Vice (4 page)

From the furrow of his brow, Kate thought she’d struck a nerve. His tanned skin seemed paler. After a moment, he said, “So you’re trying to take down my casino with a one-woman picket line? No offense, but I’ve seen better protests at a garage sale.”

“I’m trying to create awareness.” Kate stood, having already had enough of their uncomfortable conversation. “I’m not a fool. My intention is not to shut down Las Vegas, or your casino. That’ll never happen. But if I can make a small dent in the wallet of the Strip’s wealthiest hustler during his opening week, then maybe people will take notice. Have you never thought about the addictions riding your customers? Have you ever spent time chatting with the compulsive gamblers downstairs? Because I bet you’d hear a lot of stories. And believe me, the worst ones are the ones they don’t tell.” She paused for breath. “My friend’s husband is probably down there right now, feeding your slot machines instead of his kids.”

“Hold on. Don’t pin that on me.”

“Oh? Who
do
I pin it on?”

“Look, if you want a donation, I already make plenty. Believe me, I make regular donations to people like Gam-Anon. You know,
legitimate
charities.”

“I’m not here for money, but clearly you are.” The words spilled out of her, kick-started by adrenaline. “You’re a wealthy man. Did you have to open casinos? Were they such a passion for you? Couldn’t you have opened, I don’t know, a supermarket chain instead? Or was that not sexy enough for the great Liam Doyle?”

His lips compressed. Had her comment hit home? Good.

“You have no right…”

“I have
every
right.” Her face was burning now. “If I can save even a few lost souls from places like this, then I’ll sleep a whole lot easier.”

She had to get out before she started crying. She wanted to leave with her head held high. Leave him thinking. She turned and headed for the elevator, but he grabbed her hand before she could get away.

“Wait.”

Kate yanked her hand out of his grip. “How do you even sleep, Mr. Doyle?”

His eyes bored into her. “Like a rock. But that crown of thorns must keep you up at night.”

She tried to appear like she was still in control, but that had hurt. “You just keep telling yourself that.”

Kate marched to the elevator and punched the button. As the door opened, she threw a look back at him.

“By the way, I
will
be back. I’ll show you how many lives have been devastated by your casinos.” She walked into the lift, even though she felt like running. She didn’t look back.

Liam called out to her. “Watch your step, Ms. Callender. I don’t forgive and forget.”

She channeled her last ounce of bravado before the doors shut. “You really should see someone for that. I hear being an asshole can be terminal.”

Once the elevator began its descent, Kate leaned against the back of the small space and closed her eyes, winded by her hostile exchange with Doyle. She didn’t open them again until the door opened.

That night, Liam did sleep well—until about 3am, when he woke with a pounding headache.

He stumbled out of bed, eager for a glass of water. He attributed the headache to any number of things. Despite little hiccups, the grand opening at Vice had gone smoothly. More bothersome was a recent rash of thefts at Sin, his first casino, ones that appeared to be an inside job. He treated his staff well, and nothing irked him quite as much as betrayal from those in his inner circle.

Been there, done that, didn’t want to do it again. Thank God he could rely on his security team.

Then there was the problem getting permits for his next venture. Why city officials wanted to save that crumbling old government office off Fremont Street was beyond him. There was no way the derelict shell that used to house the old works department could be considered of historical significance.

On top of that was his issue with Bridget, his ex-girlfriend and the way she continued to keep him away from the one person who meant anything to him, Michelle. Luckily, he had his new hotshot lawyer on the case, and it would soon be resolved to his satisfaction. Michelle would be back under his roof in no time, and not a moment too soon.

Christ, he missed her.

He rubbed his face. Yes, each of these issues had kept him up on previous nights. However, even as he padded through his condo on yet another night-time quest for water, he knew this time the ache in his brain had a different origin.

One with knockout curves and auburn hair.

Why on Earth should he be so affected by Kate Callender, the singer on a crusade?

I don’t respect your work, Mr. Doyle. And I don’t respect you.

Bull’s-eye.

