Page 54 of Vegas Daddies

Begrudgingly, I turn off and thread between high-rise buildings that block the sun. I remove the sunnies and concentrate on the road. It’s narrow. A one-way. At ten AM, traffic is light.

A red SUV drives ahead of me, turning off at the next left, leaving myself and the car behind me alone on the very long stretch of road. BMWs are rare around here, but not extinct. Only the super fucking wealthy are able to afford German imported vehicles like the one rolling behind me, especially black, glossy ones that sport all of the latest features.

I peer through the rearview mirror again to try and catch a glimpse of the person behind the wheel—it’s probably somebody famous. Once, I sawtheAdele in Vegas, and I didn’t think I’d ever see anyone better than that, but I’d love to prove myself wrong and find out that I’m being tailgated by someone like Jim Carrey down a side street in the heart of Vegas.

Tammy and Rachel would go crazy.

It would definitely avert their attention from the current state of affairs—me married to three bikers who I’m now banging regularly.

The blacked-out windshield makes it difficult to work out who the driver is, but I catch an outline of them when a spotlight of sunshine escapes through a gap. They’re tall, and they sit high in the seat. Although the face is still unrecognizable, a phone wedged in the crook of their shoulder tells me that they must be somebody important.

Maybe the car is a rental. Maybe they don’t want to connect their device to hands-free and have the car dealership spy into all of their phone conversations and text messages. Famous people are secretive. Daddy—not like he’s an award-winning Oscar nominee or anything—often avoids connecting to hands-free and getting his phone out in public because, according to him, “You never know who’s watching.”

I don’t know how much I believe that, though. It’s not like he restrains himself in the media and speaks in riddles whenever he’s interviewed. Announcing to the public that he plans to eradicate all Bratva groups in and around Las Vegas might be his biggest andonlyfuckup. People like him. He’s an agreeable man, and I see the sparkle in his eyes whenever people run into him on the street and say something positive. He loves making people happy and I think maybe, in some backward way, it eases the pain of losing Mom. He thought announcing his latest campaign would earn him even more respect and applause.

But actually it’s quite the opposite.

The congratulations mean nothing when your life is on the line.

And he doesn’t even fucking know it.

I just hope between them, my three husbands can pull something out of the bag and stop this before it’s all too late. Before I’m parentless and relying on sleeping pills to ease the grief of losing a parent all over again.

Nearing the end of the road, I glance at the rearview mirror to check if the sunlight has revealed any more of the mysterious celebrity. Nope.

But he’s no longer on the phone.

I turn my eyes back to the road.

Air freezes inside of me.

I gasp and slam my foot down on the pedal to emergency-stop the car before I slam into the red SUV that appeared suddenly out of thin air.

Pop!

A car door opens behind me.

I peer at the side-view mirror to see the driver’s side door of the BMW swing open to reveal, not my highly anticipated Jim Carrey, but the all-black figure from last night, the balaclava pulled tight over their head.

At least Ithinkit’s the same person.

The air starts to solidify inside of me. My brain urges me to get the fuck up and run, but fear has paralyzed my muscles. None of them want to move.

And the black figure strides closer.

And closer.

And—

I kick open my car door and make a run for it, past the red SUV that shot out of nowhere to cut me off. There’s no time to peer into the window and see who the driver is.Tunnel vision.I sprint, legs spinning behind me.

Until two arms swoop me up.

“Gotcha,” says the stranger. Also male.

Sunlight dies as the other attacker closes in. I catch the eyes of the man from the BMW for a second. They’re dark blue, and cold. Staring into them shoots an icy shiver right down to the base of my spine.

The ground moves beneath me.

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