Vice (7 page)

You’re not my son. I’ll never think of you as my son. You mean nothing to me.

Squeezing those memories out of his brain, he looked at Pearl. He took in the sympathetic slant of her eyes, knowing she felt the same way Kate did, that he should just let Michelle go. He’d shared the details of his custody suit with Pearl some time ago, and she’d also stated, albeit more diplomatically than Kate, that he should relinquish his claim.

Why was he the only one who seemed to understand he wanted to do right by the little girl?

Kate’s voice sounded in his head.
She’s not your daughter.

He recognized the truth in her statement, and his heart broke. All his success wouldn’t take this sort of hurt away either. It was the sort of pain that traditionally one could only forget with the help of copious amounts of alcohol. And even then the effect was temporary.

Pearl took a deep breath and gathered up her things. “I’ll let you know when I hear about the permit.”

He nodded in acknowledgment. “Thanks, Pearl.”

His work day finished, he once again looked out the window overlooking the entrance.

No Kate.

By now, even Wade was on the lookout for her. He’d asked about her a couple of times already. The security guard stood sentinel outside, craning his neck, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of her on the Strip. In just a few days they’d both gotten used to her being there and felt her absence, despite the fact she’d like nothing more than to see Vice burn to the ground. It should be funny.

So why wasn’t he laughing?

Temples throbbing, Liam left his office and hit the executive gym, determined to pound Kate’s memory out of his head. It did no good. As much as he tore up the treadmill, he couldn’t run away from her face. It seemed to follow him everywhere these days.

Feeling defeated for reasons he barely understood, he headed back to his suite. Eager to escape the working world for a few hours, he spent the night on his couch, indulging in a marathon of The Walking Dead.

But even the zombie apocalypse couldn’t dislodge the remembrance of red locks pulled back in a tight ponytail, or of the disappointment in her eyes.

Maybe they needed some more face time. Maybe he needed to explain.

But Kate was a no-show the next day as well. And the next, and the next. A week went by without Liam glimpsing her or her placard from the fourth floor.

The sore loser in him wanted a redo of their conversations. The sore loser in him wanted her back so he could erase her disappointment in him with a long, slow kiss. The sore loser in him needed to give her the most rollicking orgasm of her life, and drive her as crazy as she’d driven him.

He had to find her.

“I swear, I don’t know whether to hug Darren or to hit him.” The background hum in the room seemed to pause for a moment. “Kate? Are you in there?”

Her head snapped up. Damn! She’d lost focus. She’d never done that in group before, but it seemed she could barely concentrate the past few days. “I’m sorry, Audrey. I’m a little distracted. What were you saying?”

Audrey grinned and picked up a chocolate-chip cookie. “It’s okay. I get it. Sometimes I want to tune out, too.”

Kate felt the burn of guilt fester in the pit of her stomach. At least, group hadn’t started yet and she and Audrey had just been having a one-on-one conversation. It would have been embarrassing to lose focus during the session. Some leader she was.

And it was all Liam Doyle’s fault. Because of his personal situation, because of his anger toward her for telling him the truth, she hadn’t been able to think of much else. Clearly she’d become deranged. How else could she explain why she should be so affected by someone she didn’t even like or respect, or even know for that matter? Unless there was a part of her that wanted to know him better…

“Oh, crap.”

“Come again?”

Kate fumbled for a response. “It’s nothing.” Feeling hot in the face, she motioned to the others in the group. “Hey, everyone. It’s time to get started.”

Before she could say anything, Rod piped up. “So why did we stop picketing Vice? I thought we’d made a real impact on some of those visitors last time.”

“Yeah. Why the ceasefire, fearless leader?” asked Patti.

All heads turned toward Kate. “Um. I’ve been thinking about it, and I just don’t know if it’s the most effective course of action.”

“What do you mean?” asked Rod. “Even Liam Doyle noticed you. You spoke with the man. We need to keep up our momentum.”

“Yes, but…”

“No buts, Kate,” pressed Rod. “This is important. Why the backpedaling? It’s not like you.”

She stared at him, completely at a loss. She had no logical answer, only feelings running rampant in her core. She felt sorry for Liam Doyle. There, she’d acknowledged it to herself. He was going through a personal hell, and she supposed she just didn’t want to rub salt in the wound.

