You've Got Fail Read online

  “Thanks.” I headed back toward the front door, his living room décor masculine and friendly in the morning light. The set of Transformers action figures along the back of the kitchen sink made me smile, and I couldn’t miss the books scattered all over the place. The whole apartment said “bachelor,” or more accurately, “Willis.”

  I reached for the front door handle, but his hand met mine, covering the back of it.

  “You sure you have to go?” His warm breath tickled my ear as his palm lighted on my waist.

  Leaning back against his hard chest, I ached for a chance at mindless abandon with him. His hands, his mouth, his everything.

  My heart thunked hard against my ribs as he dotted light kisses along the side of my neck. I could leave, just walk out and keep things professional—that was the smart plan. His kisses numbed my logic, each flutter of his lips a step closer to disaster. But nothing about this was a good idea. He’d agree with me if he’d been thinking straight.

  Problem was, I’d never played it safe. I turned, and he kissed me full on the mouth, his tongue twirling with mine as he twisted me to face him and pinned me against the door.

  Had I ever been kissed like this? He tangled a hand in my hair, roping it and pulling so he could deepen the kiss. I dug my nails into his back as he pressed his body to mine, my nipples brushing his chest with each hasty breath. Sliding one hand to my ass, he gripped, and a small moan escaped me. Our tongues caressed and sought, each of us giving the other our breath, our heat. He kissed with a rough intensity, a need that matched my own.

  I hitched up a knee as he slid his thigh between my legs. He smoothed his palm down my skin, edging beneath the fabric of my dress. I gasped as he came up for air and fastened his lips to my throat. Pleasure overrode every other emotion that tried to flicker to life inside me. When he shifted his leg against me, massaging my pussy with small strokes, I went weak like the love-starved hussy I was.

  He shifted both hands to my ass and lifted, returning us to his bedroom as he took my mouth again. Laying me down, he covered me with his body. I kept my legs wrapped around his waist as he settled us into the bed, his mouth drugging me with kiss after kiss as he rocked his hips against mine. My clit was already throbbing, desperate for attention, and the thin fabric of my panties soaked.

  I clutched his hair as he kissed to my chest, his tongue dragging a trail of fire along the tops of my breasts. My back arched, and he yanked down one side of the dress and captured a hard nipple in his mouth. A streak of arousal burst through me, coating everything in heat, and my mind blanked. He sucked and licked the hard bud until I was writhing beneath him. Then he repeated it with my other nipple until I was nothing more than a puddle of need.

  Releasing the stiff bud with a pop, he edged down my body. When his wide palms spread along my inner thighs and pushed, I opened for him.

  “Fucking hell.” His dark blue eyes met mine as he shoved my skirt up my hips. “Pink panties.” He licked the satin. “So wet.”

  “Oh my god.” I gripped his bedspread.

  My phone vibrated. I tried to ignore it. He hooked a finger in the lace at my hips and began to pull. My phone kept vibrating. Not just a text, someone was calling me. No one ever did that…except Hannah. And only when she was in trouble.

  “Shit.” I sat up.

  “Whoa.” His fingers slipped away from my panties.

  “My phone.” I snatched my bag from the corner of the bed and dug through it till I found my phone. She’d already sent a few texts of “911.” “Shiiiitt.” My fire doused, I scooted to the edge of the bed and stabbed the call button. “Come on, come on.”

  “Scarlet?” Willis sat next to me and rubbed my back as I yanked the neckline of my dress back into place.

  “She’s been texting me. And she called so—”

  “Hey.”

  I’d never been so relieved to hear Hannah’s voice. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Pauly.” Her voice tremored. “He told me I have to work for him.”

  “No.” I stood and hurried to the front door.

  “Scarlet…” Willis called and followed me, but I wasn’t listening to him. All I could hear was the panic in Hannah’s voice.

  “I’m coming. Right now. Stay in the apartment. Don’t open the door unless it’s for me.”

  A sob rocketed through the speaker. “I’m getting dressed. He’s outside. I have to go.”

