McQUEEN:Las Vegas Bad Boys(14)

“I know, but I’ve avoided bringing guys into my life for a reason. I don’t want to drag you into my drama.”

“Well, if your plan is to go home and tell your father about the pervert taking your picture at a gym he doesn’t know you’re training at, he’s gonna be looking for me, ready to kick my ass, in about five minutes flat.”

“I know.” She rolls over and sits up, wrapping the bed sheets around her. “That was why I thought if I explained things, but also made sure he knows you and I will never happen again, then maybe he wouldn’t kill you.”

“Are we talking literally or figuratively—because, JoJo, what the fuck?”

She throws her hands in the air, looking overwhelmed, but damned cute, too. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I want to retreat. Figure this out on my own. You don’t need my crap. That’s why I wanted a no-strings-attached thing with you in the first place. I knew that was all I could offer, all you wanted. It was supposed to be a perfect one-time affair.”

“Then you ended up in my bed.”

“And before that some creeper took photos of us in the locker room. That’s intense. Which is why I should tell my father.”

“It’s insane,” I agree. “But running home to daddy and telling him we fucked isn’t going to solve anything. I know you’re an O’Malley and shit, I’m not gonna press you to tell me more about your family tree—I just can’t have some guy showing up and kicking my ass this week, of all weeks. So maybe don’t mention the photo until you have to.”

“What’s happening this week?” she asks.

“Hearts Royalle is opening. I’m the featured stripper. Have you missed seeing my fucking ass on every billboard in this town? I can’t have any bruises, no black eyes. My friends have all invested in this business and my ass is literally on the line.”

Her eyes are wide as she suppresses a smile. “I’ve seen the billboards. I didn’t know your friends were fronting the money for it.” Falling back into the bed, she blows air from her cheeks. “Maybe call your PI. If he has a lead, it could buy us some time. It’s not that I want to tell my dad, but I also don’t want any messes for my family. But if we can figure out who took the picture without involving him, yeah, that would be ideal.”

“You’re loyal, JoJo. Sounds like telling them about us would ruin things with your pops … yet you’re willing to do it if it’s for their best interest. That takes fucking balls.”

“Speaking of balls….” She covers her face, but I see her eyes through her fingers. “Did I do that okay … when I, you know … sucked you off?” She’s blushing and smothers her face in a pillow.

“Don’t play coy with me. You know I fucking liked it.” I pull her from the pillow, and we face one another, sitting on the bed. I take her hands in mine, lace our fingers. “I liked it, JoJo.”

“Josephine. That’s my full name.” She leans in and kisses me quickly, like it’s something we’ve done a thousand times.

“Ryan and Josephine. Has a ring to it, don’t you think?” I ask. When she doesn’t answer, I add, “We will see one another again, right?”

“I don’t know. It was supposed to be a one-off for a reason.”

Her lack of certainty feels like a punch in the gut. Shit, I’m falling for this girl after twenty-four hours—and I fall for no one.

Yet JoJo is managing to play it so damn cool.

“No pressure,” I tell her. “I know what you wanted. I just thought, after everything, that maybe you’d want more.”

“It’s not that I don’t. It’s just I have a lot of other stuff going on. Which I said like thirty minutes ago.” JoJo stands from the bed, looking for her clothes. “Would you call the PI while I take a shower? And then … hopefully the news is good and I can go.”

I run my hand through my hair, watching as she rifles through her gym bag for clothes. Wishing that she were willing to give me more, even though I know she owes me nothing.

She finds what looks like clean shorts and a tank top, and waits for an answer.

“Sure,” I tell her. “I’ll call him right now.”

I pick up my phone to make the call, but what I really want to do is make her mine.





JoJo


Looking out the bedroom window I see a sleek, black SUV on the street at the side of the house. McQueen really did get surveillance here. It impresses me; last night I was so out of it, falling asleep without even confirming that we were safe. He told me had it covered, and I trusted him explicitly.

