Chapter 3

THREE

VORTEX

“ How’s my favorite brother doing?” the text reads

I sigh. Connie only pulls out the compliments when she wants something. It’s been at least a week since she last asked for money, so it doesn’t surprise me that she’s gearing up to ask for more. “ What do you need?”

“Nothing! LOL” comes the reply.

I shake my head like she’s there to see it. “How much?”

I should tell her no. She’s just going to spend it on some new get-rich scheme, all the while telling me it’s her big break to have her own fancy lifestyle. No matter how many times I try to tell her I can get her a job at the Roi de Pique, she insists she can make her own way.

“Just 5!”

Great. She means either five hundred or five thousand, depending, and I’m willing to bet she’s after the five grand.

Before I can answer her, Caleb comes out of the bedroom, dressed in a t-shirt and track pants instead of the suit he’d been wearing before. I’d say he’s dressed to head to the gym, but I know he’s not going anywhere after that rigorous—and loud—fuck.

I slide my phone into my pocket. “Got everything you requested, boss,” I tell him, sitting up straighter in my chair at the dining room table.

I’ve set out the trays of food the restaurant staff had brought, which is a fucking feast for more than three people can reasonably eat in a day or even two. I’d known he wanted a variety for the kid, though. He hadn’t needed to tell me that much.

There are benefits to knowing someone for years.

“Thank you,” Caleb says, coming over to sit at his usual chair. He starts serving himself some of the food but stops when his cat jumps onto the table.

She meows at him and tries to sniff his plate.

“No, Miss K,” Caleb says, picking her up and putting her back down on the floor. “You know you can’t have human food.”

“You shouldn’t let her on the table, boss,” I say, wrinkling my nose as I think about just where those paws have been. “What if she steps in the food?”

“I don’t let her on the table,” Caleb points out. “She jumps on the table, then I put her on the floor, and then she?—”

Miss K starts to jump onto the table again, but this time Caleb gets his arm out in time to block her from landing properly. She awkwardly falls to the floor and stares at Caleb, as if daring him to say anything about the ungraceful landing.

I snort, shaking my head. I like cats well enough, but not near my food.

I’m too hungry to focus on it for long, though. The drive back to Calamity City had been long, and I’d been waiting for him to finish his fuckfest before I served myself.

A fuckfest I could’ve watched, apparently, though I’m not sure how I feel about that particular offer. My boss and I might be friends, but I don’t know that we’re that close.

“Your boy going to eat?” I ask as casually as I can manage.

I want to get another look at the pathetic hitchhiker who’d caught my boss’s attention—and I want to find out what’s going on with the strange order to keep him inside the penthouse.

My phone pings with another message, but I don’t pull it out of my pocket. It’ll just be Connie trying to wheedle her way into the money she knows I’m going to give her eventually anyway because I don’t know how to say no to my little sister.

“I’m sure he is.” Caleb stares at the bedroom door as he eats. “He probably hasn’t had a good meal in months, and if you’d seen the scars on him…” He shakes his head. “Makes what Don Alfonso did to Cherry look like child’s play. That boy’s been tortured.”

Shit. Everyone who’s seen Don Alfonso’s favorite mistress since he’d caught wind of her cheating on him knows just how bad she looked. The idea that Seven looks worse…

“You didn’t know that he’d been badly abused when you picked him up,” I say slowly. Had he seen them before or after he’d fucked the kid?

Well. Not kid . I’m willing to bet he’s legal, at least, though he’d probably get carded trying to walk into the doors of Roi de Pique by himself.

“A guy hitchhiking out in the desert, by himself?” Caleb scoffs. “That’s either somebody stupid, or desperate. And those eyes… yeah, he was desperate.”

I hum, then shove a bite of food in my mouth. Chewing slowly, I watch the door to the bedroom, waiting to get a chance to see the boy again for myself. “What’re you gonna do with him?” I ask.

“Give him a job,” Caleb says.

I stare at him, trying to figure out if he means a job at the casino or sex work, when the bedroom door quietly opens.

Seven comes out, wearing just a bathrobe and looking pissed off. “Where are my clothes?”

“In the laundry.” Caleb looks at me. “Did you have somebody send up clothes in his size like I asked?”

“Yep, they’re in the living room,” I report. “All touristy crap, but it’ll fit.” I realize what I’ve said to my fucking boss—who owns the hotel and casino that profits on that touristy crap —and wince. Friendly or not, respect is due, especially when someone else is in the room. “I, ah…” I run a hand through my short hair before I think about it, mussing up where I’d carefully styled it earlier today.

Gotta be sharp at work, after all. When I’m not sticking my foot in my mouth.

