Chapter 1

Three Years Later

Climbing out of the parking garage elevator, I toss my crossbody bag over my neck. It's Friday night, and I got called into work early. That's never a great sign.

I didn't even stop for coffee. That's how panic-stricken Jimmy sounded on the phone. Unlike a lot of the omegas, I don't live on-site here at the High Roller.

I prefer it that way. Being more accessible to my bosses isn't my take on a bright idea. Also, it's hard to make meaningful connections when your entire life is a fabrication. If the remaining Andrettis ever caught up to me, I could put a lot of people at risk. The club security wouldn't be able to stop them, and people could die.

I learned my lesson last time.

My heart pangs thinking about Eddie and Charles. They died because of me. It's hard to think about my parents too, but Eddie and Charles are a different kind of hurt. I was delusional when I thought running would free me up to have a family one day. I should have realized the Andrettis would never stop looking for their brother's murderer.

I shake away those thoughts and nod at the bouncer working the entrance.

The overhead lights lining the front of the club glint against his bald head as he nods.

He pops open the door, and I slide by.

"Thanks."

"Have a good night," he growls.

Sometimes I feel like a genuinely awful person. We've worked together for too long for me to ask his name now. So, I give a playful smile. "You too."

The seedy underbelly of Sin City took me when I was at my lowest. A couple years later, and I've finally built a solid life for myself.

The fluffy bottom of my skirt flares out as I weave through the people standing just inside. The dance floor is packed with beautiful people, but that's not unusual.

Elena is in the crush of people, and I briefly consider stopping to see if she's okay. She's beautiful and a little skittish, but this place takes some getting used to in general. She'll definitely be able to make bank once she gets comfortable. She strides toward the bar, so I get on with my business.

I aim for Spades, which is tucked away in the back left corner of the club. To get to it, you have to go through the main casino or through the private VIP entrance in the back. The second level above the casino and Spades—the high-roller room—is lined in reflective glass to give security the ability to see down while the patrons don't realize they're being watched. Well, I'm sure some of them do, but the majority don't care.

To be bumped up to security for Spades, the employee has to put in their time.

The same is true for the dealers, servers, and bartenders. That, or come with a special skill set, like myself.

Gambling is at the heart of Vegas, but Spades appeals to a very specific set of clients.

Most of the High Roller's clientele is here for the atmosphere—or the omegas.

You don't make it into Spades unless you're betting in the top one percent of spenders. And I'm the gatekeeper who ensures all lucky streaks are actually skill or luck and not cheating.

Counting cards isn't difficult, but for most people, it does take a lot of practice to get good at. Luckily for me, my math and memory skills are considerably above average.

The thing about card counting is it isn't illegal. Well, unless you're lazy enough to use a device instead of your own brain power—but the house doesn't like losing its advantage. It's not easy to spot the ones who are actually good at counting, especially the ones humble enough to take enough losses that it's not glaringly obvious.

The other half of my job is looking for tells that the bettor is tipping cards or using some other method of cheating, like sleight of hand.

I toss my badge up in front of the scanner, and the door pops open to allow entry to the security corridor. The stairs to Spades are immediately to my right, but the entire wall on the left is one-way glass to see out over the main floor. Down a little farther on the right is the security command center for the main floor.

I take the turn into the stairwell and aim for the second floor. Once I reach the top, I make a left, and after a short walk, I'm in the Spades security center.

Unlike the main security room downstairs that's lined with a massive amount of tables covered in computer monitors, this room is cozier.

The wall to the right is one-way glass that looks over the high-roller room. The four desks are empty, except for one.

I yank my bag over my head and toss it down on my desk as I aim for the private stairwell that leads to the VIP back entrance of Spades.

Jimmy pops out the door before I can even grab the handle. "Where the hell have you been, Annika?"

It didn't take nearly as long as I expected to grow accustomed to my new name. It feels a hell of a lot more like me than Sparrow ever did. Okay, that's a lie, but I think I've almost convinced myself that I don't miss my old life…

The old me might be a different story.

