Page 42 of Dealing Dirty
Our steps scuff through pebbles and dead branches as we approach an old, barely functioning gas station. The trees in the wooded area behind it have lost their leaves, and black gnarled branches stretch up to the sky. Three lonely streetlights illuminate the small parking lot with only two gas pumps, and I shake as a burst of cold air slides between us.
“Honestly, who is getting gas here?” I ask with chattering teeth.
Derrick checks his phone before coming to a stop. He surveys the area over, absently rubbing his hands up and down my arms. “Ben just texted me the all-clear. He said to tell the doorman that we’re friends of Diablo. Apparently, the guys are here, but there’s no sign of Sasha.”
“She didn’t show?”
He purses his lips. “She’s a smart cookie. If I know Sash, she’s sneaking around the place looking for another way in. If we don’t see her within the hour, we’ll bounce.”
His hands still over my biceps, and his coal-lined eyes are lively again, even with the worry lines that mar their edges. I can’t handle him looking at me this way. My silly heart sings his praises while my brain screams that this closeness is exactly how I’ll end up with clipped wings.
I gently shrug away from his touch, giving a tight smile. I’m hoping to dodge the disappointment, but I’m not quick enough to miss the scowl that tugs his mouth into a frown.
There’s no reason I should feel guilty. The terms of our agreement were made perfectly clear—and yeah, giving him head in Jack’s office will surely be the highlight of my entire year—but if he’s catching feelings, that’s not on me.
But if that’s true, then why is my stomach rolling as I walk away?
My boots scratch against the pavement as I step toward the entrance of the casino that’s disguised as a gas station. The wordMarqueeblinks in neon red at the top of the building.
A bell hanging over the door chimes, and my heart leaps into my throat. On the outside, I look like a badass biker chick, but inside, I’m shaking like a chihuahua.
“Hola, señorita,” the attendant greets me. He’s relaxing in a high-backed chair behind a glass barrier with his legs propped up on the counter. The magazine he’s holding folds onto his lap as a slithering smile parts his face. Greedy eyes slide down my body from the top of my head all the way to the tips of my boots.
Oh, you like what you see,Papí?
This is my time to shine. If he wants to make this easier on us, then I’m not above using my feminine wiles.
I coax my inner seductress to the surface, gracing him with a flirty smile. “Hi, handsome.” I speak to him in Spanish as I lean an elbow on the counter, giving him an ample view of my cleavage.
“What can I help you with?” he asks, keeping his words disguised from Derrick in Spanish while eagerly staring at my cleavage.
“My friend and I were invited here by Diablo.”
His eyes flick to Derrick, who remains unassuming behind me, letting me work. “I will let you through, beautiful. But not the man.”
Oh, hell.
Thinking quickly, I lightly nibble on my lower lip. “Papí. Listen closely. Diablo is a very close, verypersonalfriend of this man behind me.” His eyes widen just enough that I know I’ve got him. “I think we both know how testy he can get.”
He swallows hard. “Just a minute.”
I lean back from the window as he presses the button on his walkie-talkie. He calls down to someone, describing us and the information I’ve given him, and my heart explodes with enough adrenaline to make me lightheaded. If whoever is on the other end of that line isn’t Ben, we’re going to be in deep shit.
Derrick doesn’t move a single inch. His face is made of stone as we wait for someone to either clear us or damn us.
“They’re clear.” Ben’s voice echoes around the room, and I have to physically stop my body from sagging with relief.
We’re dismissed with a flick of his wrist as he returns to the magazine he was reading.
Stepping around the booth, we’re greeted by a rusty red door, and when I reach for the knob, the sweat slicking my palms makes it difficult to turn.
“Come on,” I mumble as Derrick’s quiet presence becomes a burning furnace behind my back. He places a hand over my elbow in a gentle show of comfort.
“Take a breath,” he says, close enough to raise goose bumps.
I lean into him, breathing in his unique scent before finally opening the door.
Breaking through the dark hall that leads down into the casino, I choke on a thick cloud of smoke that makes the entire room hazy. The carpet under our feet is a deep hunter green, straight from the ’70s, and the lighting is so dull that it’s hard to see all four corners of the casino. There are about ten rows of various slot machines, but it’s the giant TV screen in the very back of the casino that snags my attention.
