Sucker Bet (8 page)

They had all night.

She had nowhere to be.

She'd had several pints of blood before heading out to meet Slash.

And her brother and ex-husband were somewhere else.

"I think I just might like that." Gwenna kissed him deeply. "The massage rooms don't have cameras."

"Lead the way."

She just loved the sound of that.

Ringo Columbia sat in the ugly chair Kelsey had picked out for their new apartment and tried to focus on the two men in front of him.

Maybe he'd used a little too much this time, because he had the serious feeling that he was going to throw up. Just lean forward and hurl out all that blood, all that heroin, all his innards and breath and control. He hated this pain, this nausea, hated that no one would just leave him the fuck alone.

"Go away," he told Donatelli's bodyguards, Smith and Williams.

"You know we can't do that," Williams said, shaking his thick head back and forth. "You've got to return the stuff or pay for it."

"I can't return it." He'd shot up almost all of it, desperate enough that he'd skipped his preferred method of drinking his heroin in blood. This time he'd been so hungry for it, he'd just taken a needle and arm-popped it, not even looking for a vein. "And I don't have the money. So go away."

That would be the best thing, if they would just get out and leave him alone. He wanted to be alone. That seemed easy enough to him. Just open the door and disappear. But they wouldn't and it made him feel bitter as hell. What the fuck did he ever do to them?

Williams nailed him in the face with his fist, the force snapping Ringo's head back while Smith started a search of the apartment, ripping open their kitchen cabinets and desk drawers. Kelsey was going to be pissed. She worked her skinny ass off keeping their place clean and filled with weird little decorative shit, like pictures of apples and stands with scented candles. He could never figure out what was so great about having their house stink like cinnamon all the time, but she dug it.

Ringo should move out of the chair. He should stand up and kill both of the ugly motherfuckers, just take them out. He was faster and smarter and he should be able to fix this.

But he couldn't stand, not when he felt so sick and strung out, and the hazy sleepiness blanketed over the stomach rot and pounding skull. He took another hit to the head, and he groaned at the pain, leaning over the side of the chair and puking on the carpet.

Williams made a sound of disgust and stepped back. Good. Ringo hoped he'd leave, but the front door opened and he heard Kelsey's voice.

"What's going on here?"

"Hey, baby," he said, struggling to keep his eyes open. It would be so much easier to just let them close, to fall asleep and have the voices and the pain disappear.

Cold water hit him in the face. "Shit!" He jerked upright in the chair. His wife had thrown a glass of water all over him. "What the hell was that for?"

She stood there, her skinny legs apart, full lips pursed, the empty glass in her hand. "While you're just sitting there sleeping, they're wrecking our apartment."

"I wasn't sleeping." Was he? He wasn't sure. Now that he looked around, it seemed like Smith had made a lot of progress on destroying the room. There were cushions, papers, drawers pulled out everywhere.

"Okay, so you've been resting your eyes for the last ten minutes. Whatever. Call it what you want. Now get these guys out of here, Ringo." Her voice veered into whining. He really hated when she whined.

"I'd love to, but I don't think they're going to leave without their money, babe. Got any cash?"

Her shoulders slumped, her sexy little black shirt shifting over and exposing her shoulder. Ringo thought Kelsey was just the prettiest little stupid woman he'd ever met, though her brand of stupid was different than true dumbness. Kelsey was more random than idiotic, and she had some really killer qualities that he liked. He really did love her. He liked the way she giggled. But damn it, she wasn't giggling much anymore. That was a big-ass shame. She was a good giggler.

"No, I don't have any money." Kelsey turned to Smith. "How much?"

"Two grand."

"Ringo!" Her horrified expression made him ashamed, which made him angry.

"What? I just needed a little, Kels. That's all. You know what that's like." Hell, she'd been a user herself when she was a mortal. So fuck her. She wasn't any better than he was.

"Can you give us some time?" she asked Williams. "A couple of weeks?"

"I don't think so." The asshole shook his head and took one of Kelsey's scented candles and tossed it up in the air with his thick hands. "You'd have to really motivate me to risk Donatelli getting pissed at me for failing to deliver right away."

"What? A cut for you?"

"Maybe."

Ringo realized that Williams was leering at his wife, rolling his eyes up and down over her body. He sat up straighten Maybe they could take advantage of that, keep the monkey off their back for a few weeks. "So what if Kelsey did a favor for both of you?"

"What kind of favor?"

There were limits on what he'd let these losers do to his wife, but a little oral sex had never killed anyone, and it would give them some time to find the money. Then he wouldn't have to give back the little bit of heroin he still had left. "Kelsey's a fun girl. Fucking amazing on her knees, as she can demonstrate for you if you're interested."

Smith smiled. "I might consider that. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Kelsey?"

But Kelsey didn't say anything. She just turned on her heel and went into their bedroom.

"I didn't mean right now, babe," Ringo called to her. Damn, her negotiation skills sucked. "Wait until they say yes first."

"Yes," Smith said.

Williams shook his head. "No."

Frustrated, Ringo was about to argue with him, try to persuade him to take a good deal, when he realized that Kelsey had come back out of the bedroom with a suitcase rolling behind her. That didn't make any sense to him. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm leaving you."

It took him a full ten seconds to process her words. "What?" She didn't mean like leave him for good, did she? She couldn't mean that. Kelsey loved him.

"I'm moving out. You can deal with your addiction, these guys, Donatelli, all by yourself. I'm done."

Well, that sucked. "Come on. Let's talk about this." Ringo fought to keep his eyelids open. Shit, he was sleepy, and he just wanted to sink back and enjoy the haze. But he didn't want his wife to leave him. He didn't. "What's the problem?"