He’d been called a lot of things during his career, and knew full well many resented his meteoric rise in Vegas society, but no one had ever put so fine a point on it. He supposed it stung because in a town where there were no limitations, he’d always conducted business above board. Yes, he owned casinos. Yes, tons of folks out there had issues with gambling. Still, he didn’t force those people into his clubs, didn’t coerce them to spend their hard-earned dollars there. He simply provided venues for entertainment.

In fact, just as a good bartender kept an eye out for drunks, his employees were trained to watch out for customers who might also have had enough. He didn’t like the idea of taking someone’s last dollar. Ethics aside, it was bad for business. Kate Callender might see him as a mustache-twirling villain, holding bags of other people’s money, but he knew the truth.

Vice, along with his other casinos, was merely a business venture, and he’d wager most of his customers knew when to call it quits. As for those who didn’t? Well, that was why he sent a lot of money in Gam-Anon’s direction.

So why did none of that seem to matter when faced with that silly woman’s stinging barbs?

He poured himself a glass of water and chugged it, then set the glass in the sink and stared at it.

Damn. What did he care if she despised him? More important people already did. Kate Callender was no one to him and never would be. Just a momentary inconvenience, she would soon pass out of his life and he needn’t think of her again.

Still, his mind wandered as he pictured her. Upon reflection, she hadn’t been quite the ethereal creature he thought he’d spied from the fourth floor. She had flaws: a bountiful figure, a generous nose, and ears that, while sort of endearing in an annoying way, stuck out a bit. It was possible her eyes might even be somewhat asymmetrical, one a tiny bit smaller than the other. He’d noticed it when she glared at him.

However, on her, somehow it all worked. Like Cleopatra, she might not be the most beautiful woman in the world, but she wore her looks well.

They made a man curious.

He wanted to drag the ponytail elastic out of her hair and watch the red strands tumble around her shoulders. He could admit he felt a weird compulsion to touch her again to see if her skin was as soft as he remembered. And those hazel eyes that flashed in anger? He wondered what else could make them sparkle.

He was most intrigued by the flirt he’d seen in her eyes when he’d first approached her outside, and was intoxicated by the idea of seeing it again. He drummed his fingers on the counter, realizing he wanted to see much more than that. He wanted to see how her face would transform after he spread those voluptuous legs.

“Shit,” he muttered to himself. “Okay, on some fucked up level you find her hot. So what? The woman wants to bury you. Forget her.”

Determined to do just that, Liam fired up his laptop and set it on the counter. Plunking himself down on one of his bar stools, he decided to clear a few emails in an attempt to ignore his hard-on. Within minutes, his phone buzzed with an incoming text. He pulled it out, discovering a missive from Bridget.

We need to talk. Can I come to your office tomorrow?

He quickly entered his response.
Talk to my lawyer.

Please
.

I’m busy.

I just want five minutes. No lawyers. Just us.
A pause.
I’ll bring Michelle. You two can catch up.

He stared at the screen and willed himself not to get excited, not after his hopes had been dashed so many times.

Liam? Are you there?

I’m here. Why should I trust you?

Do you honestly think I’d fuck with you like that?

You have before.

Another pause.
I’m sorry for what I did. You have to know that. Will you hate me forever?

Biting back anger, he lifted his thumbs from the key pad before he keyed something he would regret later. She thought a few clumsy apologies could do the trick?

He’d never forgive her.

And once his attorney, Nando Perreira of the famed Perreira, Michaels and Johnson was done with her, she’d understand exactly how unforgiving he could be.

You swear you’ll bring Michelle? You’ve reneged before.

I swear.

He didn’t believe her. It was just like Bridget to keep their daughter away from him. Scratch that,
her
daughter. She’d made it very clear Michelle wasn’t his. She used her own child as a pawn and it sickened him, but it didn’t lessen his need to see the little sprite.

He couldn’t take that chance.
I have an opening at 4pm.

Perfect. We’ll see you then. Good night, Liam. Thank you
.

Liam didn’t reply. He had no words to describe his feelings, just a sick lump of dread in his gut.

Chapter Three

With barely a slurp of her beloved morning coffee, Kate hurried over to Lisa’s mom’s house. Lisa had had a bad night. After trolling the Strip, looking for her wayward husband to ensure he wasn’t dead in a back alley, she hadn’t gotten much rest. Kate had insisted she stay home and get some sleep.