I quirk an eyebrow at my boss. "I got here as soon as I could." I wasn't technically scheduled until nine. The heavy hitters tend to be the night crowd, which works perfectly for me.

"Yeah, well, we've got quite the crowd tonight, including two new guys who just bumped up their memberships to include Spades." Jimmy sighs, scratching his salt-and-pepper beard. "They want lap candy."

I roll my eyes so far they practically get stuck in my head.

I serve drinks as a convenient cover for when I'm verifying if luck is really luck. I'm all for the omegas earning money however they see fit, but I can't do my job effectively if I'm busy flirting.

The top floor of the club is private sex rooms. I have yet to partake in any of that. Not that I'm opposed to it, but no member has yet to tempt me.

Grady might have something to do with that, but I don't let myself think too much on my fuck buddy.

Grady Wells works security for the club, and with it being Friday night, he's definitely around here somewhere.

"Come on, Anni. It's packed down there. The newbies are on a streak, and I need to know if it's legit." Jimmy shrugs, forcing a smile. "I'll owe you one."

"You know I work better when I can see their faces and the table," I tell him, planting my hands on my hips. "Maybe see if any of the women downstairs might want to step in. The high rollers are always super generous, especially when they're on a streak. Let me do my job. It's more of a hindrance than a help when you try to do it for me." I pat his shoulder. "I'll take over serving them and pretend to be enamored by watching them win big. How's that for compromise?"

"Fine…" He continues cursing under his breath as he stomps past me. "Just, ya know, do your thing and save my bonus."

"Got it, Jimmy." I laugh, shoving my hair behind my ear.

It's time to get to work.

The main casino is louder than Spades because it's closer to the dance floor, but the bass is unmistakable, no matter where you are in the building. They pump high doses of oxygen into both the main casino and the high-roller room, and with music playing through the speakers, it's quite a vibe.

The night passes quickly, and Jimmy will be heartbroken to know the two newbies were simply on a lucky streak. They aren't bad to look at, but the one guy Jade is talking to reminds me a little too much of an alpha I spent my last heat with. They also have questionable manners, which is unusual for our clientele.

I sigh, glancing around as the dealers start to close everything up. I've got another heat coming in less than a month. They're never more than three months away. It always feels like I just start to recover from the last one before another starts creeping up.

I scan my badge and aim for the security room to grab my stuff. The clicking of my heels on the stairs fills the air.

I shove open the door and take three steps inside before tattooed hands land on my hips.

"Hey, baby." Grady's sultry southern accent vibrates against my ear as his long hair tickles my neck. "How was your night?"

My nostrils flare, breathing in his citrusy-beachy scent. I've never smelled a scent like his before. It's like lemons and the beach. It doesn't make any sense when I try to describe it in words, but my system lights up every time I catch a whiff of him.

"It was fine. Jimmy called me in early," I pout, spinning around to face him. My heart beats erratically as he grins down at me with a lopsided smile. "How about you?"

He chuckles, biting his lower lip.

Grady and I have had a thing since a few months after I was hired at the club.

After the incident with Marco Andretti—I only learned which brother I killed when I saw a news broadcast—I spent the next three months bouncing around the country, never staying in one place. It was exhausting and scary, and it didn't take long to recognize exactly how insulated my old life had been.

When I stopped in Texas, it was the first time I stayed put for a couple of months. It wasn't really my style, so I tried California for a month before finally settling in Las Vegas.

"Boring as fuck, but things are starting to look up," he growls.

"That they are," I agree, stretching to meet his mouth.

"Damn, you're sweet tonight." He shoves his tongue into my mouth as his fingers dance up my thigh.

He's almost ten years older than I am, but we haven't had any major issues pop up because of the age difference, except maybe that I've continually put off labeling us. He's handled it as well as I could expect, but let's be real. He was my first everything. I'm not quite ready to completely settle down, but I do care about him a lot.

