Ava Gray - Skin Game

“Just pool halls . . .” Maria was saying. “Umm. Rack ’Em in Aurora is good for pool. Or you could try Pete’s on East Colfax.”

Kyra nodded. “Great, thanks.”

“You ready?” He didn’t know whether she’d want to go out tonight after driving all day. It was sobering to realize how short a time he’d known her, relatively speaking.

“Yep.” She headed back to the Marquis.

Reyes walked behind her, scanning the parking lot for trouble. The red Kawasaki was still there, but he didn’t see the bearded guy. Maybe he was just visiting somebody here—or meeting someone. People often didn’t want to have affairs on their home turf, so they’d meet up in a town where nobody knew either of them. The biker might’ve come from New Mexico to meet his piece on the side. They might be upstairs right now, doing the horizontal mambo, moaning over how much sharper and more exciting it was to do it when it felt like they were getting away with something.

She cut him a look as she demanded the car keys. “I’ll pull around back. We’re on the other side, upstairs.”

“Thanks. I hate ground-floor rooms.” Not that he’d stayed in such places for years. He had a gorgeous condo in Long Beach that he hadn’t seen in weeks.

Ducking her head, she looked a little shy. “I know. I remembered.”

“So you booked upstairs for me?” Damn. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had taken note of his personal preference and tried to accommodate. A weird sensation made his chest feel like it was too small.

“I guess. It’s no big.”

It was, but he didn’t embarrass her by pursuing it. “What numbers?”

“Two-ten and two-eleven. We’re in adjoining rooms. I hope that’s okay.”

Reyes raised a brow. “Planning to visit me?”

“I dunno.” She shrugged. “Maybe.”

That invited all kind of questions, but she seemed edgy this afternoon, so he didn’t push her. Kyra inserted the key and popped the trunk, but before she could move, he took her things along with his. To his surprise, she didn’t argue; she just shut it, locked all four doors, and headed up behind him.

External stairs, he noticed. No elevator. No security, not even an old bellhop. This place was a disaster waiting to happen. Reyes held the bags lightly. If need be, he could hurl them at an attacker, and disable him in less than five seconds. He was almost disappointed when they made it to their rooms unscathed. She handed him his envelope with the key card in it.

“I’ll take two-ten, if that’s all right.” He’d be better placed to hear anyone coming for her, unless they circled the long way from the other side.

“Sure.” She hesitated, fidgeting, quite unlike herself. “You want to order pizza later and watch a movie on pay-per-view?”

Astonishment swamped him; it was a wonder his mouth didn’t drop open. Was she asking him on a date ? He said the first thing that came to mind: “This place has pay-per-view?”

That answered his question about whether she wanted to get right to work. The answer was no. Apparently she wanted another night off . . . with him. Shit, he was in so much trouble . . . because he wanted it, too.

Kyra gave a little huff and smiled. “Yeah, they do. Not the newest releases, I’m sure, but I haven’t been to the movies in years, so they’ll all be new to me.”

“Sounds good. Give me a few minutes to take a shower?” After the long, dusty ride, he needed one.

Her tawny gaze swept his body, making him feel downright naked. “I guess you’re worth waiting for.”

With her looking at him like that, he felt like dragging her into his room and doing her hard, regardless of what she said about it. The little taste in the car hadn’t done anything to diminish his desire. In fact, he could still feel her hands on him whenever he thought about it, her smooth fingers working his cock convulsively, fueled by her own rising orgasm. Heat slammed through him.

“Shower first,” he muttered, nearly undone by her husky laugh as she noticed her effect on him. He handed Kyra her bag. “Cold one. I’ll be there later.”

“I’ll be here.”

“You better be.”

She took a step toward her room, and he focused on the sweet curve of her ass, nicely framed in faded denim. Reyes found himself unable to let her step away without putting his mark on her, claiming her as his. The instinct went deeper than anything he’d ever experienced. It made no sense at all. Not caring who might be watching, he came after her and took her mouth in a deep, fierce kiss.

The hell with this. He wasn’t made for denial. No shower, at least not alone.

“Unlock the door on your side,” he bit out. “Now.”

Gerard Serrano returned to the United States with a minimum of fuss.

It took a day for talk to start circulating, and he eavesdropped on his employees using the technology he’d installed in the break rooms and changing areas, expressly for that purpose. He hadn’t gotten where he was without a deserved reputation for being prepared. If he didn’t know everything about his domain—or at least have the potential to do so—then he deserved whatever happened to him.

Settling into his leather office chair, he powered up his desktop system and input a password. He didn’t keep it written down anywhere. It wasn’t a personal fact that someone could guess, and he changed it on a weekly basis. Serrano prided himself on being a careful, methodical man.

Smiling in anticipation, he brought up the streaming feed from the lounge. A couple of security guys whose names he didn’t recall offhand sat at a table covered in the remnants of a fast-food lunch. At first they only talked about things that had happened so far on their shift. They mentioned an elderly couple trying to make off without paying for the breakfast buffet. Serrano shook his head; that was the least of his worries.

While they gossiped like little girls, he looked up their personnel files: Rick Calloway and Dave Brody, both in their late twenties, both a couple of slackers with little to no ambition. Calloway was a tall, thin drink of water, and Dave was just average in every respect. Just as he was about to get bored and attend to more pressing business, the conversation shifted.

Dave leaned in over his cheesy burger wrapper. “You heard yet?”

“Heard what?” Calloway picked at his fries, which looked cold and disgusting even through the grainy feed.

“About Wayne, man. He didn’t come back with the boss.”

Rick wasn’t as dumb as he looked because he said, “Shit. He heard about—”

“Totally,” Dave said.

The other man’s hands clenched on the table. “You think he knows our part in it?”

Ah. Interesting. So it had been a team effort. Serrano tapped his fingers against his mahogany desk, thoughtful.

“Nah, man. If he did, he woulda invited us to Sweden and pushed us out of a plane over the ocean somewhere, too.”

Calloway looked nervous. “I dunno. Maybe we should get out of town. I don’t think we should work here anymore. You never know what might happen.”

“C’mon. This is a great job. Where else could I sleep instead of doing real work? As long as nothing catches on fire, it’s cool.”

Serrano narrowed his eyes. So he was paying Brody to slack? He’d tell Foster to ride him like a cheap whore, if he didn’t have the loser killed. He was still considering the angles.

“I’m telling you, Dave, if you’re smart, you’ll get the hell out. Serrano runs this place like he’s Don Corleone. He thinks he can just disappear somebody and nobody will ask questions. Hell, man, think about it. He did .”

Brody shrugged. “It’s not like this is the Wild West. It’s not even old-school Vegas these days. The Feds are everywhere . . . gangsters don’t run the town anymore. I’m not dumb enough to get on a private plane with him, and I’ll watch my back. I’ll be fine.”