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McQUEEN:Las Vegas Bad Boys(11)

By:Frankie Love


“I’m past my curfew.” I shake my head. What twenty-three-year-old woman talks this way? “Let me call Lucy and see if she can cover for me.”

“Will your dad care that you aren’t at his house?”

“They know Lucy.” I grab my phone from my gym bag. “You call your security people, and I’ll deal with this.”

He nods and turns to make a call, and I text Lucy.

Me: Don’t freak. I’m at a guy’s house. He’s safe, from the gym. And I’m using you as my cover to my dad.

Lucy responds right away, like a good friend … as opposed to whatever I am. Just seeing her name on my phone screen calms me down. Yes, there is some psycho taking pictures of me in the locker room, but I also just lost my V-card and I have to tell my best friend.

Lucy: IS THIS JOJO??? Bc the Jo I know has never stayed with a guy in the three years I’ve known her. DO YOU HAVE A CONDOM? DID YOU ALREADY USE A CONDOM??

Me: Yes. Shut up. I’ll explain tomorrow.

I feel the heat rise to my cheeks.

Lucy: I’m freaking out right now WTF??!!! Who is this man??

I pause my typing, already feeling I’m a shit friend for ditching her tonight to help my sister. But I would be an even worse friend for holding back this information.

Me: McQueen.

Lucy: THE EFFING STRIPPER??? OMG WHO ARE YOU???

Me: I love you. Sorry for being so flakey. I know. It’s all insane.

Lucy: Is he there right now???

Me: He’s in the kitchen. But I have to go. My dad is probably freaking out.

Lucy: Well don’t want to piss off daddy.

Me You know my family, Luc.

Lucy: I know. Sorry. It’s all good. Call tomorrow. Xo.

I close my messages and debate calling my dad or texting.

McQueen is talking to someone in a muffled voice, his back facing me. It would all be easier if I just told him what was what, but I hardly know him. I was friends with Lucy for two years before I came clean-ish with her … and that was only because she knew something was up after stopping by my house and seeing my brothers packing heat.

Still, she doesn’t know about my dad, what he really does, where our money is really from. She’s a sweet but clueless girl from Orange County who moved here for college and didn’t leave. She works as a barista and lives with three roommates. She isn’t dangerous to the family.

But McQueen’s connections are different. His best friend is Ace, who has mafia ties himself. I know that Grotto—my husband-to-freaking-be—hates him. I know that my brothers joked about taking him out for being such a douchebag. I know that everyone I live with thinks guys like Ace are the ruin of the mob. Ace thinks he’s slick, but he doesn’t seem to know about the target on his back. One wrong move, and people will come after him.

I have no idea how much McQueen knows about Ace’s claim in the Italian mob, if he wanted it. Which makes the place I am standing really dangerous.

I open my contacts and dial. It picks up right away.

“Dad?” I say.

“Where are you?” he says into the phone. “Do I need to put a dog collar on you?”

“Sorry, I know it’s late.”

“You are an asset we can’t damage right now. Grotto’s father wants his son to marry a princess, not a whore.”

“I’m not doing anything.” I squeeze my eyes shut, stressed out with the amount of complications in my life right now. All I want is to get an MMA fight, yet I’m dealing with my old-school father and an arranged marriage. How is this my life? “Listen, Dad, I’m with Lucy. She isn’t feeling well and I’m going to stay with her tonight, okay?”

“Josephine, it’s after midnight. You know the rules.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for anyone to worry.”

“This is why you need to be married. You need a man to keep tabs on you.”

“I know.” I say what I know he wants to hear

“If Grotto’s out in a month, I need to keep a better eye on you. Tomorrow, we’re having a talk, with your brothers, about security.”

“Okay.”

I hang up, and slump onto the leather couch. I don’t want to face tomorrow at all. Filling Lucy in, I can handle. My family, though, is more than I can bear on my own.





Chapter Nine





McQUEEN


When I get off the phone, I notice JoJo curled up on the couch, her eyes closed. She looks worn out—and fuck, after her workout today I’m not surprised. Combine that with the shit that went down tonight, and no wonder this girl is asleep on my couch.