  “No!” I stabbed my feet into my shoes and rushed into the hallway.

  Willis cut past me and hit the down button on the elevator for me.

  “You stay right where you are, Hannah. Don’t move. I told Pauly I would work this out. He needs to be patient.”

  “I’m the one who screwed up, so I should be the one to—”

  I hurried onto the elevator once it opened. “I don’t care who screwed up! We are in this together. I’m coming home. I’ll talk to him.”

  The elevator doors closed and we descended, though I barely noticed Willis in the carriage with me.

  “If I could just…cards…maybe…” Hannah’s voice died as I lost the signal.

  “Hannah? Dammit!” I shoved my phone into my bag.

  “Scarlet, what’s wrong?”

  “I can’t talk about it.” I crossed my arms over my chest and willed the elevator to speed the hell up.

  “It sounds like you’re in some kind of trouble.” He stepped closer and put his hands on my shoulders. “What can I do?”

  The elevator doors opened, and I dashed out.

  Willis’s voice thundered around me. “Gene, get her a cab.”

  “Yes, sir.” Gene stepped out the front door, his hand already held high.

  “I’m coming with you.” Willis stayed by my side.

  I whirled. “No.”

  “I want to help.” His earnest blue eyes reminded me why I should get far away from him. He was a sweet, sexy nerd who deserved better than a con artist, especially since I was working a long con on him.

  “You can’t. This is between me and my sister.”

  “And some guy named Pauly.” He dogged my heels as I darted out the front door.

  “Yes.”

  “Just let me come with you.” He grabbed my elbow as a cab pulled up to the curb.

  I shook him off. “You’re sweet, Sparky. But you’re out of your depth here.” I couldn’t look him in the eye, so I dropped my gaze to the sidewalk. “And you aren’t wearing shoes.”

  “I can get some.” He tilted my chin up. “Let me help you.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can.” He lowered his eyebrows, his stubbornness seeking to overcome my own. But I couldn’t let him get any closer than he already was. It would only end in more trouble for him.

  “No.” I stepped back and ducked into the waiting cab. “See you next weekend.” Closing the door, I gave the cabbie my address and prayed I wouldn’t arrive too late.

  11

  Willis

  I plopped down in front of my laptop and dropped my head into my hands. She’d been right there, on my bed, ready to go. The rage I’d felt for her ringing phone resurfaced, and I gave my own cell a dirty look.

  But that wasn’t even the worst part. No, the worst part was when she refused to let me help. She didn’t even confide in me what the issue was. Obviously, it had something to do with her sister and Pauly. His name alone sounded shady enough. What could they possibly be mixed up in?

  I sat back and thought about jerking out my aggressions. The thought of her spread and ready for me would be more than enough of a mental image to send my ship sailing time and again. But I was too bothered by her refusing my help. And she was in trouble. I rose and paced around my apartment, trying to figure out what the hell I was feeling besides straight-up worry.

  An idea skittered across my mind—I could go to her apartment building and…and… What? Hold up a boombox outside and hope she looks out her window? Besides, I didn’t know where she lived. Not really. Damnit. I had
no way to get to her.

  Despite the fact that I shouldn’t want her, I couldn’t help myself. I was more than willing to risk the professional relationship to get to know her. Which was dumb. This must have been my dick thinking. That had to be it. Maybe she was right, and I needed to back off. Try the “just business” routine again. See if I could stand it for more than thirty seconds this time.

  Again, I sat in front of my computer and fidgeted in my comfy chair until I was in “the spot.” Work. I needed to keep my eye on the prize and remember that I was working toward a New York Times bestseller, a blog that brought in major advertising dollars, and future book advances with lots of digits.

  I rolled my shoulders and clicked over to my blog. People had posted photos of Scarlet from the previous night, and she looked fantastic. A really nice photo of her had garnered over five-hundred comments. It was from our entrance into the theater. She smiled, her familiar mischief shining in her eyes. I stood at her side, a strained smile on my face while I blinked at just the right moment. Great.

