Page 13 of Bad Blood
Dios mío.Did I not just order her to stop questioning me?
She needs an internship for college credit, so I’m giving her one.
I’m on her in less than two strides, my hands gripping her slim shoulders. “That’s right; youaremy sister. And that’s why I can’t have you flaunting your ass all over my casino. You’re a liability, Lola. I need you in a position that keeps you out of the public eye but always in my sight.”
A muffled sniffle causes me to glance over my shoulder, where I find Audrey watching us with glassy eyes and quivering lips.
“Why are you still here?” I demand.
Blinking, she backs up, nearly tripping over her own feet.
“You okay?” Lola asks. When Audrey nods, she swings her heated gaze back to me. “I don’t want to spend three months locked in an office, Santi.”
“It’s the safest place for both of us,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. “You have to admit, you’re a goddamn magnet for trouble.”
That’s putting it mildly. Carrera women are the sirens of the underworld.
“Santi, you—”
A crash interrupts her, and we both turn to find Audrey on her hands and knees, frantically shoving the strewn contents of her purse back inside it as if her life depends on it. We watch in silence as she stumbles to her feet, clutching her bag to her chest and trembling as she closes the door behind her.
Lola sighs. “You’re a bastard.”
“Don’t start,” I warn, shoving a finger in her face before turning toward my office with her right on my heels. “She’ll be well compensated for her troubles.”
“You keep treating people like that, you’re going to die alone.”
The words snake around my neck, sinking their truth into my jugular. “Didn’t you learn anything growing up?” I say, my tone razor-thin. “Carreras can’t outrun destiny.”
Chapter Five
Thalia
Legado is moreextravagant than I expected. And taller… Like a glimmering, rose-gold castle of sin, rising up from the depths of hell to high five the skyline.
Theporte-cochèreis dripping with thick green ivy and big enough to fit at least a dozen cars. Bardi pulls up behind a Porsche Cayenne and we sit in silence, watching parades of money exit their rich-people vehicles and sashay up the black marble front steps and into the glass-fronted lobby. There’s not a hint of Vegas cliché about any of it. All the prowling bride-to-be packs have been herded up and penned into some other, less exclusive casino down the road.
The muscles-in-tuxes on the front door have a mean gangster look about them that’s ricocheting unease around my stomach. I know security like that. I’ve been around them all my life. In fact, I’m straight-up ignoring mine...
My cell has eighteen missed calls from Reece already. I won’t be able to joke my way out of this one. The new guys he'd put in charge of my security were doing a great job, until I used the bathroom window escape route from a bar on 16th Avenue. As arranged, Bardi was out front waiting for me.
Thirty minutes later…
“Why here?” I ask, tugging the hemline down on tonight’s designer dress—a claret-red showstopper with embellished maroon detail that rises and falls with the curves of my body like the waves of an ocean. I hate it, but not as much as I hate the asshole sitting in the seat next to me. Bardi’s been staring at my legs all journey long, and the unwanted attention has left me with two clenched fists.
It doesn’t help that I’m running on empty. Adrenaline hasn’t allowed me much sleep this week, but it’s a small price to pay. I just want out of this mess, and to go back to playing family politics and looking after my sister again.
Fifty thousand. That’s all I need.
“Legado is the best in America’s Playground.” Bardi gives me one of his irritating laughs. “I thought you could start with pure gold and end up with the shitty bronzes where old folk mainline slot machines like junkies.”
I glance at the casino entrance again. In a place like this—if I play super smart—I’ll be coasting home on a tank of relief by midnight.
“Nice dress.” He shifts in his seat, and I catch the foul odor of a fresh wave of sleaze. “Maybe we can come to some arrangement if you come up short... I reckon you'd be worth a couple of grand.”
I grind my teeth together before one of my fists makes another dent in his eye socket. He’s twenty-five, and not nearly as hot as he thinks he is.
He’s smart, though... Like back-up plan smart. Like don’t fuck with me, bitch, because I’ll press that button regardless smart. He knows there’s no way out for me tonight, other than up those damn marble steps.