So maybe it made her look like a weakling, but she hadn’t been able to step foot near Vice all week. In fact, she’d avoided the Strip altogether, spending her evenings with Lisa and the kids instead.

Somehow, her badass side had shriveled up and died. Oh well, it wasn’t a mantle she wore easily. Besides, she felt like a hypocrite. She’d deposited another hundred dollars into her dad’s account again today, even though it was royalty money she couldn’t afford to lose.

Before she could respond to Rod, she heard a knock on the door of the meeting room. Being closest to the door, Rod got up and opened it, sticking his head out. He pulled it back in and turned around. “Kate, there’s a man here asking for you.”

Her pulse jumped and skittered.
Liam? Oh, Christ. Don’t be so silly
. What did she expect? That he’d pull up in a pumpkin carriage, offering her glass footwear?

She got up and went to the door. She stepped outside, moving her legs in small, tentative motions. Her movements came to an abrupt stop when she saw who stood in the hallway. Her breath came to a stop as well.

She must have paled because Rod touched her arm. “Hey, you okay? Do you want me to stay with you?”

She forced down the lump in her throat. “No, thanks. But could you take over the group for a bit?”

He looked at her and her visitor. “Okay. But if you need me, just knock.” He disappeared into the meeting room and shut the door behind him.

Louis Callender extended his arms and smiled. “My Katie. It’s been a long time.”

She avoided her father’s touch and stepped back, not wanting to be anywhere close to him. “What do you want, Dad?”

The corners of his mouth fell down and he let his arms drop. Anyone who didn’t know him well would think he was devastated by her cold demeanor. She didn’t care. Her father was many things, first and foremost a consummate actor. He had to be in order to swindle everyone he knew. “Why do you assume I want something, Katie-bug?”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, fighting her swelling anger. “And I know you want something because it’s the only time you ever show your face. How did you find me anyway?”

He looked around the New Horizons hallway with a hint of contempt, as if he were standing in the middle of his own intervention. “You’re always
here
. Does it actually do you any good?”

“More than you ever did.”

He ran a hand through his still-thick, auburn hair. She had to hand it to her dad. He certainly looked the part of a con man. Despite his age, he appeared ten years younger. He’d been blessed with terrific genes. The crinkly eyes and handsome face no doubt served him well when he looked for wealthy girlfriends to finance his habits. “I can’t believe my only daughter would talk to me like that. Didn’t I raise you better?”

“You didn’t raise me at all. Now what do you want?”

He stared at her for a long time, assessing her mood, planning his attack like a military tactician. “It hurts me that we can’t get along, sweetheart.”

“It’s hard to get along with someone who only shows up every couple of years begging for handouts.”

“Katie…”

“Are you here to seek help for your addiction?”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m some sort of crack head. I don’t need help.” He paced the hall for a couple of tense moments. “Look, I made some mistakes. I borrowed some money from some very bad people recently.”

“And this affects me how?”

“They want their money, sweetheart. These are men who won’t take no for an answer. I just need a small loan.” Tears filled his eyes. God, he could summon them so easily. “I’m scared, Katie. I need your help.”

“I can’t believe this.” She put a hand over her dry mouth. “Actually, I do believe this.”

“You don’t wanna see anything bad happen to your old man, do you? I just need five grand, Katie-bug. That’s all. And then I promise you, I’ll start attending those meetings. I’ll get help. You have my word.”

“Five grand? What about the money I’ve been depositing into your account? You gamble it all away, without so much as a thank you, and now you want five
thousand
more? What makes you think I even have that much?” She realized her voice was rising with each word, and tried to lower it.

“You have that cushy singing job. I know Calvert pays you well.”

“I don’t have that job anymore, and you don’t know a thing about me.”

He took a step toward her, his tone now menacing and desperate. “I’m just asking for a loan. Raise the money. Ask your friends. Maybe they can help you. I’ll take anything. These guys…that whole busted kneecap thing isn’t just a cliché to them, you understand? Think you can get off your frickin high horse long enough to help me?” He raised a hand as if to strike her.

A lightning-hot wound lanced through her already scarred heart. Without a word she knocked on the door to the meeting room. Rod was there in an instant.

“I’m done out here.” Her friend put an arm around her shoulder and led her back inside.

Her father called out as the door was shut. “They’ll hurt me, Katie! It’ll be on your head!”

