Confess (Sin City Salvation Book 1) Read online

  Shark gray eyes cut into me. “Who the hell are you?”

  “That’s a good question,” her opponent chimed in. He walked around the table and stopped a foot away, studying me. “You aren’t from around here.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  He cocked his head to the side, and I knew the moment recognition sparked in his eyes. I cringed before he even spoke.

  “I know who you are.” He jabbed his pool stick in my direction. “You’re that fella from the TV. That lawyer who defends all those rich wife beaters and such.”

  Gypsy looked up at me, her eyes flaying me alive. I could almost hear her judgment already. With one simple comment from some drunk moron, she’d made up her mind about me.

  “I saw you,” she murmured. “At the courthouse. You were the guy who opened the door for me. Are you following me?”

  “Let’s discuss this outside.”

  She took a step back, shielding her body with her arms. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Who the hell do you think you are?”

  I took back the space between us and whispered in her ear. “I’m the guy who just saved your ass. And if you don’t leave now, I’ll tell this whole bar just how much you’ve stolen in here tonight.”

  Her shoulders went rigid, and when she pulled back to look at me, she knew I meant it.

  “I’ll leave on my own,” she announced. “Thank you very much.”

  She scooped up the hem of her white dress, which was now stained with beer and crumpled peanut shells, and then sauntered out the door. I followed, keeping my distance just so I could watch her get safely into a taxi.

  She waved at the cabbie and poked her head inside to ask if he was available before flinging herself into the back seat and shutting the door. She gave him the address, and then out of curiosity, she looked back at the door to find me standing there. I didn’t stop her before they drove away.

  I’d see her again soon.

  THE DUSTY, HEAD-IN-OVEN VARIETY OF heat hit me as I strode from McCarren International Airport’s baggage claim with my Kate Spade luggage in tow. Even though Birdie was late—again—a familiar warmth bloomed in my chest as I stood on the curb and inhaled the exhaust fumes and cigarette smoke.

  I was finally home.

  It had been three weeks since I’d set foot in Sin City, and I missed it. Something about the constant lights and noise and obnoxious heat of this place attracted lost souls. A few years ago, I was one of them. Las Vegas had spoiled me with the glitz and glamour, and it didn’t matter how many places I visited—nothing else ever compared.

  My almost marriage to Graham Darby kept me away for longer than I’d anticipated, but thanks to him, Birdie and I would be sitting pretty for at least a year. I could probably even take a vacation, but who was I kidding? I loved the con too much to quit.

  As I checked my bank account to ensure Graham had fulfilled his end of the bargain, I couldn’t help but notice that I had an admirer edging closer to me on the curb. He had the subtlety of a shark circling blood-infested waters, and if he weren’t wearing department store khakis, I might have taken the bait.

  Ignoring him, I sent Graham a quick email, letting him know that the photographic evidence of his affair would be delivered by six this evening, and he could do with it what he wished.

  It was a clean break, and we both came out better for it. Though I probably could have squeezed even more out of him, in the end, I knew when I was pushing my luck. Dealing with powerful men was a dangerous game, but I hadn’t lost yet.

  The insufferable vocals of tween pop preceded the flash of red that alerted me to Birdie. Pulling up in the red Audi TTS I bought her last year, she popped her bubblegum and waved for me to get in.

  “Sorry, sorry, I know,” she said. “I’m always late.”

  With a pink tipped fingernail, she pressed the button that opened the trunk, and my admirer rushed to help me put my bags in.

  “Thanks,” I murmured.

  Once he finished stuffing my suitcases inside, his eyes didn’t miss the opportunity to roam over my fitted yellow romper and gold stilettos.

  “My name’s Kevin,” he offered.

  I struggled not to roll my eyes. “Hi, Kevin.”

  “Do you have a name?” he teased.

  “My name is you can’t afford me, sweetie, so I’m going to save you the trouble of working up the courage to ask me out.”

