Page 20 of Cocky Prince
“Oh yes.” Blondie’s eyes are dreamy. “Your brother is a god in bed.”
I cringe. “Yeah, I don’t need to hear that.” I pull out the stack of bills I grabbed from my nightstand before I came out. “If anyone asks, your services were utilized and most welcome. Are we clear?”
Blondie’s eyes narrow. “You don’t want Paul to know you didn’t sleep with us.”
I smile. “Smart girl.”
“Are you gay?” Choker Girl asks, taking a bite of her food, eyes curious but without judgment.
I chuckle. “Uh, that would be a no.” In fact, there’s one woman who’s speared her pointy heels into my chest and is becoming a pain in my ass.
I should have taken these women up on their offer last night, considering I’m not interested in strings, especially strings with strong emotions. And anything with Hayden would be intense. I don’t need or want that.
The women finish their breakfast, and fortunately, there’s no need for me to usher them out. They grab their purses and head for the door.
Blondie turns back. “Next time Hunter wants to party, tell him to call Celia. I left my number in the back pocket of his jeans.”
I raise my eyebrow. “You knew he wouldn’t be here in the morning?”
She shrugs with a light smile. “Guys like him don’t stick around. But they do come back for seconds.” And with that, she and her friend leave.
Chapter Eight
Hayden
Ijama handful of chocolate-covered peanuts in my mouth and eat through my stress. I’ve found jack shit after searching the casino, but scrolling through the online news releases on my laptop, my feet nestled in fuzzy socks, I’ve come across articles on Blackwell’s past that paint an interesting story.
Joseph Blackwell, heir to the Blackwell real estate fortune, uses his San Francisco connections to make a name for himself in Lake Tahoe real estate.—The Lake Tahoe Merchant
Joseph Blackwell, heir and owner of the Season Hotel in San Francisco, has lunch with his godfather and Mexican businessman Jose De la Cruz. De la Cruz has been linked to drug trafficking, but never convicted.—The San Francisco Tribune
Right,linked. That’s the media’s way of saying,We’re pretty sure he’s a psychotic drug lord, but since he’s so clever at not being caught, we have no hard evidence.It’s not a direct hit, but then again, I didn’t think I’d find one, or Blackwell wouldn’t be our CEO. Mira and the others are on their way over to talk about where to go from here, and this gives me something to show them.
Maybe Blackwell isn’t running some kind of drug and prostitute ring at Blue. Maybe it’s this De la Cruz guy? As I ponder the connection, a face appears on the other side of the window right next to my head.
“Helloooo,” Mira says through the screen, cackling.
I jump back, nearly falling off the couch. “Holy shit.” I hold my laptop precariously with the tips of my fingers as I brace myself between the couch and the coffee table, catching my breath.
I carefully set the computer on the table and scramble to open the front door. Mira is bent over laughing and clinging to a large paper bag. “Not funny,” I say. “You could have given me a heart attack. I should fire you for that.” There’s absolutely no truth to my words, but dammit, she gets me every time!
She straightens, a look of innocence on her face. “Hayden, you love me. You’d never fire me.”
Mira enters the house, followed by Gen, Lewis, and Tyler. “You do make life easier at Blue,” I agree. And she’s right; I love her like a sister.
When I returned to Lake Tahoe, the house I grew up in felt smaller, but with the guys filing in, it’s bursting at the seams. Lewis’s head is only a few inches below the low-beamed wood ceiling, and standing shoulder to shoulder, Lewis and Tyler might actually be able to touch the walls on either side.
My parents originally bought this place as a starter house. After a few years, they loved it so much we stayed. And with only one child, two bedrooms never became a problem. But that’s not the case with two overgrown men and their girlfriends inside. Any minute now, we’re going to be bouncing into each other like pinballs if I don’t put these guys somewhere.
“Have a seat.” I gesture to the small L-shaped sectional next to the wood-burning stove my dad installed when I was five.
Lewis and Tyler take up the couches, and Mira, who’s been here before, heads for the galley kitchen I remodeled six months ago. I hear her clanking around in the refrigerator. When she returns, she’s juggling cans of beer and handing them out. I take a seat in the rocking chair across from the guys.
Gen pops the top of her can and sits on the arm of the couch Lewis’s large body is taking up. “I spoke to my dad today.” Gen’s famous ex-quarterback dad was instrumental in getting Drake Peterson behind bars after her attack. “His lawyers say that unless we have more evidence against the casino or Blackwell, we can’t do anything. Which is pretty much what we already knew. I can’t believe Blackwell has managed to keep the relocation of those suites a secret. It’s been weeks since Drake’s conviction.” She nudges Lewis with her elbow. “Can’t you tap into the security cameras while you’re working on electrical or something?”
Lewis and his father own Sallee Construction and are often hired by the casino for construction jobs.
He frowns. “Illegal. I could lose my license, and you might not be able to use the footage. Pretty sure you need a warrant to get that sort of thing.”
