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Which is why I’m showing him the plans for the exclusive resort I’m building on Liberty Island. My escape plan. Even though I know he’s as dirty as they come. Not that I can talk.
I might have grown up in complete luxury compared to Vin but I’m not exactly squeaky clean either.
Vin likes me, though. He’s been taking an interest in me and my business for years. Maybe because I’m useful. The kind of L.A. lawyer who can get anybody out of anything. I clean up problems, make them go away, and get paid handsomely for it.
And I’ve come to hate it. I’m ready to move on. To the little island on the east coast where my best friends live. Where I’ve already built a house and broken ground on the resort that will bring in even more money to the small town.
Or it will, if I can get Vin to agree to a cash injection. Because all of mine is already tied up in the resort.
“Remind me again why you need my help?” he asks.
“Because the bank has a schedule for releasing the loans. And they’re being difficult. Without a bridge loan we can’t pay the staff or put money down on materials. And without the materials and labor we can’t hit the next milestone so the bank will release the funds.”
It’s a catch twenty-two. And yes, I have Hudson and Parker – my best friends – who are also investors in the resort, the same way I invested in Hudson’s refurbishment of the late Victorian hotel on the island, but they don’t have the available funds a man like Vin does.
Nobody legit does. Which is why I’m here at his club asking for help, and not requesting a loan from theFirst Bank of Dirty Money.
Behind Vin, one of his bodyguards leans forward and whispers in his ear, the movement exposing the gun belt around his waist.
I don’t flinch. I’m not afraid of his goons and I’m certainly not afraid of his guns. He’s a businessman first. A gambler second. Both would work for me.
“If it was anybody other than you asking, I’d say no way,” he tells me, his voice gravelly, like it’s inhaled far too many cigars.
“Then I’m glad it’s me.” That’s no word of a lie. If Hudson or Parker knew I was here, trying to make a deal with a man like Marchetti, they’d hate it. That’s the funny thing, my friends love the results of me dancing with the dark, but they hate knowing about the footwork.
Which is why I never tell them.
“I’m interested,” he tells me. “But I want a slice of the action. Give me the numbers and we can talk about a deal.”
Before I can tell him this is strictly a short term deal, repayment with interest – not an investment, my phone buzzes on the table.
I glance down, expecting an SOS from an old client who can’t quite accept that I’m leaving L.A., but instead Autumn Davis’ name flashes across my screen.
I frown. She’s Hudson’s sister and also Parker’s wife but she never calls when she knows I’m working. Which immediately makes me want to take it.
“Excuse me for a minute,” I murmur to Vin, already standing and sliding my phone into my hand.
He gives me a grunt and goes back to sipping his Scotch, his Rolex Submariner catching the light of the candles.
When I step out onto the club’s balcony, the L.A. sprawl stretches out in front of me, yellow and orange lights arranged in grids as far as the eye can see. The cool night air cuts against my skin as I lift the phone to my ear.
“Autumn?” I murmur. “What’s up?”
There’s a pause, then a sigh. “West, thank god,” she says, sounding almost frantic. “I need a big favor. Likehuge.” She takes a deep breath, likely to calm herself, and I don’t like it. Autumn doesn’t rattle easily.
“Of course,” I tell her, already sliding into the role of the man who fixes things. “Tell me what you need?”
“It’s not what I need. It’s Eden,” she tells me, and my jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “She’s in trouble. How fast do you think you can get to Vegas?”
two
EDEN
“Get up,” a rough voice rasps in my ear, making its way through my broken dreams. It’s only when I feel the cold concrete pressing into my leg that I realize somebody’s pushing me, trying to wake me up.
And that’s when I remember where I am.
In a jail cell. In Las Vegas.