  I didn’t wait for his reply, but I heard it nonetheless. Regardless, I laughed it off. I’d been called worse things than a bitch by guys far more intimidating than Kevin.

  “Another one bites the dust, huh?” Birdie laughed as I shut the door, and she gunned it out of the clustered pickup zone.

  “He might need some therapy, but I’m sure he’ll survive.”

  Birdie turned down the music and gave me a quick once-over before replacing her oversized Coach sunglasses. “How was New York?”

  “Crowded, loud, obnoxious.” I sighed.

  “C’mon, Gyps,” she whined. “You know I don’t like it when you make me ask a million questions. Just tell me about the money. Did you score big?”

  I examined my little sister from the passenger seat, wishing for the thousandth time she’d never found out what I actually did to support us. It was my job to protect her, and even if she was nineteen, Birdie didn’t have the skills to survive this world on her own.

  She had grown far too excited when talking about my cons with me, and I needed her to know that it wasn’t exciting. At least, it shouldn’t be for her. It was dangerous. In reality, it was the most dangerous job I could possibly pull off, and every time I went into a con, I never knew if I’d come out alive. But I did it for us.

  “Where did you get that ring?” I asked, the gleam from her right hand practically blinding me.

  She wiggled her finger and shrugged. “Somebody dropped it in the casino.”

  She was lying, and I knew she was lying. That ring had to be worth at least twenty grand, and considering I recently put Birdie on a necessities-only allowance, she couldn’t afford it.

  “What about the sunglasses? Did you find those on the floor too?”

  She smirked. “Of course not. I just smiled and batted my eyelashes, and the sales guy gave me a huge discount.”

  “Birdie.” I rubbed my temples, trying to will away the tension. “We’ve talked about this.”

  “About what?” She tried using the same tactic she just described by batting her pretty blue eyes at me.

  “You’re getting too used to this lifestyle. I don’t like it. You need to cut back and start focusing on your future. On school.”

  She pursed her lips and shook her head, strands of blond hair flying around her face. “School is boring. I want to work with you.”

  “No.” My jaw clenched. “That will never happen. Never.”

  “I’m an adult, Gypsy. You can’t tell me what to do anymore.”

  “Then why don’t you act like one and get your GED like you promised you would?”

  “Funny coming from you.” She rolled her eyes. “Hypocritical much?”

  My attention drifted out the window, watching the cars fly by as we wound our way across Summerlin Parkway. I was so tired of this argument. I knew it, and Birdie knew it, but neither one of us knew what to do about it.

  “Look, I’m sorry,” Birdie muttered a minute later. “Are you mad at me?”

  I smiled at her because she was always the first to break. I loved my sister more than anything. I think she was the only person I was actually capable of loving. So the question was ridiculous, but she asked it often because deep down she was still a damaged little girl.

  “I could never be mad at you,” I told her. “I just want what’s best for you. Always.”

  “I know.” She dipped her head to hide her emotion. “That’s why I’m trying to do what I promised. I’m still going to all my classes. Mostly.”

  “If you want to get into design school, you need to have your GED. There’s no way
around that.”

  “I know.” She shrugged a dainty shoulder. “It’s just hard to stay focused while I get through all the boring stuff first.”

  “It will get easier,” I assured her.

  “What about you, Gyps? What do you want to be when you grow up?”

  I leaned my head back against the headrest and smiled at her joke. I was already well and truly grown up. Too grown up for twenty-three. “I want to be rich.”

  “Ha.” Birdie snorted. “Could have seen that one coming.”

  She whipped the car into a parking space in front of our luxury apartment building in Summerlin North but kept the car idling.

  “Aren’t you coming in?”

  She bit her lip and shook her head. “I have class.”

  My gaze moved to the clock on the dashboard. I knew her schedule like the back of my hand because it was the only way I could feel safe. Those details were vital to me. There was never a question in my mind that at any minute we might need to cut and run, and I was constantly reminding her of it.