I drop my phone on the counter and walk to the front door of my house.

When I spoke with Ace he was more than a little concerned. The moment I said JoJo’s last name, he didn’t hesitate.

“This girl is trouble, McQueen. The O’Malleys are as bad as Grotto and his guys. I don’t know how connected she is, her role in that family … but if you know what’s good for you, stay away.”

“It could be a coincidence,” I told him. “She could be a distant cousin. Or just happen to have the same name.”

“Could be. But don’t get blinded by her body. If she’s a part of the Irish Mob, her family doesn’t mess around. The family that runs those gambling rings, they’re some crazy motherfuckers. The guys—Peter, John, and … I forget the other one—those guys are worse than fucking Grotto. They’re sketchy as hell. I won’t let them on my property. I don’t trust them at all.”

“JoJo isn’t like that. She’s innocent. Sweet.”

“Fuck, you’re already got your head up your ass for her.”

“It’s not like that. We aren’t anything.”

Which is true. Isn’t it? She insisted on no-strings, and fuck, that’s all I ever want, too. But another part of me wants to make sure JoJo is safe. Taken care of. Part of me wants to find whoever took the picture that freaked her out so bad, and fucking beat the daylights out of them.

“Whatever, McQueen.” Ace laughs into the phone. “Listen, I’ll send a crew over, because if someone wants this girl it won’t take long for them to get what they’re after.”

I look out the window, scanning the street for any movement. I see a black SUV making its way into the neighborhood. They park in front of my place and flash their lights twice, signaling to me it’s the guys Ace sent over.

Good. JoJo can sleep soundly tonight. Tomorrow, I’ve gotta get these guys over to Kit’s Gym to check out the place. Who knows what sort of surveillance the sick fuck who took this photo has rigged up?

“McQueen?” JoJo calls for me. There’s fear in her voice, and I rush back into the living room to make sure she’s okay.

“What is it?” I ask, kneeling next to the couch.

“Sorry. I just woke up and didn’t see you. I’m an idiot and got scared.”

I’m not gonna force this girl to talk, but shit, she is all spun up. “You aren’t an idiot.”

She sits up, and sighs. “My dad thinks I am. He just chewed me out.”

“Fuck. Sorry. Did you talk to Lucy, too?”

“Yeah. I told Lucy I was with you, and told my dad I was with her. It’s like I’m in high school and sneaking out.”

“More like middle school,” I say, smiling.

“You were always a rebel, then?” she asks, smirking.

I shrug. “Nights always seem to find trouble. No matter how old you are.”

“I don’t want any more trouble tonight,” she says. “I want to sleep.”

“Then let’s get you to bed. The security team is here; we’re safe.”

I take her hand and pull her up. She nods, and follows my lead.

“I have a guest room across from mine,” I tell her as we take the stairs. “You can sleep there.”

“Oh. Okay.”

I swear there’s a hint of disappointment in her voice. I’ll fucking take an in wherever I can find one with this girl.

“You want to sleep with me? Is that what you’re saying?” I ask, both of us stopping in the doorway to the guest room.

“I know you said there are security guys out front … but I’d still feel better if I weren’t alone.” She pauses, looking at her toes. “Maybe that sounds forward. I don’t know. I just—I don’t want to be by myself.” She rushes forward with her words. “We don’t have to do anything if that’s what you’re worried about.”

I step toward her, pushing her gently to the other side of the hall. To my room.

“Oh, I’m not worried at all.” I grin, pulling my tee-shirt over my head. “I’m gonna sleep next to you, and you’re gonna dream of me all night long—and when you wake up, all nice and rested, I’m gonna teach you how to suck my cock, just like you asked.”

JoJo lets out a soft moan, as if remembering her words back at the gym earlier tonight. Or maybe she’s just enjoying my ripped abs, the way my shorts hang low on my waist, narrowing into my massive cock—the one she doesn’t get until tomorrow. Because tonight this girl needs to sleep.





JoJo


McQueen and I stand in his barren bedroom. A king-sized mattress is situated in the middle, on the floor, covered with blankets. A pile of folded laundry is in a corner, and an open closet reveals a walk-in closet, mostly empty.