Kate let Rod handle the rest of the meeting while she sat by the refreshments table and held the same cup of coffee for an hour.

As she listened to the droning sounds of the meeting around her, she feared she was finally plummeting toward rock bottom.

And it scared the crap out of her.

Chapter Five

Rod took her back to her apartment that evening. She normally would have taken the bus, but tonight she didn’t want to set out on her own. She didn’t put it past her dad to try again.

Rod stopped in front of her white stucco building on West Flamingo. “You sure you don’t want to talk about your visitor? You keep telling us we shouldn’t keep things bottled inside.”

She looked around. There was no one in sight. “No, I’m okay. Thanks. You go. I know your shift at the hospital already started.” With a hug, she got out of the car and waved as he drove off.

Her unit was a cozy walk-up on the second floor and she couldn’t wait to get inside and have a long bath. When she reached her landing, she looked around, feeling a prickle of unease. She looked around but the street was quiet. In her cul-de-sac, one could almost forget the Vegas Strip was a short drive away. She fumbled for her keys, only to drop them. Cursing, she bent over to retrieve them, thinking that this was usually the point in a movie where the serial killer leaped out.

She stuck her key in the lock and breathed a sigh of relief, glad not to have had another confrontation with her father.

Once inside, she flicked on the living room light, illuminating the coral painted walls. Home.

Now she could lose her shit big time.

“No,” she told herself. “Hold it together. You’re better than this.”

She dropped her purse and picked up the TV remote, hoping she’d find a trashy program featuring characters more messed up than she was. After a few minutes of scrolling through the guide, she turned it off, disappointed. She put down the remote, remembered her father’s words, and tried not to cry.

Just as her hands began to shake, there was a loud knock on her door. She jumped, steadied herself and shuffled to the door. Pulling aside the little flap from the peephole, she looked outside.

Liam Doyle stood at her door.

“What the…?”

Her hands shook even harder now. She fumbled with the lock as if she’d forgotten how it worked before she managed to open it.

The pair stared at each other, neither one speaking. No sign of designer suits today. Instead, he wore faded jeans that hugged his lower half, a black T-shirt that emphasized his cut frame and scuffed cowboy boots.

She’d considered him devastating in a custom-made suit, but this outfit made him look like a bad boy gone country. She struggled to find her voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, hello to you, too, sugar. Can I come in?”

“Okay.” She stepped aside to let him in, noting how he seemed to fill the doorway as he passed. Still clinging to the door, she stared at his figure, entranced. He looked like another man altogether today, but still dead sexy. She blinked and tried to clear her head. “How did you find me?”

“Your number is listed, you know.”

She shut the door and leaned on it, hands behind her back so he wouldn’t see her tremble. “Why are you here, Liam?”

“I get questions instead of a ‘Hello, how are you?’”

“Hello, how are you? Why the fuck are you here?”

He stood very still, and his gaze rested on her strand of pearls. He moved his hand as if to reach out for her, but let it fall to his side. “I haven’t seen you at Vice. I was…concerned.”

“I thought you would be relieved.”

“Yeah, I know, but for some strange reason I was worried instead. So, um, why did you stop coming?”

“Does it matter?”

“Indulge my curiosity.”

Those three words, echoing in her brain, made her throat thicken.
Indulge my curiosity.
Somehow, the way he’d said the words, they’d sounded dirty. Surely her frazzled mind made her imagine the heat in his eyes.

She blinked and the heat disappeared like vapor. “I’m sure you have more important things to be curious about.”

He cracked a smile, the first since he’d shown up. “You know, I gotta tell you, Kate. You’re a shitty hostess.”

She couldn’t help but grin in return. “I’m sorry. I’m not really prepared. You see, I gave the butler the night off and I forgot to defrost the canapés.”

“You really do think I’m an evil, rich dickhead, don’t you? That I don’t have a soul?”

“Not evil. I think I glimpsed your soul when you talked about Michelle. The rich dickhead part is still true, though.”

“Is that why you didn’t come back? Because you felt sorry for me?

Kate said nothing.

“I don’t want your pity, Kate.”

“What
do
you want?”

The moments the words left her mouth, she regretted it. It was getting hard to rein in a desire that she didn’t even understand. Yes, she felt concern for him, but right now, all she knew was a near-feral need. His looks and deep voice and even his arrogance turned her crank in such a way she knew from now on she’d compare every other man to him.