  “Your class doesn’t start for three hours.”

  Birdie groaned. She got sick of me being so overprotective of her, but she secretly loved and needed it. “Yes, but I need to study for a test. I’m meeting Trouble at Starbucks to chill out for a couple of hours. If I stay here with you, I’ll be too distracted.”

  I wanted to believe her, but something about her explanation didn’t sit right with me. Birdie had never been so dedicated to her studies before. She would usually cram for a test fifteen minutes beforehand in the parking lot while chugging a Rockstar. She didn’t even like coffee. And as far as her new friend Trouble? Well, the name said it all. Birdie had found the lost, homeless girl wandering through a casino, and they’d been inseparable ever since. I didn’t necessarily think she was a good influence for Birdie, but she was trying to make a point that it was time to relinquish some of my control over her life. The anxieties would never go away, but I knew that there would be a day when Birdie would decide she was ready to start taking baby steps toward her freedom, and it looked to me like that day was arriving.

  “Just be careful,” I pleaded with her. “Check in before you get to class, please. And when you’re on your way home.”

  “I will,” she promised.

  She never argued with me on these points because she knew it would make me sick with worry if she didn’t follow through. Birdie might have been a brat, but she loved me too, and she would never want to hurt me.

  I got out of the car and grabbed my suitcases, rolling them up to the sidewalk.

  “Hey,” Birdie called out after me. “How about dinner tonight? A celebration for when I ace this test.”

  I smiled. “Sure, that sounds good. How about Sinatra at seven? I’ll make us a reservation.”

  “Perfect!” she shouted. “Make sure it’s on the patio.”

  I rolled my eyes, but I ultimately relented, the way I always did with Birdie.

  THE AL FRESCO DINING EXPERIENCE at Sinatra was one that couldn’t be matched, and I often shared dinner there with Birdie when I was home between jobs.

  Nestled between giant white columns designed to make you feel as though you were in Italy, vibrant orange chairs created an intimate and cozy atmosphere on the patio. In front of the crackling fire, warmth bloomed in my stomach, and it wasn’t from the wine.

  I’d taken the day to recharge at the spa, and I felt amazing. In the process, I’d even managed to come up with some ideas to incentivize Birdie in her studies. A rewards-based program like those gold stars parents gave their kids on a chart for doing a good job. Except I was dealing with Birdie, so her rewards would be Prada and Gucci. I was excited to tell her about it because I was desperate to see her succeed.

  But I was already two glasses deep in rosé, and she hadn’t shown up. Discreetly, I pulled out my iphone and texted her again. She knew better than to make me wait like this. She knew better than to let me think the worst, which was exactly what I was doing.

  Fire. Car accident. Hostage situation. These were just a few of the thoughts racing through my mind like a freight train. But what it always came back to was something much worse.

  It wasn’t logical, but for years, I had considered the possibility that he had come back to haunt us. Even though I’d washed his blood from my hands. Even though he was declared dead and laid to rest. It always came back to him.

  It was an irrational fear, but that didn’t mean I was crazy. Ricky had a lot of friends who, for reasons I couldn’t fathom, felt some sort of loyalty to him. Just because he was dead didn’t mean the threat was.

  I glared at my phone for the thousandth time in thirty minutes, ready to call the waiter and ask for my check. This wasn’t getting me anywhere, and I couldn’t just sit here. I needed to find her.

  Those plans were at the forefront of my mind when I looked up, hoping to find the server nearby. Instead, my eyes collided with the six foot of lean muscle who had taken up residence in the empty seat across from me when I wasn’t looking.

  “Are you lost?” I scowled.

  “No.” He moved the napkin aside and set his empty glass on the table. “I think I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

  A chill moved over me at the deliberate way he said those words. I couldn’t dismiss this as coincidence. It wasn’t a coincidence that he was in New York with me two days ago, and now, he was sitting across from me in Las Vegas. Lucian West and I both had a taste for the finer things in life, but our paths had never crossed until this week.