  The commentary was entirely complimentary toward Scarlet, and I ignored the light-hearted jokes at my expense. At least they said the “mystery man” was handsome despite the closed eyes and odd expression.

  I needed to respond, to thank them for the encouraging words and then get down to business.

  It occurred to me that this would be the first time I fulfilled the charade by pretending to be the living, breathing Scarlet. Was it lying? Scarlet’s words came back to me, accusing me of running game right along with her. Maybe it was, but I was too deep in it to go back now. I typed a quick thank you to everyone for the compliments and sent it. Then I flicked over to my forum of questions that was bursting with over one-hundred since I’d logged in the previous day. The ladies were chatty, and it was my job to respond. Work—I needed to get to work and stop thinking about Scarlet’s personal trouble. My fingers hesitated over the keys as my thoughts flitted back to the worried notes of her voice as she ran out on me this morning.

  “Ugh.” I leaned back and stabbed my fingers through my hair. She was driving me crazy. I couldn’t even concentrate on the words on the screen. The need to go to her made my palms itch. But there was no way I could. She was just as much a mystery to me then as she was the very first day we met.

  I grabbed my phone and tried to think of someone to call for help. My lock screen wallpaper—a movie poster from Aliens Versus Vampires VI—appeared, and an idea hit me right in the mouth. I unlocked the phone and clicked on my messages. The top one, sent last night, was from Jason.

  Jason: Hey, man. Football in the fall. Roll Tide.

  I nutted up and typed out a message.

  Willis: Sorry to be asking this, especially first thing in the morning, but could you do me a favor?

  I hit send and waited, my knee bouncing against the bottom side of my desk as more notifications pinged to tell me my blog was hopping. My online presence was my life, but Scarlet had elbowed her way past it and plopped down right in front of me with a wily smile. There was no getting past her. I couldn’t function until I knew she was okay. When the three dots on my phone started to bounce, I hissed out “yes.”

  Jason: Just got back from the gym. What you got in mind?

  Of course he just got back from the gym. I typed out my response.

  Willis: You know Linda’s assistant? I think her name’s Beverly. Could you…

  I paused and tried to figure out how to word the rest.

  Could you call her up? She really likes you, and I need some information from her. About Scarlet. And I was thinking that maybe, you know, you could…

  I hit send and hoped Jason would fill in the blanks. Holding my breath, I watched the dots.

  Jason: That’s easy man. I thought you were going to ask for something serious. What do you need to know?

  I sagged with relief.

  Willis: Just her address.

  I wanted her name—her real name—but that would be pushing too far. Right? My thumbs hovered over the keyboard, desperate to spell out the request for her real name. It would be so easy to get it from Beverly. A bead of sweat popped on my brow as I debated with myself. In the end, I let it go. For now. She’d give it to me when she was ready, when she trusted me. Of course, stealing her address from Linda’s files wouldn’t help me much on the trust front. But it’s not like I was the one who had a penchant for pilfering.

  Jason: I’ll handle it. Give me a few.

  Willis: Thank you so much.

  I hurried into my bedroom and dressed in a Thundercats t-shirt and jeans. Snatching my glasses off my dresser, I slid them on and walked into the living room. After checking my phone for the third time in five minutes, I started pacing my familiar path back and forth between my leather sofa and my desk.

  “Come on.” Every second that ticked away spoke of more trouble for Scarlet. What if this Pauly was violent? I stared down at my knuckles. I’d never been much of a fighter, but I knew I’d have no problem hurting anyone who laid a hand on Scarlet. It was as if my subconscious had tapped into some secret reserve of testosterone as soon as I met her. All of a sudden, fighting and fucking were the orders of the day. I’d gone native like Captain Kirk in that acid trip episode of Star Trek with the obelisk (if you don’t speak nerd, just move along). Adjusting my glasses, I kept pacing. Minutes ticked by as I stole glances at my phone. Finally, it pinged. I snatched it off my desk.