Lisa’s mom worked the early shift in a fast-food taco joint just off the Strip, and couldn’t take her grandkids to school that day, so Kate had volunteered to walk them to their bus stop. Luckily, she lived very close to their neighborhood and could powerwalk to the house.

A bleary-eyed Lisa met her at the door, holding two backpacks. Dark circles set in a wan face rimmed her pretty eyes. She offered Lisa a hug, and couldn’t help but notice how her normally-lush figure seemed more fragile today. “Lisa, please tell me you’re eating.”

Lisa stared into the distance a moment, as if eating were a novelty. “Uh, yeah. I had a bit of dinner last night.”

“Which was?”

She blushed. “Half a Toaster Strudel.”

Kate wished Donny were there so she could smack him in the head and knock some sense into him. She checked her watch. “How much time before the school bus comes?”

“Thirty minutes or so.”

She put her hands on Lisa’s shoulders and marched her back into the house. “All right, young lady.” She guided her to the kitchen and made her sit in one of the chairs at the table. “Have Georgie and Sarah eaten?”

“I made them their favorite today. They’re just brushing their teeth now.”

Kate felt the need to stare her pal down. Leave it to Lisa to make sure her kids were washed and well-fed, while neglecting herself in the process. Once again, memories of her mother washed over her. Elspeth Callender had always taken pains to ensure Kate had what she needed growing up, while always denying herself. Kate fingered the pearl choker at her neck and silently vowed she wouldn’t let Lisa go down the same path. She let out a deep breath. “Okay. You sit there and I’ll throw a proper breakfast together for you. And I want you to promise you’ll eat every bite before you go to bed.”

Lisa managed a small smile. “I promise. Thanks.”

Kate smiled. “No problemo.”

The little kitchen was soon humming with the sounds of coffee brewing and toast popping. Keeping an eye on the clock, Kate plated her less-then-gourmet meal of whole-grain toast, poached eggs and apple slices. She poured some coffee into a mug and added an extra teaspoon of sugar, because Lisa deserved a bit of sweetness too.

“Aren’t you joining me?” asked Lisa.

“Nah. You go ahead.”

“Still doing the gluten-free, carb-free, taste-free thing?”

“Just trying to get healthy. Although, between you and me, I’d trade my arugula salads for a peanut butter milkshake any day.”

She laid the meal before her friend, but Lisa only picked at the food. “How did it go when you told your dad you weren’t going to support his gambling anymore?” she asked. “I mean, did he say anything at all? Because Donny’s response has me mystified. I need to know exactly what you did so I can do it too.”

Kate tried not to look like a deer caught in the headlights. “Well…” she began in a tentative voice.

Luckily the kids chose that moment to descend from the upstairs bathroom. Kate breathed a sigh of relief. Sarah, a willowy eight-year-old, walked over and hugged Kate, saying nothing.

Kate kissed the top of her head. “Hey, kiddo. Ready for school?”

Sarah nodded and walked over to her mom, taking advantage of one more morning cuddle.

As something in her heart pinched, Kate plastered on her brightest smile and turned to the younger brother Georgie. “You are definitely taller than yesterday, George, my man.”

At six, Georgie contemplated this news with a tilt of his head. He stood closer to Kate, measuring himself against her with his hand. “No, Auntie Kate. Look, my hand is still in the same place.”

She threw up her hands in mock surprise. “Well, you look taller to me!” She rustled his hair. “Let’s get you two to the bus stop.”

Georgie tugged on her pant leg and whispered, “Do you know when Daddy’s coming back?”

Kate crouched and whispered back. “Tell you what. When I find out, you’ll be the first to know.”

The little boy accepted her answer, but the two women shared a worried glance.

Georgie raised his voice. “Grandma says Daddy is a rat bastard.”

In spite of trying to act like a proper role model, Kate snorted a laugh.

“Georgie,” cried Sarah, as she slid off her mom’s lap and picked up her backpack. “Those are bad words.”

The little boy shrugged. “Grandma says them all the time. Why can’t I say them?”