Seven finds the bag with the clothes and pulls out a t-shirt. It has the Roi de Pique logo and a triple-seven design on it.

“Funny,” Seven mutters.

“I thought it was,” I say, grinning even though I know the amusement doesn’t quite reach my eyes. I’m not some softhearted loser, but even I have a heart, and it’s clear the boy is shaky.

I wonder what actually happened in that bedroom.

Seven makes a face at me and leaves the room.

Once he’s gone, I glance at Caleb.

“I forgot we sold that design,” Caleb says, smirking lightly. “Anyway. I wasn’t kidding about keeping him here. He’s not to leave the premises of the hotel or casino. Assign somebody to watch him, warn all the security staff.” He reaches out to pet Miss K, who has decided to sit quietly on the chair next to him. “We’ll probably need to get a GPS tracker inside him at some point.”

I sure picked a shitty day to fill in for Caleb’s usual driver.

“With all due respect, boss… Why?” His eyes narrow, and I hurry to add, “I mean, it’s great of you and all, but that’s a lot for some kid.”

“I like him,” Caleb says, his tone unreadable. “I want to keep him. That should be enough.”

My gut says there’s more to it, but I know Caleb well enough to know he’s said all he intends to say. If Seven wasn’t there, I might have pushed, but it’s not really my place.

Seven reappears, wearing the clothes from the gift shop. He looks like one of the many tourists who have forgotten to bring enough clothes or whose luggage got lost during transit—except he’s a lot prettier than most of them. His hair has been pulled back into a ponytail, showing off the slender nape of his neck, and his lips are turned down in an adorable pout.

I can understand why Caleb wants him, even if I’m not sure about his methods.

“Thanks for the shower and the sex,” Seven says. “I’ll grab Nacho and the rest of my stuff and be going.”

“Without eating first?” Caleb asks, pointing to the food.

Seven’s gaze flits to the table, and while his stomach doesn’t audibly growl, I can imagine it’s a near thing. There’s no telling how long he’d been hiking along the highway, and he’s on the too-thin side as it is.

“I don’t want to impose,” Seven hedges, but he’s already halfway to the table.

Since Miss K is sitting on the chair next to Caleb, the only one available for Seven is the one next to me. Seven narrows his eyes at me before sitting down and serving himself.

“I had Vortex bathe Nacho,” Caleb says.

“He was not amused,” I offer with a chortle in between bites of my own food. “But other than howling up a storm, he wasn’t that bad. Looks like a drowned rat now, though.”

Seven takes a bite of a sandwich before looking me up and down, something that makes my cheeks flush strangely hot. “Yeah?” he asks, a smile slowly spreading across his lips. “Let me see your hands.”

I blink, surprised at the request, but I hold out my hands to him.

He grabs them with surprisingly warm fingers, and I barely even breathe as he examines them.

“Little tiny needle marks from baby kitten claws… or teeth,” Seven observes.

I want to pull my hands away, but I’m not going to let the kid who’s not even half my size rattle me. “Nah. He just grabbed onto me a little when the water started.”

Caleb clears his throat, and Seven startles and lets go of me.

“The bath should’ve helped with fleas, butI sent somebody out for flea treatments. We’ll keep him isolated until we’re sure he’s clean. Just a few days. That’ll give the cats time to get used to each other too before we introduce them.” Caleb reaches out to pet Miss K again, smiling down at her. “Are you excited for a little kitty friend, Miss K?”

“A few days,” Seven repeats. He isn’t smiling now. “Mr. Spade, sir, I know you’re just being generous and all, but…”

“I’m being manipulative, not generous,” Caleb interrupts him. He smirks at Seven. “I did tell you that you weren’t leaving, didn’t I? Surely you didn’t think I’d changed my mind already.”

Seven fiddles with the crust of the sandwich, pinching the bread and pulling it away from the rest. He drops the crust onto his plate. “I mean… You could have.” He looks squarely at Caleb. “You’ve seen I’m damaged property, now.”

If only I could tell the boy that that’s only going to make Caleb lean in harder. Fuck, he’d freak if he knew to what extent Caleb will go to keep him here—and that’s because he’s damaged, not in spite of it.

“I’ve never held with the idea that we should throw away anything slightly used. I keep my cars until they’re falling apart, and then I have them repaired again. Vortex can tell you that.” Caleb leans forward. “The rampant, wasteful consumerism is what’s wrong with our society.”

Seven glares at Caleb. “Says the guy who runs a fucking casino.”

Caleb chuckles. “Yes, I do appreciate the irony. But we do what we can to limit waste. Linens and towels only get washed between guests, we serve all of our food and drink in reusable dishes, and the gift shop goods are made with eco-friendly materials.” He smiles brightly. “I’m a conscientious casino owner.”