  Jason: I’m supposed to wine, dine, and sixty-nine Beverly this evening. No hardship. She’s not bad looking. In exchange for whoring myself out, I got this: 133 Woodlawn Ave, Jersey City.

  Willis: I owe you. Thanks.

  I was already out the door and hurtling down the stairs, not taking a chance on waiting for the elevator. Bursting into the lobby, I called to Gene, “Cab, quick.”

  “Yes, sir.” He disappeared out the door ahead of me.

  My shoes skidded across the marble floor as I pushed through the door and into the morning sun. Gene had already hailed a cab and was opening the door for me.

  “Thanks.” I made a mental note to give him a ridiculous tip upon my return.

  The cab smelled like the driver had been hotboxing a blunt, but I didn’t care. Maybe it would calm me down since all the chill I possessed seemed to have vanished the moment Scarlet had slipped through my fingers. I gave him her address and settled in for the ride over the river. My phone buzzed in my pocket.

  Jason: You need me riding shotgun?

  Willis: I think I’ve got this. Thanks though.

  Jason: Fair enough. I’ve still got two frisky phillies in my bed from last night. Time for round four.

  “Round four?” I gawked at my phone and tried to come up with a nonchalant reply.

  Willis: Have a good time.

  Was that nonchalant or did I sound like a mom sending her kid off to prom? Probably the latter. I stowed my phone and willed the cab to move faster. Scarlet was in trouble, and I was going to help her get out of it whether she liked it or not.

  12

  Scarlet

  “Hannah?” I called as I rushed into our apartment. Tossing my bag on the kitchen counter, I raced to her room.

  She sat on her bed and slipped on a pair of black pumps. “I have to.” Dressed in a black skirt and a low-cut top, she wore her dealer’s outfit, though now it hung more loosely on her frame.

  “No.” I closed her bedroom door and plastered myself against it. “You don’t.”

  “If I can count cards in Pauly’s gaming room and rig the winnings for one of his own players, I can make up for what I lost. What we owe.” Her tired, sunken eyes met mine.

  I shook my head. “And what if it goes wrong again and you get in even deeper with him or worse, someone else? Huh? What then?”

  “I can count cards.” She stood, though the heels made her wobble.

  “I know you can. That doesn’t mean you should.”

  “This time Pauly will be in on it. It’ll be easier.”

&nb
sp; “No.” There was no way I was letting her get mixed up with the wrong people again. Guilt flowed over me like a cold rain. A year ago, I’d been so fixated on trying to go legit with a job and a future in the city that I’d let Hannah fall through the cracks. She’d been such a bright spot in my life, but I’d let predators dull her shine.

  When her boyfriend at the time found out she could count cards, he’d taken her to various gambling dens all over the city. With her help, he’d made a killing. But that all ended when Pauly caught on during a game. When Hannah got busted, the boyfriend disappeared, and she came to me for help. I had no other option. I dropped my budding life in Manhattan and moved to Jersey City to help her out of the mess.

  I refused to let a sleazy man like Pauly take any more from her. Not again. “We’re going to beat this, and then you’re going to school.”

  She sighed, the sound rattling in her lungs. “It’s too late for me.”

  “Don’t say that!” I walked to her and folded her in my arms. “You’re young. The whole world is out there for you. I’m going to give it to you. And I’ll handle Pauly.”

  “I don’t know if you can. He’s cruel.” Her sad voice tore at me.

  “We’ll win this, even the score, and never look back.” I squeezed her. “You don’t have to count cards for assholes ever again. But I do expect you to start community college in the fall, then transfer to MIT.”

  She snorted.

  “No pressure or anything.” I released her and wiped the tears from her pale cheeks. “Have faith in me to solve this.” I glanced to her pile of Rubik’s Cubes. “You read numbers. I read people.”

  “I know.” She kicked her shoes off. “I wish it was the other way around.”

  “You know what Ma always said.”

  She nodded. “We all have our gifts and our curses.”