Lisa helped Kate bundle the pair toward the door. “Just don’t say them at school, okay?” She kissed them both and wished them a good day. She then hugged Kate again. “Are you sure you don’t mind picking them up later?”

“Nope. These are the joys of being unemployed. I can do whatever I want.” She grinned. “Besides, didn’t you know I’m a woman on a mission?”

“Oh, right.” Lisa elbowed her in jest. “Your single handed quest to take down Liam Doyle and his multi-million dollar empire.”

“Hey, don’t laugh. Yesterday I got an audience with his Lordship.”

Lisa did a double take. “Seriously?” She leaned in closer. “Is he really as sexy as they say he is?”

Kate bit her tongue, unwilling to admit the truth out loud. “He’s okay, I guess. If you like his type.”

“And what type is that?”

“Tall, dark and predatory.” She pulled herself up to her full height. “But that’s neither here nor there. He’s probably laughing behind my back, but I’ll make him see his business for what it is. And if I can make Liam Doyle realize it, others will too.”

“I admire you so much. You’re a revolutionary, my friend.”

Kate laughed. “I don’t know about that. More like a single crazy person with a lot of free time on their hands. And besides, most revolutionaries usually end up with a bullet to the brain. I think I’d prefer a happier ending.”

Lisa shrugged. “Well, you know you don’t have to be a single crazy person out there. What’s a revolutionary leader without a few die-hard followers?”

On that note, Kate led the kids outside and headed to the bus stop.

A few minutes later, Kate waved at the bus as it carried off her charges. She stood there for some time observing how the exhaust fumes drifted upward, polluting an already-polluted environment, reminding her of the smoke at Vice.

She roused herself into action and wandered down the street toward the strip mall at the end. Bypassing her favorite coffee shop, she made a beeline for the Citibank branch. She willed herself not to check her mother’s old bank account at the ATM, the one they’d never closed. She could just do her own banking like a normal person, instead of worrying what mischief her father was getting into.

Hating herself for even thinking about him, she fed the machine her bank card and punched in her PIN number. She checked out her balance and breathed a sigh of relief. For someone who didn’t have a job, she still had money to her name—for now. Mr. Calvert might have fired her, but her royalties hadn’t run out yet.

Thank God for her frugal nature. Sure, she coveted the Louboutins and Jimmy Choos like any red-blooded woman. She just didn’t allow herself to indulge. After witnessing her father’s descent over the years, she preferred to keep a tight lid on her funds.

She moved a few dollars around, transferring funds into her bill-paying account, printed the applicable receipts, and stared at them.

Old guilt tightened its stranglehold on her. She took out her mom’s old bank card, inserted it and checked the account her parents had shared. She printed the list of recent activity, all of which were debit transactions from the local casinos. Fifty dollars at Caesar’s. Fifty at the Bellagio. Fifty at the Flamingo. Oh, and to make things even better, one hundred dollars at Vegas’s newest attraction, Vice.

The list went on and on. The last deposit had been hers, two weeks back. She’d transferred over two thousand dollars, hoping he would use it for food or rent, and not poker chips.

Well, she’d always been a dreamer.

“Just take out the card and walk away,” she urged herself. “Don’t give him any more. He has to hit rock bottom.”

A memory from her teen years flashed before her eyes. Her dad, coming home from work, pale and shocked. She’d run to him to ask what was wrong.

“Oh, Katie-bug,” he’d cried. “Someone stole my wallet on the bus!”

“Oh, Dad, no. Are you sure?”

“Yeah. My credit cards, everything. I had it in my pocket. Someone must have reached in when I wasn’t looking.” He’d blanched. “Katie, my pay was in there. Five hundred cash, gone.”

Her dad, a mechanic, worked for an old-timer who still paid his employees with cash—a major temptation for someone who gambled.

“I can’t tell your mother. She’ll be so disappointed in me. I was supposed to pay the bills this month.” He’d looked at her, as if seized by a wonderful idea. “Katie, you have a bit of money saved up from your job, right?”

She did. She ran the local church choir and was given a small amount for her troubles. Not much, but it felt like untold riches to a kid.

