Sweet Southern Betrayal (3 page)

“Hey. I think I was just insulted,” he huffed out on a laugh. Risa Clay gave it as good as he got it. He liked that about her.

“I don’t hear you denying it.” She waved her phone in his direction. “So you want to do a mutual delete of the photos we both have on our phones? I really don’t want them floating around, and I bet you don’t either.”

“I like the way you think.” He breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn’t the one who had to ask. His future campaign manager would thank him for getting rid of the evidence now.

They traded phones, the silence punctuated only by the occasional reaction to an image on the screen. The pictures on her phone were similar to his, except for the one of them kissing in the bed. Teague had a brief moment of regret at the loss of that photograph, but he tamped it down. He couldn’t afford weird sentimentality at a moment like this.

She paused, her swift exhale giving him a good idea of what photo she was reviewing.

“Wow. We look…” She ended with something that sounded a lot like a whimper.

Fuck, that sound was going to haunt him the rest of his life.

“Yes. We do.” Teague stared at her until she looked back at him. For two strangers it was a crazy intimate moment, the knowledge of what they’d had almost surreal. He regretted the alcoholic blinders that prevented him from retaining an actual memory of the moment.

“I’ve never…” Her words faltered again as she glanced down at the screen once more, thumb hovering over the screen. Her hand shook a little, and damn didn’t he ache to go over and feel that tremble against his skin. He must still be drunk because feeling like this—out of control and ready to give in—was something he’d rid himself of years ago. You didn’t get where he was by letting your dick rule your head.

“Here’s your phone,” Teague said, not trusting himself to say anything else. She handed over his device, avoiding any physical contact.

Their task complete, he watched her as she shimmied into her dress and shoes. Suddenly realizing just how underdressed he was, he snagged his pants off the floor, and put them on just as she got to the door. He followed her, putting a hand on her shoulder as she reached for the door handle. Risa turned to face him, her back against the door. There was a hint of wariness in her eyes. He took a step back, giving her space to breathe.

“Damn. You’re beautiful” spilled out before he could stop it.

Risa blushed. “Thank you.”

“Do you need anything?” he asked, pulling out his wallet.

Her eyes narrowed, anger causing her cheeks to flush a brighter pink.

“I’m not a hooker.”

“No, I didn’t mean that. I meant cab fare. Whatever.” Appalled at what she’d thought he meant, he gave up trying to explain, knowing he sounded as though English was his fifth language. Still flustered, he shook his head as she started to laugh at him, her hand covering her mouth but doing damn little to keep the giggles at bay. “Fuck, this is a mess.” He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “Excuse me if I don’t know the protocol. I
never
do this kind of thing either.”

She bit back a final laugh as her smile was replaced by another expression, totally different—sad, wistful, full of a truckload of regret. With a soft sound tinged with distress, she leaned up to hug him, each lush curve of her body molding to his own. On instinct—because God knew he didn’t do hugging as a rule—he wrapped his arms around her, returning the embrace, hoping she didn’t notice how his heart raced in his chest.

“I think you might be one of the good guys, Teague Elliott,” Risa murmured, her warm breath raising delicious tingles along his flesh. Involuntarily, his arms tightened around her and she responded by burrowing deeper into his hold. She held on tight, squeezing once with a mumbled “damn it” against the side of his neck.

Teague didn’t know who pulled back first, but he definitely was the one who leaned down and captured her mouth in a kiss, swallowing her moan as she opened to him. She was warm, wet, her tongue like velvet against his own, and her softness in stark contrast to the rigid length of his cock pressing against the fabric of his pants. He wanted to take her back to bed and lose himself inside her. He wanted to take her against this door, his thrusts making her cry out in the same rhythm as the rattle of the door. He just…wanted.

The ringing of his phone broke the silence. Beck’s ringtone, “Bad to the Bone.”

Risa broke the kiss, panting softly against his lips, her hands still woven tightly through his hair. “Whoa. Saved by your amazing taste in music.”

“It’s my buddy Beck. He probably needs me to help him outrun a jealous boyfriend.” Teague licked his lips, following her lead as she released him from her hold. “Or bail money.”

“Well, Teague Elliott, it sounds like your real life needs you.” She reached behind her for the door handle, her smile dimmed and tinged with melancholy. “If you’re ever back in Vegas…”

“If you’re ever in Virginia…”

His phone blared again and it seemed louder and more insistent the second time around.

“You better answer that. That might be your future calling.”

And then she was gone, slipping through the door and out of his sight faster than he could think of a snappy comeback.

He slid his hand into his pocket, grabbing his phone and looking down to key in the pass code and answer the call, but his thumb stalled over the screen. The image of the two of them kissing stared up at him and Teague started to laugh. She’d saved it as his home screen.

Apparently, not everything that happened in Vegas was going to stay in Vegas.

Chapter Three

She would never get used to the guns.

Risa pressed her body farther back into the chair outside Big Tony’s office while she waited her turn with the man who had a stranglehold on her life. Everyone who worked for Big Tony was packing. They wore it like a badge of honor just daring someone to goad them into using it. A bunch of oversize, testosterone-juiced man-children strutting around bringing violence and chaos with them everywhere they went.

Assholes.

Not for the last time, she pushed her regrets over her life to the back of her mind and dealt with the reality of living and dying in Las Vegas. She’d grown up in this town and literally lived on the streets for a period of time, and knew that if you stayed you eventually got roped into the seedy underside of the glitter and glamour of the strip. She’d avoided it for a long time, sidestepping the interest that her C-cups, long legs, and red hair got her from the local thugs, but if you worked in a place like the Gold Coast Casino long enough, you got noticed.

