KING: Las Vegas Bad Boys(75)

I’m speechless. I want to murder the man who laid his fingers on my fiancée.

“The old divorce paperwork is in my room; let me get it,” Eva says. “She tried to throw it out, but I went through the trash and got it. She signed it and everything, but was so traumatized she couldn’t take the next steps.”

“No doubt. This man abused her, and then made her feel like she had no voice. Men like him are weak and should be fucking punished. He’s a fucking bastard,” McQueen says.

I look at him, wondering what story is in his past that makes him stand up for women who’ve been abused. It makes me proud to call him a fucking friend.

Eva returns after a minute, with a folder. “Here are the documents.”

“His name is fucking Robert Mackle?” Jack asks. “Isn’t he a football player? Robbie Mackle? Think he’s the same guy?”

“Holy shit, you’re right,” McQueen says, taking the marriage certificate from Jack’s hand. “He played for the Salt Lake Runners for two years, until he injured himself a year ago.”

“Does Claire know that?” I ask Eva.

“I don’t think so. She said his name to me once, and she said it was Bobby Mac. I had no idea.”

“Jack, do you think the security guys at your club might have any contacts who do private investigations?” I ask.

“Of course. I can have guys on this in ten minutes.”

“And then we need to go speak with Ace’s lawyer, Mark Denzel,” I say. “He’ll know the next steps. Claire will be a free woman soon.”



Five hours later, I’m drinking another cup of coffee, fighting to keep my eyes open; the day has been so long. I just want to get back to Claire.

I want her to know I don’t hold her past against her—but I also need to tell her that if she thinks we’re going to be … something, then she needs to trust me. No more secrets.

And once she agrees I’ll wrap my arms around her, hold her so close, and make love to her all night. I need her skin on mine, and need her to remember that I am her fucking man. She can trust me with anything.

But we still have a fucking shit-ton to deal with before I can get on a plane.

McQueen and Jack are rock solid. They have been all day.

Jack’s investigator found out pretty quickly that Robert Mackle, injured NFL receiver, spent a year in Vegas five years ago. Had an apartment in his name, along with the name of his wife, Claire Mackle.

When I saw the file the P.I. accumulated in a few hours, I thought I was going to be sick.

Claire and Sophia deserve better than that piece of shit.

Denzel takes it in stride, having our back without question. “It’s going to be okay, Landon. Mackle’s going to want to settle quietly, and I’ve spoken with Claire. She doesn’t want money; she just wants to get the divorce.”

I clench my jaw, pissed that Claire hasn’t returned my calls all day. “You spoke with her?” I ask Denzel.

He nods. “Yes, and she was very clear and straightforward about the divorce.”

“Good.” It gives me a bit of breathing room to know she was being honest about wanting to end things with Mackle.

“She was. In fact, when I asked her about settling for money she told me she didn’t want to do anything for money, ever again.” Denzel shrugs. “Whatever that means.”

I know exactly what that means. The deal she and I struck was all about money, about a big payday.

She doesn’t want that.

And now, she won’t answer my calls.

Maybe she doesn’t want me either.

“So then,” Denzel says, “all we need to discuss is this property you’ve purchased. You want to draw up an LLC?”

“Yes, and we need to get accounts set up,” Jack says. “Ace and I are both putting in fifty percent of the capital, and we need our GM to begin receiving a paycheck, stat.”

“Now, this is separate from the property, right?” Denzel asks. “McQueen, you invested in that as well, correct?”

“Right, Landon and I both did. But we’re sad fuckers, we gots no more dough. So. These guys are ponying up the money for the club.”

“And the General Manager is Landon. He needs a paycheck to show his woman he has a legit job,” Jack says, smiling. “Though when she hears you’re part owner of a strip club ... not sure she’s gonna be too pleased.”

“Oh, she’ll love this strip club,” I say, laughing for the first time all day. “Just gotta make sure McQueen here isn’t headlining when she comes.”

“Awkward much, right?” McQueen says, smiling.

The guys loved my idea for the business, and now we could get the hell out of Vegas and get home.