“Loan me the money, sweetheart. I’ll pay it back, I swear. Then we don’t have to bother your mom with this business.”

He’d walked her right to the nearest bank and watched as his child withdrew her own money for him. Before handing it over, she’d asked, “Dad, are you going to gamble with this?”

He’d had the gall to look affronted. “I can’t believe my own daughter would ask me that. Didn’t I raise you better?”

She’d handed it over and waited for the thanks that never came. And despite his many assurances, she’d never seen the money again.

She’d been enabling him, in one way or another, ever since. After her mom died, she worried about her dad’s ability to take care of himself. For the past few years, she regularly put money in his account, convinced he was starving somewhere. Every time she checked the balance, the money was gone, used for bets.

And every week she spouted garbage to her New Horizons friends about cutting gamblers off, letting them hit rock bottom for their own good, and she hadn’t let her father do the same yet.

She felt sure the word
coward
or
hypocrite
was tattooed over her face. How could she allow this pattern to continue? He’d disappointed her so many times, yet a small part of her waited for him to prove her wrong, to show her he was worthy of her love and trust.

Would it ever come?

She played with her finances a bit more, shaving off a bit more from her piddly savings. A lump formed in her throat as she deposited one hundred dollars into her father’s account. It wasn’t much. Maybe this time he’d put it to good use. Maybe. Her eyes stung as she yanked the bank card out of the machine.

Clutching her purse, and blinking back tears, she fled the bank.

Liam passed Kate on the way to his car the next morning. Headed to a meeting at City Hall, he was already in a bad mood, expecting push back from the city building department about his permit and worrying about his meeting with Bridget after that. Having to see Kate Callender’s new sign,
Don’t Let Liam Doyle Control Your Pocketbook!
just put the icing on an unpalatable cake.

She made a big show of curtseying like a simpering courtier as he passed her on the walkway.

“How are you, Milord? Does the emperor need new clothes?”

“Funny. No, unlike you, I have places to go and people to see.”

“Oh, I’m seeing lots of people right here. And guess what? They seem to like talking to me. I think I’m making some progress.”

“How awesome you have a hobby.” He ambled closer. “Tell me, Ms. Callender. Do all your goals involve sabotaging those of others?”

“Only this one,” she said smiling, her hazel eyes practically twinkling with mirth. “And something tells me, at the end of the day, you’ll still be sitting pretty.”

He couldn’t resist grinning, just a little. “You think I’m cute, don’t you?”

The twinkle in her eyes turned hard as she pointed to where one of his assistants waited with the Escalade. “I think you’d be cuter all the way over there in your penis-mobile. Tell me, is everything in your life so damned big?”

She reddened as soon as she realized how her question could be misinterpreted. Liam tried not to laugh. He leaned in and whispered, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

She looked away. “Not in the least.”

He decided to let her off the hook. “As for the Escalade, it’s just the work car. Would you believe my other car is a ten-year-old pick up?”

“Believe me when I say I couldn’t care less.”

This time he did laugh. She had spunk, he’d give her that. If she didn’t irritate him so much, he might even like her. He waved as he left for his car. “Have a rewarding day, Ms. Callender.”

“Oh, I will. Maybe not as monetarily rewarding as yours, but I’ll be fine.”

Liam couldn’t resist one last jab. “Maybe?”

The look on her face made getting the last word in worth it. Stifling a grin, he got into the car and told the driver where to head. And then, because his dick demanded it, he stole another glance at her.

She wiggled her fingers at him in a way that set him even more on edge. As they drove off, he pictured taking those pretty hands and pinning them over her head as he found a home between her legs.

His hands grew clammy. He realized with startling clarity that the image would become reality. He knew it.

God help him. He
wanted
it.

Hours later, Liam watched from the fourth floor as Kate and her associates marched in front of the entrance to Vice. When he’d returned from City Hall, she’d accosted him again, promising him reinforcements were coming. Part of him had thought she meant the imaginary kind. Unicorns and fairies and centaurs. But true to her word, about fifteen people had shown up.

Her distinctly-human pals all had placards, and none appeared to be particularly loony. One man was even dressed in scrubs. Had she bribed a doctor to support her cause, or just rented a costume?