Hooker (L.A. Liaisons Book 2) (7 page)

“Which I’ve already seen, remember?”

Oh. Oh yeah.
I didn’t have anything to say to that, did I?

His head fell back, and I was pretty sure I heard a growl of frustration escape.
 

Yeah. If this wasn’t proof I suffered from foot-in-mouth disease, I didn’t know what was. I just can’t control it. The word vomit just comes spewing out without a care. Or a bucket.
Cleanup on aisle four.

Nate straightened and shook his head at me before moving in my direction. I backed up at his approach, until my back hit the frosted door. His hand pressed against the glass by my cheek, and as he leaned in, his breath tickled my ear. I shivered and squeezed the boxes in my arms tighter, though I was sure my trembling was from the cold, not from the proximity of his body.
 

I was almost sure.
 

“Listen, Shayne,” he said, in a voice low and throaty, belying his age. “If I wanted to know about what else is hiding under your clothes, trust me, I’d find out.” He pulled away slightly, bringing his face in front of mine. “And maybe next time, you’ll want me to.”

Next time?
I thought as he backed away, the red shopping basket in his hand swinging back and forth like a pendulum clock counting down to our inevitable third meeting. My knees felt a bit wobbly as I watched him retreat, and I didn’t trust myself to push off the glass just yet.
 

No, I’d stay here, mute and staring, while he got the last word. And do you want to know the saddest thing? All I could think when he left and I was tossing the frozen food boxes into the cart was,
Thank you baby Jesus that I chose the healthy spinach ones.
 

CHAPTER FIVE

Viva Las Vegas

LAS VEGAS.

EVEN after visiting more times than I could count, the city always called to me. I wouldn’t consider myself a materialistic person, nor am I usually comfortable around grandiose displays of wealth—hah, because I don’t have any!—but I love seeing those enormous structures all lit up and sparkling. The blast of perfumed air hitting my face upon walking into each one gave me goosebumps—a sign of exciting, unpredictable times ahead.
 

Bright and early the next morning, I was throwing my bags into the boot of Paige’s Tahoe when my phone rang.
 

“Good morning, Val,” I said.
 

She didn’t waste any time with pleasantries. “What’s this I hear about Vegas?”

Shouldering my phone, I pushed the bags farther into the boot to make room for Paige’s stuff, not that there was much space left after Quinn and Ryleigh’s piles. To say we never traveled light would be an understatement.
 

“Happy Friday to you, too. Want me to pick up a souvenir flask for you?”

“Cut the small talk. You goin’ cock-calling, Callahan?”

Such a way with words. “If you’re asking do I plan to visit the animals at Circus Circus, I hate to disappoint you, but the answer’s no.”

“Well, in case you were planning on a few rounds, don’t. You’ve got a meeting with Ace at The Chandelier at eight tonight.”

Her words pinned me to my spot. “No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Val…”

Her voice, like melted butter, tried to smooth me over. “Such a happy coincidence that he’ll be there at the same time, don’t you think?”

No, no.
No way did I want to meet yet another up himself celebrity, and definitely
not
during Paige’s birthday weekend. Why would she give him up to me anyway? Miss Cherry-Poppin’ red dress and all.
 

“But…I thought this was something you wanted to handle,” I said, even though it was pointless to waste my breath. I’d be going whether I wanted to or not, but I wasn’t going to be a pushover.

“And I was under the assumption you wanted a promotion.”

“What am I supposed to be meeting with him about exactly?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find plenty to talk about.”

With a sigh, I said, “So you’re telling me you want me to meet with Ace, as in Ace Locke…at a bar…alone.”

“A bar isn’t exactly private, Shayne.”

Realization hit me in the face with the force of a Mack truck.
Oh bugger.
“Is this a date? This is a date, isn’t it? Please tell me you’re not setting me up with him at a bar in Vegas while I should be celebrating my best friend’s birthday.”

“I don’t know why you have to put a label on everything—”

“And not just a date,” I said. “A date with a celebrity, which I told you after the Pepé Le Pew disaster I’d never do again.”

“Okay, now you’re just being picky. I’m positive Ace doesn’t do voices. For Christ’s sake, he’s not method.”

With a frustrated growl, I slammed the boot shut. As I came around the car, Ryleigh and Quinn were giving me curious looks, but I shook my head and pointed to my phone.