What does that say about me? That I’m a naive fool to trust him so quickly? Or does it say something good, something good about the man I have unexpectedly let into my life?

Yesterday’s post-workout decision to go all the way with Ryan McQueen has turned my life upside down. But I’ve been at his house too long. I need to get out of here, get home to some clean clothes, have a real conversation with Lucy, and get to the gym by noon.

I turn from the window as he ends his call. “Does the investigator have a lead?”

“Guess he met with Kit an hour ago. They went through the gym, found nothing there.” He must see my face fall, because he raises his hands, to stop me from being further disappointed. “But they’re gonna keep looking. It’s okay.”

I grab my bag, tossing it over my shoulder. Any comfort I’ve found with McQueen flies out the window. It’s like I’ve been given a huge wake-up call.

“Alright,” I tell him. “Well, that helps me like, not at all. I appreciate the effort, and you’ve been amazing—like really amazing, Ryan. But it’s not enough. I’ve told you how much my family means to me. And if someone is coming after me, I need them in the loop. I should have never slept with you—with anyone—because I just knew it would get messy. That’s the reason I never did before. And it was dumb of me to think that what I’ve been doing at Kit’s would stay a secret. I got caught in my lies, and it actually serves me right.”

McQueen snorts, shaking his head. “Fuck that. You’re not some little girl who owes her family an explanation of where you work out, JoJo. I don’t get it. Don’t get you. On one hand you’re crazy badass, telling Kit last night you wanted a real professional fight, soon. And now you’re giving it all up. For what?”

“That was before I knew I had some freaky stalker.”

“Okay, I’m out, then,” he says, throwing his hands in the air. “What am I supposed to do here, beg you to let me fucking handle it? No. I don’t beg girls. I don’t fucking beg anyone.”

“Then it sounds like we’re on the same page. I don’t need your help. I have enough men in my life who can help me.” I leave the room, headed toward the stairs. I need to get home.

He follows me into the kitchen, where I grab my keys. “Right,” he says sharply. “Sounds like those men really have your best interests at heart.”

I pull open the door leading to the garage. “You know nothing about my family.”

“I know they’re tied up in the fucking Irish Mob.”

I stop, turn to him. “What else do you know?”

“Nothing.” He crosses his arms, shrugs, as if he’s given up. On me. With good reason—I’ve just pushed him away as hard as I could. “You’ve given me no information whatsoever. I only know what Ace told me. That the name O’Malley has Mob ties. Not sure what the Irish Mob is doing in Las Vegas, but I don’t fucking know anything about this town. And look, I don’t know your involvement. Like I said, I’m not gonna fucking beg.”

I can tell from his expression that he really doesn’t know any more. McQueen isn’t dangerous, because he has no information. And neither does his investigator. It will be better to tell my family about this now, before anything blows up.

“I don’t have any more to say. Thank you for everything,” I tell him as sincerely as possible. “And I’ll see you around, okay?”

“I hate that you’re leaving like this.”

“What, you wanted to make me coffee and eggs?” I look at him sadly, knowing he’s a good guy but that, deep down, a girl like me is not what he wants. He doesn’t want a relationship at all—not that I’m in any position to even lay that on the table. I’m getting married to a convict next month.

“McQueen, you’re living the bachelor dream right now. You don’t even have a kitchen table. I doubt you have groceries. Let’s chalk this up to a life experience, and move on.”

“So you’re going home, telling your dad you lost your virginity, and that you’re done fighting? Just like that? I mean, on the creepy scale, this is pretty fucking high.”

“God. Enough, Ryan. Seriously, stop judging me and my life. I’m not standing here judging you. You take your clothes off for a living, yet I’m the one who’s the weirdo? Not fair. At all.”

I press the garage opener, and unlock my car. Throwing my bag in the backseat, I put the car in reverse, refusing to unroll the windows as McQueen asks me to stop.