  I made it my business to know the potential vipers in my surroundings, and as soon as I left that dive bar, I started researching him.

  What I’d discovered so far was that Lucian was a high-profile criminal attorney with a bankroll that made mine look like peanuts. He was in the public eye and known for being ruthless in the courtroom. It didn’t seem to bother him that the newspapers often labeled him as heartless, cynical, and self-serving. It also didn’t seem to bother him that he had been forever branded as the man without morals.

  In the last year alone, I found countless news articles regarding two of his clients. A celebrity and a professional footballer whose common thread were the crimes they were accused of. Murdering their own wives. It rubbed me the wrong way, but my ire was nothing compared to the public outcry when he actually won the cases and his clients walked free. It didn’t matter what the justice system had decided because in the court of public opinion, he was one of the most hated men in America.

  Sitting across from him now, I had my own thoughts about him. Something was unmistakably hard about the man. A real prince of darkness whose features matched his lightless soul. He had all the trappings of an aristocrat—broad shoulders and an angular jaw, eyes the color of hot coffee, and jet-black hair with only a hint of silver streaked through the side. In short, he was ridiculously handsome if you were into the devil. But the persisting media evidence was that he was never seen in the company of a woman. It only stirred more questions about what he was doing here with me.

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  He smirked. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  I reached for my Coach bag and moved to stand. “I don’t have time for this or you. I need to go.”

  “Sit.”

  His voice came out like a whip, soft but deadly. I glared back at him, wondering if he truly was insane.

  “Who the hell do you think you are?”

  “I’m sure by now you know who I am,” he answered. “Just as I know who you are, Gypsy Blue.”

  I collapsed into the chair with weak knees. Nobody knew that name. Nobody but Birdie. For as long as I could remember I’d been handing out fake names like candy. I could easily be a Kelly, or Brittney, or Sarah. But never Gypsy.

  “What do you want?” This time, the question was softer, and I hated that I’d shown him even a hint of vulnerability. But I had a feeling that it didn’t matter. This man was here to get what he wanted, one way or another
.

  “Your sister isn’t coming,” he said casually as he flagged down the waiter and ordered us both another drink.

  It hurt to breathe, and I knew I was on the verge of panic, but I tried to stay calm. I had learned the hard way that dramatics got you nowhere.

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s safe,” Lucian said. “For now.”

  “You motherfucker,” I hissed under my breath. “If you even think about hurting her—”

  “I have no reason to hurt your sister.” He fixed his gaze on my eyes in a way that made me feel as though he could see into my soul. “However, a few powerful men in this city might feel differently.”

  Mentally, the only detail I could grasp onto was that Birdie hadn’t been hurt. I was already making lists and planning our escape. I just needed to shake this guy first and get out of here. I would find her, and we would split. It didn’t matter what she’d done as long as she was safe.

  I glanced around the room, suddenly aware that the patio had been cleared and no new guests had been seated. Even the waiters had disappeared after bringing our drinks. It was just the two of us now.

  I leaned forward, adopting the position I often used to make men feel like I was gifting a piece of myself to them. “If it’s money you want, I have it. Just tell me where she is.”

  Even though my breasts were on display in the tight red dress, Lucian’s eyes never strayed from my face. That was how I knew I was in trouble.

  “I know you have money.” He plucked his glass from the table and swirled the amber liquid around the fat chunks of ice. “The money you’ve swindled from men all over this country. It appears that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree as far as your sister is concerned.”

  My fingers went numb under the weight of his implication. “Birdie doesn’t do that.”

  “How well can you really know a person when you’re never here?” Lucian cocked his head to the side. “You leave her alone while you’re gone. How would you know what she’s doing?”

  I gave up the pretense of niceties and leaned back in my chair, shielding my body with my purse. “Because she tells me, and she wouldn’t lie to me.”