all you want, but that doesn’t change the facts.”

I can smell his dirt and his leather-soaked sins. I can smell his filth and his hate, and I want to pummel him in the chest. I want to make him get away. I want him to never touch me again.

“You were your mother’s when she came to the compound; she was a whore like you and needed a home.”

I can tell he’s less than a few feet from me, and as my eyes adjust to the light I can see the bandana covering his face, muffling his words, but not enough so I can’t hear him. I hear him clear as day.

His long, white hair shines in the dark, and I hate that he is all I see.

He keeps talking and I step back, not wanting him to touch me.

“But we all knew the stories your mother told, how she took you because she wanted a daughter. That bitch was crazy and I knew I needed to keep her and her wild mouth close. Well, that, and she was a good fuck.”

I brace myself to be strong, to be reckless. To take action. But I have no means of defense. No weapon, no way of knowing how many people are behind him, ready to shoot. We all heard the gunfire when the club was brought under siege.

“I don’t care about her,” I scream, “or you. You both tried to ruin me. But you can’t.”

I hear a gun cock, see the silver gleaming in the dark.

“Oh, fuck that, Cammie,” he says. “I can ruin you if I damn well please.”





Chapter Twenty-Five





JACK


The show began like the rest, only I wanted this one to be memorable. Unforgettable.

I remember scanning the crowd for Tess, wanting somehow, some way, to see her face in the sea of people. It was impossible, of course. The strobe lights were bright; the dancers around me impeded my view. This night, this music, wasn’t about me.

It was about the people who came here looking to escape.

That’s why everyone comes to Vegas, looking for something they can’t find anywhere else.

For me, I came here looking for something I didn’t even know I was missing.

But I found her. Found Tess.

And now, in a flash, in a gunshot, in a blackout, in an instant … I lost her.

I can’t see Tess. I can’t see anyone. I know she is here.

And I need to fucking find my woman.

I rip off my headset, but don’t bother with the mic. I need to get off this stage and get to my girl. The club is full of people, but they’ve dropped to the ground. I can’t see a fucking thing, but then I remember my phone, and slide on the flashlight. At first I scan the club with it, but quickly realize why no one else is.

This thing could get me killed.

Still, I try to think of what I could do to get us help, because it seems like this entire club is on lockdown.

I swallow, realizing that the one thing I promised I’d never, ever do, I must.

I begin to record everything that’s happening with the fucking Periscope app that broadcasted the sex tape.

I carry the phone in my hand, willing whoever started this mess not to notice me as I climb off the stage, ninja-style.

I know how to get to the VIP section where my friends are seated, and I crawl toward it, silently moving up the bank of stairs against the back wall.

Once at the top, I drop to my knees, and see three security guard shot, on the ground.

Rounding the corner toward the section where I know my friends are, I see them on the floor. McQueen makes eye contact with me, and I realize everyone is silent because they’re listening to the conversation a few yards away.