Still, he drove her nuts.

Liam seemed to have trouble finding his words. “I’m still trying to understand what I want. You’re not making it easy for me.”

Okay, so clearly she drove him around the bend a bit too. “What does that mean?”

He drew closer until their feet just about touched. He reached for her hand and she almost leaned into him. Almost, but not quite.

“Goddamn, you ask a lot of questions,” he said. “It means I don’t know what to make of you.”

Liam’s gaze dropped and traveled a hot path from her head to her toes, and her body responded to the visual caress. Already her nipples pebbled under her light shirt. To her horror, she realized she was practically leaning in for a kiss. The thought of him claiming her mouth had her weak in the knees.

Just when she suspected he wanted the same thing, he took a step back, but did not release her hand. “Look, sometimes my job requires me to act like an asshole, but I shouldn’t have been one to you when you were being honest with me. I’m sorry.”

Kate had no explanation for the barrage of sensations Liam caused all over her. His sensual voice made her ears perk up. His touch made her skin feel luxurious, like a warm, soapy bath. He might be less put together tonight, but was still just as much a feast for her eyes. She wanted to run her fingers over his washboard abs and fondle each plane and hollow. His stubble seemed a little thicker, almost a beard, as if he hadn’t trimmed it in a couple of days, and served to make him look more like a rugged lumberjack rather than a captain of Vegas industry.

His masculine beauty affected her the way a newly-discovered Van Gogh might affect an art collector.

She removed her hand from his and ran a shaky hand over her face, trying to rein herself in. “You don’t owe me an apology. I butted in where I wasn’t wanted. And I’m the last person who should be giving anyone advice.” Oddly comforted in his presence, she let her shoulders droop and sighed.

Liam put a finger under her chin. “Hey, what’s wrong? Tell me.”

“You really don’t want to know.”

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t ask. I’m a rich dickhead, remember?” He grinned and slowly removed his hand from her face.

“Okay. Fine.” She paused to collect her thoughts. “I’m even worse. I’m a fraud. I lecture others about hitting rock bottom, and the truth is I’ve never done it myself.” She looked up, expecting to see him judge her, but saw only a new heat in his blue eyes. “My dad’s an addict, and I’ve been enabling him for years. I can’t seem to stop. I’m scared to let him go cold turkey. I’m scared to stop giving him money. I’m scared. I’m just scared.”

Liam gazed at her for a time, then moved his hand back to her face, sliding his fingers over her cheek. She fought the urge to close her eyes and luxuriate in his touch. After what felt like forever, he smiled and spoke.

“Just because you’ve had trouble following your own advice doesn’t mean it’s not good advice. I was thinking about what you said, that I need to hit rock bottom. I figured I’d give it a shot tonight. Care to join me?”

Her heart leaped, and she nodded.

Liam spied the amused look on Kate’s face as they approached his truck. He opened the door to his old F150 for her. “What?”

“Nothing. I thought you were lying about the pick-up truck.”

“Would I lie about this beauty?” He patted the rusty exterior. “It might look like crap but it’s still a smooth ride. Another plus is the paparazzi expect me to drive a fancy car. When I’m in this thing, they don’t even see me.” She slid into the passenger seat and he leaned on the door. “What do you drive?”

“I don’t have my license.”

“How old are you?” he teased.

“Thirty.”

“Just a few years younger than me. You’re getting pretty ripe, woman. Time to get that learner’s permit.”

She grinned but her cheeks reddened. “I don’t drive because I have epilepsy.”

“Oh.” His face burned up as well. “Damn. I didn’t mean to…”

“Don’t worry about it.” She slapped her thigh in anticipation. “C’mon. Get in the car. Let’s go.”

He wondered about her condition. Were her seizures bad? How long had she suffered from them? Did she take medication? A million questions ran through his head, none of which were his business.

“Hey,” she said when he didn’t move. “Rock bottom’s not going to hit itself.”

“Right.” He shut the door and got in on the other side. As he started the engine, he noticed the way her denim-clad thighs looked next to his. Soft and round, tapering to an elegant knee. It was so tempting to reach over and run his fingers up her thigh. The thought gave him an immediate hard on, one he tried to disguise with an arm casually draped across his lap. Shit, he hadn’t come all this way to ogle Kate Callender’s legs or any other part of her for that matter. He’d come to get shit-faced with someone who understood his shame.