Her lip trembled as she grabbed her purse off the kitchen table. "Oh, I don't know, the fact that you offered to prostitute me for your drugs. That kind of says something about our relationship. You don't respect me. I'm not a priority to you."

Great, she was going into psychobabble land on him. "Oh, my God, come on. I'm sorry, shit, it just seemed like a fast fix. Don't get all worked up, it's just a blow job. You should want to help me, you know. You should support me."

She opened her mouth, than snapped it shut again. She turned to Williams. "Do what you have to do. But I'm just asking you, as a favor to me, not to kill him."

And with that his wife left. Just walked out, rolling her little prissy pink suitcase behind him, like she didn't have a fucking care in the world. Leaving him with Dumb and Dumber and a sick stomach and no money.

So much for loyalty. Love.

Ringo didn't even bother to duck the next blow. He just let it nail him dead on, rattling his teeth and bursting the skin on his cheek open. Wishing Kelsey had told them to kill him, he closed his eyes. He was already in hell. Might as well make it official.

And when he got there, he was going to make damn sure Donatelli followed right after him.

Nate was actually surprised that Gwenna hadn't just sent him packing with a thanks and a don't call me, I'll call you. That hadn't exactly been his smoothest sexual encounter, and while he knew she'd had an orgasm, it had all been a little fast and furious. In the midst of it, he had been positive she'd been digging it, had felt her enthusiasm and her wild abandonment. But it seemed like the second he pulled it out, she was having regrets, trying to cover her nakedness up, and worrying about her phone ringing. Then she had been embarrassed as hell by the security guard and Nate had figured the night was over and he should be grateful for what he'd gotten.

But Gwenna had come back with the idea of slipping into a massage room and he was smart enough not to question fortune when it shined on him. Now he was kissing the bejeezus out of her on a massage table and feeling damn grateful she was giving him a chance to go back into the game. This time he was going to draw things out, build a little suspense, make her completely satisfied and glad she'd spent the night with him, not waking up in the morning wondering why the hell she'd had sex with a stranger.

To that end, he was employing a good old-fashioned make-out session, no rushing, no groping, just kissing slow and easy, like they were a raw sixteen and lip locking was enough to satisfy. He could feel her relaxing beneath him, her knees sinking back down to the table, her hands letting go of the death grip she'd had on the front of his shirt. When he'd laid her down, she hadn't resisted, but she hadn't exactly embraced the idea either. She had stiffened, knees up in the air, hands pressing against him like she was holding him at bay, her head slightly up off the pillow.

But now she was sort of melting onto the bed, all of her body relaxing and opening for him, her hair spread out around her head, her breathing soft and languid. Nate ran his tongue across her bottom lip, enjoying the sound she made. It was a tiny sigh, a release, a letting go. That was what he wanted, what they both needed. Here in the narrow semidark room, with a lingering scent of earthy candle and lotions, there was nothing to worry about. No reality. Just each other and pleasure, for a short space of time, before it would all crash back in on them.

Nate wasn't all that comfortable half standing, half leaning over her on the bed, but he was capable of compartmentalizing. He could ignore his calf muscle burning for the privilege of running his finger over her smooth cheek, down her neck, across her shoulder. Gwenna had amazing skin, with absolutely no imperfections anywhere. It was like brushing his lips over satin sheets, cool and sleek and expensive. He was very conscious of how big and rough and
guy
he was next to her, and he liked that. She was delicate and slight and all things soft and feminine.

"This is very nice," she murmured, breaking their kiss. "Did you notice the bed is heated? It feels delicious."

He had noticed because it was the last thing in the world he needed. He was generating plenty of heat on his own and knew if he lay down on the massage table with her, he was going to break out into a massive sweat. But he had noticed that Gwenna's skin tended to be always cold. She must have a slow metabolism or something. "Glad you like it. I bet it would feel even better under the blanket." With her clothes off.

"We're not going to fit in here together, you do know that, don't you?" She looked up at him with a slight smile.

God, her blue eyes were so gorgeous he could just about eat them. When he stared into their depths, when he saw all that pain, all that melancholy, all that determination, he wanted to bury himself in her and never, ever leave. It was scary as hell, but very compelling. Irresistible.

"We'll fit. We just have to do a little prep work." Nate ripped his shirt off over his head. "Your turn."

A spot of color appeared in her cheeks, but she sat up and removed her T-shirt, too, though she kept it bunched in front of her.

"You know what's coming next, don't you?" he asked, for some reason hoping he wouldn't actually have to say they needed to both take their pants off before he climbed under that blanket with her. Otherwise, once they were under, one of them was going to topple to the floor if they tried to undress on the narrow bed.

Expecting her to dance around what he was saying, she stunned him by saying, "Well, I'm hoping gobs of brilliant sex is coming next. Please tell me I'm right."

Nate let out a laugh. Gwenna was full of surprises. Good ones. "You are absolutely one hundred percent correct. But we have to ditch the jeans to make this work." To put action to his words, Nate undid his pants and got rid of them in two seconds. The boxer briefs followed suit.

Gwenna wasn't taking her jeans off, which was disappointing. She was too busy ogling him to undress, which he had to admit was hot. It made his cock jump a little at the clear appreciation she was showing. Her eyes went wide, and her pink lips formed an "O" at his movement, and her tongue flicked out to lick her lip. Nate forgave her for still having clothes on. Especially when she rolled on her side and wrapped a hand around him, stroking lightly up and down.

"Do you mind?" she asked.

Give him a minute to think about that.
Hell, no
. "Not at all."

"You're bigger than I expected," she murmured, using both hands to glide up and down on his shaft, fingers tickling over his balls.