“How noble of you,” Seven remarks. He’s quiet as he eats more of his sandwich, then he adds, “I’m going to waste every crust you give me on sandwiches, though.”

“What are you, five?” I interrupt to ask.

Seven smirks at me, though if he’s actually amused, I can’t tell. “Vortex can always eat it for me.”

“If you don’t eat it, it’s going into the compost,” Caleb says before I can think up a retort.

Seven shrugs. “Okay.” He finishes eating, ignoring the bounty of food on the table in favor of that one small sandwich. “I want to see Nacho.”

Caleb nods. “Vortex, you can take Seven to his room. I need to make a few phone calls anyway.” He scoots his chair away from the table, and Miss K immediately jumps onto his lap. He stares down at her, shakes his head, and moves her to the floor. “This shouldn’t take too long.”

Of course, when Caleb says something isn’t going to take too long, it ends up lasting an hour or two because he has a hard time delegating.

“All right, boss.” I stand up and glance at the table. “Uh, are we okay to leave all this out? The cat won’t try to eat this while I get Seven settled?”

Putting food away isn’t usually in my job description, but it’s not like Caleb is going to do it, and I’m not going to ask Seven to.

“She won’t. She never touches human food unless there’s a human actively around to make it look appealing.” Caleb gets his phone and starts tapping, walking off toward his office.

Seven gets up, too, and he follows me in the direction of the bedroom Nacho is trapped in. The cat’s little paws are still darting under the doorframe, and he starts to meow as we get closer. Seven breaks away from me to go ahead, opening the door and scooping the still-damp Nacho up into his hands.

“I told you he was fine,” I say gruffly, shutting the door behind us.

Seven scoffs at me. “You tried to drown him.”

I scowl. “I gave him a bath.”

“That’s not how he remembers it,” Seven says, and the words are so deadpan that it takes me a moment to realize he’s joking.

“What, the cat’s talking to you now?” I ask, hanging back as Seven starts to look around the room.

“Where’s my bag?” Seven asks, ignoring my question.

I shrug. “No idea. Wherever Caleb left it, I guess. You’ll have to ask him.”

“If you help me find it, there’s cash in it for you,” Seven tells me.

I stop and stare at him hard, trying to figure out if he’s actually trying to bribe me—if he actually thinks he can outbid whatever Caleb Spade could offer me. “Uh, no. I have money, thanks.”

Seven sidles up to me, getting into my personal space. He licks his lips suggestively. “I can give you other things, too.”

Now I frown. “You’d blow me just so I help you find your bag?”

“Well, that would be part of the deal,” he says. Nacho climbs up his arm, making Seven wince, then settles onto his shoulder like a parrot. With his other hand, he touches my arm. “All I need you to do is look the other way while I… you know. I’ll just be a memory, and everything will be fine.”

“Even if I wanted to just let you walk out of here—and I don’t,” I add when he starts to open his mouth, “you’d have to do more than get past me. He has other men out there, remember? No one’s letting you out of this penthouse without Mr. Spade’s express permission.”

Seven pouts at me, which would probably be more alluring if he didn’t have a kitten meowing on his shoulder. “I already paid him back for the ride. I’m not the type to stick around.”

“You’ll get used to it,” I say, shrugging. “Boss says he wants you here. I like my job.”

“Come on,” Seven whines. “If you don’t want a blowjob, just help me out because you’re a good guy. Or because you don’t want a second cat around. Either way, I’m complicating things, and you don’t need complications in your job, right?”

A good guy? That ship sailed years ago, and these days I’d settle for being a not-so-terrible guy.

“I’d have bigger complications if I let you and the runt there run off,” I say gruffly. “You have to know what kind of man you’re dealing with.”

“The kind of man who doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” Seven says, and I grimace at the bitterness in his voice. “Yeah. I know the type. But I thought maybe someone around him would have a conscience.”

A conscience.

That’s laughable.

“Save it for them, then,” I suggest. “Sorry, kid.” And I am. I don’t like the idea of trapping someone against their will, especially when I know Caleb Spade isn’t a good guy either.

But Caleb is better than someone like Don Alfonso, at least, and predators can smell prey. They would know in a heartbeat that Seven is vulnerable, and they’d do far, far worse than Caleb would.

“Might as well settle in,” I tell him, stepping out of his reach. “Enjoy your quiet time.”

He probably won’t get much of it.

“Thanks,” Seven mutters, “for absolutely nothing.”

I shrug and head to the bedroom door. “You’re welcome.”