He peeled out of her neighborhood and headed for the Las Vegas Freeway, turning away from the Strip on W. Sahara Avenue. He wanted no flashing lights tonight, no reminders of who he was or where his obligations were. He wanted to be in a place that reminded him of his roots.

Once they were well on their way, Kate turned to him. “Where are we going?”

“A place I know called Franky’s.”

“Franky’s? Wait, I know that bar. It’s a total dive.”

Liam feigned horror. “Which makes it the best bar in town, even if it wasn’t run by my friend. Anyway, if it’s such a dive, how do you know it?”

“Like any professional singer, I’ve done my share of waitressing. One of my friends waitressed at Franky’s. I popped in once or twice.”

“I still can’t believe you’re a singer. So, do you wear a metal breastplate and horns on your head?”

She giggled. “No, I don’t sing opera. I sing torch songs. Piano-bar stuff.”

“Is that so?” Well, well. He still needed a crooner for Decadence. Maybe he could get her to sing for him. Too bad Franky didn’t offer karaoke so he could see what kind of skills she had. He’d never really been of the belief that the universe provided, but something had provided Kate.

“Any chance I’ve heard you somewhere?” he asked.

“Maybe. My one and only claim to fame is being the voice of Calvert’s Used Automobiles.”

“No shit? Those ads are so bad they’re good. You have a sexy singing voice, Kate.”

The roses on her cheeks made her few freckles pop. “Well, thanks, but you might not be hearing much of it in the future. I quit.”

“How come?”

“Let’s just say Mr. Calvert has busy hands and leave it at that.”

He turned, keeping his hands on the wheel, his eyes wide as he was hit with a strange combination of shock and anger. “Are you serious?”

“Yup. I’m officially out of a job.” She then threw him a smile. “Where do you think I got all this free time to bug you?”

“Ah, hell. Did you at least kick the bastard in the nuts?

“Actually, yeah.”

“Good. If you hadn’t, I would have offered up the services of some guys I know who’d be happy to do it for you.” No lie about it. Suddenly, he felt a strong desire to pummel that lemon-peddling shit Calvert.

She cocked an eyebrow. “No need for violence on my account. And anyway, I’m pretty capable in the nut-kicking department.”

“Well, tonight’s on me. I hope you can hold your liquor.”

“Do you always solve your problems with alcohol? You know that won’t work, right?”

“I know, but I’d like to forget one or two things for a while.”

“And how are we getting home afterward, Mr. Forgetful?”

Their banter made him smile. “Well, if we’re
really
successful at forgetting, I’ll call my driver. Franky won’t mind stowing my truck in his garage overnight. God knows no one will steal it. Don’t worry, I won’t abandon you.”

He could tell from her pensive expression she recalled their last conversation, all of it. “I could always take a bus,” she said. “I have before.”

“Not on my watch.” The idea of Kate waiting at a Vegas bus stop late at night was about the least appealing vision he could conjure up. It gave him a weird, nauseating stab in the gut, like it would end up as an episode of CSI someday.

It was time he admitted to himself that this woman fascinated him in a way he didn’t quite understand. From the moment she’d first set foot on the pavement near Vice, he hadn’t been able to wrestle her out of his head. Part of the reason he’d shown up at her door was the hope that spending an evening with Kate would allow him to see the real her. And that in getting to know her, he’d find something he disliked, and give himself a reason to stay away.

It wasn’t working. He did like her. A lot.

He wished he didn’t. He didn’t have time in his life for romance, or whatever foul desire plagued him. Romance, right. His inflated cock was
all
about romance right now. No doubt his cock wanted to order her some flowers and recite her some poetry, too.

No, he just wanted to sleep with her, and the slight hitch in her breath when she looked at him told him she wanted the same thing.

He stifled a laugh. As if she’d have him. He was pretty sure she still thought he had horns hidden under his hair somewhere.

They pulled in at Franky’s and parked near the back, right next to Franky’s Harley. While Kate gathered up her purse, he got out and opened her door for her. She put a foot on the ground and grasped his outstretched hand, eyes shimmering with a hint of disbelief. “No one opens doors for women anymore, do they?”