She still remembered the day she caught the attention of Big Tony and her life changed—for the better and for the worse. It didn’t hurt to have a man like him interested in you because it kept the other losers away, and it
really
didn’t hurt to know him when you needed ten grand to put your best friend in rehab because her shithead boyfriend got her hooked on meth. But the knowledge of what she’d done to a man named Teague Elliott hurt like a bitch.

“Risa, what are you here to see Big Tony about?” Frank Gazarra asked as he stared at her chest.

“Eyes up, Frank. The girls are awesome, but the last time I checked they don’t talk,” she replied, unsurprised when Frank took his time lifting his eyes to her face. “I did a little work for Big Tony and I’m here to report in.”

“I’m surprised to hear that. You always stay away from the life.”

“Big Tony loaned me some cash when I needed it. I pay my debts.”

“Women usually do that on their backs with the big guy.” Frank smirked, his eyes straying back down to her breasts. She suppressed a sigh, wishing she could hurry up and get this over with. She’d waited over a week for Big Tony to call her in to hand over the goods, changing her mind a million times and feeling worse about what she’d done with each passing minute.

“Well, I’m not.”

“I would think your little sex toy business would be pulling in the cash.” He waggled his eyebrows and stuck out his tongue. “Sex sells, baby.”

Gross.
She tamped down the urge to vomit. Tony had better hurry or he was going to have a “cleanup on aisle nine” moment out here.

“My business is called Behind Closed Doors. I sell upscale marital aids to enhance any relationship.”

“If you ever need someone to test out the products—” Frank had begun to lean into her personal space, and Risa was never more glad to see the door to Big Tony’s office open and his identical, big-necked bodyguards call her inside.

She sidled past the guy and scooted into the office, her hands clammy. She waited for Big Tony to look up from what he was writing on a pad of paper. She didn’t have to wait long, and was even greeted by a big smile when he looked up and motioned her closer.

He was a good-looking man. Big but fit, his dark hair sprinkled with silver streaks here and there. He was somewhere between forty and forty-five, and it showed that he’d taken care of his body.

“Risa. It’s always good to see you,” he boomed out in his deep voice as he half stood to lean across the desktop to press a kiss to her cheek. He pulled back and sat, taking the time to linger over her body, his expression stating that he liked what he saw. “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks, Mr. Giambetti.” She stood still and resisted the urge to cover up a little more when his gaze grew hotter.

“I told you to call me Tony.”

“Okay, Tony.”

He returned his gaze to her own and got to the point. “Do you have what I asked for?”

“Yes.” She knew she’d failed to hide the hesitation in her voice when he frowned.

“The wedding chapel was ready for you? The fake preacher all ready to go? You got the photos I asked for?” He leaned forward, his excitement as clear as the night sky on the open desert. “You made sure you got the digital images, the only copies?”

“They were ready for us. I slipped the drug in his drink and it worked just like you said.” She stood there fighting back the wash of guilt and humiliation that pooled in her gut. Even when she’d halved the dose, she still couldn’t believe what she’d done to a stranger—a really great stranger—who would hate her guts the minute he found out what she’d done. And she’d never get to tell him her side of the story. She wasn’t a bad person. Just desperate.

“He didn’t hurt you, did he? Teague Elliott has a reputation for sleeping with lots of women, but not for being rough.”

“No. No, he was…”
Fucking awesome. The best. He’s ruined me for anyone else.

She’d taken one look at Teague Elliott’s hazel eyes and realized just what a colossally bad mistake she’d made. He was gorgeous, charming, and sexy as hell. Big Tony hadn’t ordered her to sleep with him. He just wanted compromising photos. The sex-athon was all Risa—she couldn’t help herself when he’d kissed her like a man who’d waited his whole life just to kiss her. And she was so scared and unhappy that when he’d whispered how beautiful she was, lowered the strap off her shoulder and pressed a kiss there, she’d done the unthinkable and given in to the fantasy for one damn night of her life.

Tony was waiting for her to finish.

“He was fine. Everything went perfectly.”

“So hand it over.” He extended his arm, palm up, to take possession of the photos that would give Big Tony power over Teague Elliott.

Risa paused, her fingers skimming past the envelope of photographs she’d developed from that night, and turned over the thumb drive that held the key to her debt being paid in full. She’d be free from worry, Pepper would be clean, and maybe they could ditch this place and start over in a town where the people were nice, real, and ordinary.

All she had to do was ruin a nice man’s life.

A man who’d treated her like a queen, who’d danced with her, laughed with her, and then marched right out of her favorite romance novels and made love to her all night long.

A man who’d made her feel as though she was his equal.

To not do it was impossible. She didn’t have ten grand, and the option of sleeping with Tony was something she could not do—ever. With shaking hands she pulled out the slim drive and placed it in Tony’s palm and watched as his fingers closed over it.

Her future was set.

He turned to place the drive in his computer, and Risa held her breath, stomach clenching painfully at what would come to life on the monitor. Could she just turn and leave? Would he let her?

The door behind her opened after a brief, hard knock. She stared at Tony, watching as he spun to face the newest visitor, a scowl on his face at the intrusion.

“What the fuck do you want, Frank?”

Risa’s legs were like noodles with relief at the interruption.
Thank you, Frank. You slimy little pervy bastard—thank you.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Giambetti. The games control people say there’s a problem with a bank of slot machines, and they insist on talking to you about it.”

“That’s what I have floor manager for, for fuck’s sake,” Tony barked out as he rose from his chair in an angry huff. He left the thumb drive on the desk and walked past her, and out of the office without a backward glance in her direction with several of his men following in his wake.