“I’m off this weekend, Val. I put in my request months ago.”

“Most people would jump at the chance to be in your shoes.”

I rubbed my forehead to alleviate the throbbing that had suddenly come up. Part of my job description was knowing how to pick my battles with my boss, and this was one I knew better than to cross her on.
 

“Fine,” I mumbled.

“I didn’t hear that.”

“I’ll be there.”

“A ‘thank you so much for this incredible opportunity’ would’ve sufficed as well, but that would be too much for you, I suppose. Make sure to wear something skimpy to show off those toothpicks, would you.”

“Right on top of that, Val.”

“Don’t drop the ball. Or balls,” she said before the line went dead.

“Oh come
on
,
” I muttered, shoving my phone in my back pocket and stamping my foot for good measure.
 

“Please tell me that wench isn’t making you stay here this weekend. I’ll kill her,” Ryleigh said.

“No…but—” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Paige attempting to roll her bag down the long outside staircase, and I jogged over to help her.
 

“Oh, for the love of fuck,” Paige said as she struggled to keep her oversized suitcase from falling down the stairs and dragging her behind it. I grabbed the handle from her and heaved it down the remaining steps.
 

“Thank you,” she managed, leaning against the rail and catching her breath.
 

“I’d ask you why you need this much stuff for a two-night trip, but I don’t dare antagonize the birthday girl,” I said, rolling her bag toward the trunk.

“I appreciate that, Shayne. Lemme go grab the other one.”

I whirled around. “The other—”

Before I could get out the rest of my sentence, she was back inside the house. The boot was already full to bursting, so it would take a bit of maneuvering to pack it all in. When we were younger, my mum had somehow squeezed in a family of five’s clothing
and
Christmas presents in one little tiny space. She’d said it was like fitting puzzle pieces together, trial and error. That sounded simple enough.
 

Too bad I hated puzzles.

Paige’s door opened again and she placed a slightly smaller bag on the landing. “All right, I think that’s everything. Damn. Liquor bottles are heavy.”

“That bag is full of alcohol?”

“We’ve gotta pre-party.”

“Of course we do. What was I thinking?”

I helped her heave the suitcase to the car, and when she noticed the contents inside, she stopped in her tracks and let out a loud laugh.
 

“There is no way in hell Ryleigh’s stuff will fit,” she said. “She brings two bags of just shoes.”

“Actually, most of that
is
my stuff,” Ryleigh said, smirking as she joined us. “I came over early to get a head start.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Smart fucker.”

“And I brought the coffee,” Quinn said, carrying a tray of coffee cups from her car.

“Ohhhh, you’re the best,” I said, running over to take one off her hands. Caffeine was a must if I was going to deal with what the night had in store for me. Scratch that—I needed something stronger.

“Hey Paige, you got any Baileys in that bag?”
 

She gave me a wary glance. “It’s nine a.m.”

“And I’m on vacation.”

“Good point. Quinn, you’re driving,” she said, tossing her the keys and unzipping the bag we’d just hauled down to reveal a bottle of Kahlua. “Will this work?”

I nodded my agreement and we peeled off our coffee lids to spike the drinks.
 

And then we were off.
 

“Hey,” Quinn said after we’d pulled out of Paige’s luxurious Hollywood Hills neighborhood. “You know what this means, right?”

Paige stopped mid-sip and shook her head. “Oh no. No, no, no, no.”

“Liquor up, buttercup. You’re gonna need it.” Quinn smiled in the rearview mirror in Paige’s direction.

“Absolutely not. I changed my mind. Stop the car.”

“Too late. It’s my honor to chauffeur our beloved birthday girl, and to celebrate, I’ll be playing all my favorites. A little seventies rock. Some hair-band eighties. Maybe a little nineties grunge.”

Paige gave a loud groan. “Oh God, please no. Not the slit-your-wrists Nirvana shit.”

Quinn gave an evil laugh. “You just keep pouring that liquor, and leave me in charge of the radio. Now cheers,” she said, holding her arm out to clink her non-spiked with ours.

We were past Barstow before I had the courage to bring up Val’s call.
 

“She what!” Ryleigh exclaimed, wheeling around from the passenger seat to face me.

