Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
“Let’s discuss this outside.”
She took a step back, shielding her body with her arms. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Who the hell do you think you are?”
I took back the space between us and whispered in her ear. “I’m the guy who just saved your ass. And if you don’t leave now, I’ll tell this whole bar just how much you’ve stolen in here tonight.”
Her shoulders went rigid, and when she pulled back to look at me, she knew I meant it.
“I’ll leave on my own,” she announced. “Thank you very much.”
She scooped up the hem of her white dress, which was now stained with beer and crumpled peanut shells, and then sauntered out the door. I followed, keeping my distance just so I could watch her get safely into a taxi.
She waved at the cabbie and poked her head inside to ask if he was available before flinging herself into the back seat and shutting the door. She gave him the address, and then out of curiosity, she looked back at the door to find me standing there. I didn’t stop her before they drove away.
I’d see her again soon.
THE DUSTY, HEAD-IN-OVEN VARIETY OF heat hit me as I strode from McCarren International Airport’s baggage claim with my Kate Spade luggage in tow. Even though Birdie was late—again—a familiar warmth bloomed in my chest as I stood on the curb and inhaled the exhaust fumes and cigarette smoke.
I was finally home.
It had been three weeks since I’d set foot in Sin City, and I missed it. Something about the constant lights and noise and obnoxious heat of this place attracted lost souls. A few years ago, I was one of them. Las Vegas had spoiled me with the glitz and glamour, and it didn’t matter how many places I visited—nothing else ever compared.
My almost marriage to Graham Darby kept me away for longer than I’d anticipated, but thanks to him, Birdie and I would be sitting pretty for at least a year. I could probably even take a vacation, but who was I kidding? I loved the con too much to quit.
As I checked my bank account to ensure Graham had fulfilled his end of the bargain, I couldn’t help but notice that I had an admirer edging closer to me on the curb. He had the subtlety of a shark circling blood-infested waters, and if he weren’t wearing department store khakis, I might have taken the bait.
Ignoring him, I sent Graham a quick email, letting him know that the photographic evidence of his affair would be delivered by six this evening, and he could do with it what he wished.
It was a clean break, and we both came out better for it. Though I probably could have squeezed even more out of him, in the end, I knew when I was pushing my luck. Dealing with powerful men was a dangerous game, but I hadn’t lost yet.
The insufferable vocals of tween pop preceded the flash of red that alerted me to Birdie. Pulling up in the red Audi TTS I bought her last year, she popped her bubblegum and waved for me to get in.
“Sorry, sorry, I know,” she said. “I’m always late.”
With a pink tipped fingernail, she pressed the button that opened the trunk, and my admirer rushed to help me put my bags in.
“Thanks,” I murmured.
Once he finished stuffing my suitcases inside, his eyes didn’t miss the opportunity to roam over my fitted yellow romper and gold stilettos.
“My name’s Kevin,” he offered.
I struggled not to roll my eyes. “Hi, Kevin.”
“Do you have a name?” he teased.
“My name is you can’t afford me, sweetie, so I’m going to save you the trouble of working up the courage to ask me out.”
I didn’t wait for his reply, but I heard it nonetheless. Regardless, I laughed it off. I’d been called worse things than a bitch by guys far more intimidating than Kevin.
“Another one bites the dust, huh?” Birdie laughed as I shut the door, and she gunned it out of the clustered pickup zone.
“He might need some therapy, but I’m sure he’ll survive.”
Birdie turned down the music and gave me a quick once-over before replacing her oversized Coach sunglasses. “How was New York?”
“Crowded, loud, obnoxious.” I sighed.
“C’mon, Gyps,” she whined. “You know I don’t like it when you make me ask a million questions. Just tell me about the money. Did you score big?”
I examined my little sister from the passenger seat, wishing for the thousandth time she’d never found out what I actually did to support us. It was my job to protect her, and even if she was nineteen, Birdie didn’t have the skills to survive this world on her own.
She had grown far too excited when talking about my cons with me, and I needed her to know that it wasn’t exciting. At least, it shouldn’t be for her. It was dangerous. In reality, it was the most dangerous job I could possibly pull off, and every time I went into a con, I never knew if I’d come out alive. But I did it for us.