It's stressful.

I come with enemies he knows nothing about. Yeah, he was in the military, and I have no doubt that he could defend himself against any normal threat, but the Andrettis aren't exactly run-of-the-mill bad guys. He's fully capable of providing security here at the club, and he always manages to make me feel safe, but the world I ran from is filled with a different level of violence.

He nips at my lower lip and pulls back, grinning so deeply his dimples pop in his thick blond stubble. "You know, you're only ever sweet and cuddly when your heat starts creeping up."

I frown so deeply that I can feel my own forehead wrinkle.

Grady pulls me closer with the hand on my ass as I stare at the wall.

I think I should have three weeks left.

His calloused fingers meet my chin, tilting my face back to his.

His deep blue eyes study me as the long hair on top of his head falls over his face. The sides are shaved close, but the top is obnoxiously long. That blond hair on top of his head always falls over his face and into his eyes, unless it's pulled up in a bun. He's one of the most gorgeous men I've ever seen. Two years later, he still manages to make my knees weak.

"It's about time we dig back through the file, don't you think?" he asks, running his tattooed fingers over my cheek.

My shoulders bounce.

I used to think being an omega would be a gift. After all, I presented later than most omegas, at a few months shy of twenty. I never reached the danger zone of not presenting, but I almost wish I had. It's complicated because I don't think I'd worry half as much if I were a beta. Then again, if I was, Grady and I might never have happened.

Without an omega, some alphas end up feral. They lean into the alpha stereotype of being hyper-aggressive and more prone to violence and outbursts. Having contact with an omega soothes their system, much like being exposed to alpha pheromones soothes an omega.

Nature designed that compatibility perfectly. Except, it's nearly impossible for one alpha to meet the sexual needs of an omega in heat.

We tried during my first heat because it started out of nowhere. It was a nightmare. I begged and begged and wore him completely out. I felt terrible, and the next time it came around, he made sure to have backup assistance available.

I know the exact file he's talking about. It has pictures and information on alphas willing to volunteer to ride out my heat.

"Remember Jordan from last time?" he asks, nuzzling his nose to mine. "You really seemed to like his cock."

I snort, smiling against his lips when he doesn't pull back. "He was so boring that I fell asleep listening to him talk about his 401(k). In the middle of a wave of heat. While we were locked together."

"Yeah, but he had a nice dick." Grady chuckles. "I remember you raving about it. We'll get him a muzzle, so he can't speak."

"You're bad." My fingers dig into his long-sleeve security T-shirt as he grins.

The aching in my chest is a reminder of part of the reason why I haven't let things progress further between us.

Omegas pick up on the feelings and emotions of those around us.

Grady and I are highly compatible on a biological level, meaning I can pick out his emotions even more than normal. He always plays it off like it doesn't bother him that we have to bring in other alphas to ride out my heat, but I know it bothers both of us.

It's got to be a real mind fuck for him, and it's completely unfair. Especially because I would murder any woman he hooked up with.

My brother was clearly right when he called me out for being more like our family than I was willing to admit.

I know I'm selfish.

I let Grady get close, even with the risks it could pose to his life if one of my family's enemies found me.

It's not just the Andrettis.

I was just so tired of being alone. But even now, it's like I can't fully let my walls down.

"How about we wrap up things here, and I meet you at your place?" he asks, brushing his lips over mine. "I've got the file in my truck."

I grunt, shaking my head. "I don't want to have to think about that yet."

"We know we can't avoid it, so we might as well make a plan before it's an emergency." He's ever the voice of reason.

It doesn't make me hate the reality of it any less.

"I'm exhausted. I think I'm going to head home and call it a night."

He immediately releases me, stepping back and giving a clipped nod. "No problem, Anni Girl."

Is it wrong that I wish he wasn't so good at respecting my wishes?

I'd like to see him tell me, too bad, but I'm climbing into your bed one way or another.

Even I can admit, I'm a pain in the ass.