“I know, I know. I’m so sorry, you guys, but I don’t know how to get out of it,” I said, leaning my head back against the seat. A light buzz was taking the edge off my nerves, but I was more concerned with letting the girls down.

“Don’t you dare!” Paige cried out. “Quinn, turn that down. Did you hear what she said? First Pepé Le Pew, and now Ace Locke? Jesus, Shayne. Do you have a golden pussy we don’t know about?”

Quinn flicked the radio off. “Holy hell. This is some vision-board shit coming true right here. Can you wish Henry Cavill into mine?”

“You have to go. Have to,” Paige said.

I glared at her. “It’s your freakin’ birthday. I’m not supposed to be on duty, and I’m so tired of going on these stupid meeting date things for her. Besides, we’ve got plans.”

Paige slapped the back of the seat. “Hell yes we do! We’ll all go, then. He won’t know we’re there, and it’s the perfect place to grab drinks before our night out. We’ll just get ready a bit earlier.”

Their excited faces told me I’d have the support I needed to get in and then GTFO. I breathed a sigh of relief. “That would be perfect. Thank you, thank you.”
 

“See, now we can spy on you and save you when you give us the signal.” Paige gave herself a pat on the back. “You’re welcome.”
 

CHAPTER SIX

Ace in the Hole

HOURS LATER, AFTER we’d checked into the Cosmopolitan, I’d gotten a full makeover from Paige, including a smoky eye to go with the blue dress she’d forced me to wear that was about ten inches shorter than I preferred.
It’s like the Pantsless Metro ride all over again,
I thought, pulling at the hem.
 

Paige tousled my loose curls around my shoulders. “Stop fidgeting.”

“I can’t help it. I’m showing my bum.”

“You’re not showing your bum,” she mimicked in my accent, and then she stepped back to inspect her handiwork. “Okay, lip gloss, and then you’re set.”

“And here are your shoes, properly scored so you don’t fall on said
bum
.
” Ryleigh set down the not-quite-three-inch heels—as high as I would allow—and then flopped on the bed. By contrast,
her
heels had to be double the size of mine. How she walked in those, I had no clue, but she could probably run a marathon in them and be fine. It wasn’t normal.

“Okay, so let’s go over the signal again,” Quinn said as she emerged from the bathroom looking like an assassin goddess. That was the only way to describe the diminutive strapless leather dress that looked like she’d have to get peeled out of later. Maybe that was the point.

“If he starts any baby talk, if he puts his hands in places you don’t want them, or if you’re at the point where you want to throw your drink in his face and smash the martini glass over his head, make sure to do this first and we’ll come regulate.” Quinn balled her fist, held it up to her cheek, and then rubbed the line of her jaw with her thumb.
 

My eyebrows shot up. “Yep. Got it. Not conspicuous at all.”

“Won’t be if it’s done right,” Quinn said, handing me my purse.
 

“Did you put mace in here too?”
 

“Watch it, smartass.”

Now, it just so happened we were staying at the same hotel that the meeting with Ace would be taking place, so after the girls went down to assume their positions, I waited for five and then punched the elevator button for the level I needed.
 

Ugh, why did Val do this to me?
My stomach always flipped with nerves every time I had to go on one of these “meet-dates,” as I called them. And knowing I was about to meet someone I’d watched in movies? Not intimidating at all.
Really.

By the time I arrived at the Chandelier, my stomach was in a chokehold so tight it was on the verge of tapping out. For Pete’s sake, it wasn’t like I’d never met a celebrity before. I once saw Tom Hanks at the farmers’ market down the street, and when he smiled at me and said “Hi” as he walked by, I still didn’t pass out.

So I could definitely handle Mr. Big and Brawny.
 

Ace wasn’t at the top bar, so I headed down to the second floor, studiously ignoring my friends as I walked by where they were positioned at the main bar. When a wolf whistle sounded behind me, my heel skidded across the slick floor, my arms going windmill in an effort to stop the crash. Residual wobbling as I tried to stay on my feet and then…safe.
 

Bloody hell, that was close.

On an exhale, I tossed my hair over my shoulder, and that was when I saw my potential client. Had to be. A heavily muscled figure sat in a roped-off area hidden in amethyst shadows and blocked by a couple of bodyguard types. As I approached, they moved to the side, and I heard, “Miss Callahan,” as one opened the rope.