Ruin Me: Vegas Knights Read online

  Ruin Me

  Vegas Knights

  Bella Love-Wins

  Shiloh Walker

  Bella Love-Wins Books

  Contents

  COPYRIGHT

  Blurb and Author’s Notes

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  About Bella Love-Wins

  About Shiloh Walker

  1. Angel

  2. Mac

  3. Angel

  4. Mac

  5. Angel

  6. Mac

  7. Angel

  8. Angel

  9. Mac

  10. Angel

  11. Angel

  12. Mac

  13. Angel

  14. Mac

  15. Angel

  16. Mac

  17. Angel

  18. Angel

  19. Mac

  20. Angel

  21. Mac

  22. Angel

  23. Mac

  24. Angel

  25. Mac

  26. Mac

  27. Angel

  28. Mac

  29. Angel

  30. Mac

  31. Angel

  32. Angel

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  COPYRIGHT

  Ruin Me

  (Vegas Knights)

  Copyright (c) 2017

  Bella Love-Wins & Shiloh Walker

  Written by Bella Love-Wins and Shiloh Walker

  All Rights Reserved.

  Blurb and Author’s Notes

  Synopsis of Ruin Me

  Angel

  I should know to keep my guard up when this dark, damaged stranger saves me.

  But I don't.

  His tortured soul draws me in for one hot, sinful Vegas night.

  Then I learn what he is.

  An irresistible liar.

  I should back off, but it's already too late.

  I've fallen for the one man who'll ruin me.

  Author's Notes

  Ruin Me is a full length (64,000 words) steamy standalone romance with no cheating, no cliffhanger, and a happy ever after ending. Content Warning: Contains dark story elements that may be disturbing to some readers. Intended for 18+ readers.

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  About Bella Love-Wins

  Bella is a Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestselling Author who loves writing steamy, high-action romance stories about bad boys, athletes, firefighters, billionaires, and alpha males who know what they want and aren't afraid of laying claim to the women who catch their interest.

  She enjoys a happy ever after ending, as well as reading, hiking, the countryside, and traveling to destinations unspoiled by commercial tourism, like Las Vegas. :)

  Like so many characters in her novels, Bella gets all hot and bothered for action, romance and unexpected love connections that take her breath away. For the next while, you'll find her in Toronto, plotting and writing about her latest stories on her MacBook.

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  About Shiloh Walker

  Shiloh Walker has been writing since she was a kid. She fell in love with vampires with the book Bunnicula and has worked her way up to the more…ah…serious works of fiction. Once upon a time she worked as a nurse, but now she writes full time and lives with her family in the Midwest. She writes romantic suspense and contemporary romance, and urban fantasy under her pen name, J.C. Daniels. You can find her at Twitter or Facebook. Read more about her work at her website. Sign up for her newsletter and have a chance to win a monthly giveaway.

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  1

  Angel

  “Did I hear you say your name was Angel?”

  The low voice, full of innuendo and sensual warmth, came from my left. I sighed, turning my head to meet the pale blue eyes behind a pair of hipster-cool frames.

  The guy was good-looking.

  He was also not my type. I needed no more proof than the way he was smiling about my name.

  My best friend Tamika leaned in, nudging me, and I recognized the signal. She’d already been on me for shooting down every guy I met. I’d told her I was fed up with the lines and the lame come-ons and the idiots who thought that just because they took off their wedding ring, it meant I couldn’t see the strip of skin where it usually rested.

  But…maybe she was right.

  Maybe I was too critical.

  And hey, we were in Vegas, right?

  My one last wild vacation. I’d planned to throw it all to the wind before I headed down to Mexico to work at an inner-city school
for the next two years. It was considered a family tradition, being all socially conscious, although my parents had freaked out when they heard I was going to teach in Mexico.

  We didn’t do things like that.

  The Halliwell family volunteered at hospitals, and they led literacy initiatives, and sometimes, on rare occasion, they might volunteer at a homeless shelter or a home for battered women.

  But physically going to an inner city in another country?

  That was confusing for my parents. I think it also terrified them. I was their only child, and they’d redefined overprotective.

  I’d been very clear in my determination to continue as planned.

  I was looking forward to getting out from under the near-oppressive blanket of their love and affection. Granted, it was a love and affection governed by very specific rules of behavior, but Phillip and Evangeline Halliwell did love me.

  They also didn’t understand me.

  It was going to be fantastic getting away from those confused eyes and puzzled looks for a while.

  It was going to be stellar to get away from arranged dates and not-so-subtle oh, have you met so-and-so’s son…at every dinner party or charity function that we attended.

  Months of freedom stretched out in front of me.

  And before I kicked it off, I planned this week of partying, shows and gambling here in the bright neon lights of Las Vegas.

  The man who’d approached me was still waiting for an answer. I managed a casual smile. “Yes. It’s Angel.”

  “It suits you…because you really do look like one.” He smiled, showing off perfectly straight white teeth.

  An orthodontist’s dream smile. I should know. I had one myself—or I’d had one, up until an impromptu game of football with some friends in college had sent me tumbling to the ground. A rock had claimed one small chip from my right front tooth, and once the swelling had gone down from my mouth, I’d decided I liked it.

  My smile no longer looked like an ad for a toothpaste commercial.

  Again, my parents had been confused.

  “Just what do angels look like?” I asked, sipping from the watered-down cocktail I’d been nursing for the past hour.

  Nonplussed, he gave me a puzzled look. Apparently deciding he’d heard me wrong in the loud bar, he leaned in closer. “Why don’t you let me buy you another drink?”

  “You know what…I don’t think so. Have a good night.” I swiveled on the stool back to Tamika. She was talking to a guy with a fantastic smile—bet he wasn’t making stupid jokes about her name.

  “Hey, come on, honey…”

  A heavy hand fell onto my shoulder.

  The guy hadn’t left.

  Shrugging it off, I met his gaze and said, “I told you no. I’m not interested.”

  He opened his mouth, then closed it. After a second, he curled his lip and said, “I take it back. You don’t look like an angel. You look like a fuckin’ bitch.”

  He turned to go and ended up crashing into a broad, massive wall of muscle.

  “Hey, man, why don’t you…oh. Hey. My bad.”

  Leaning against the bar, I watched as Mr. Suave patted the big guy’s arm and said, “That was all me. No harm, no foul.”

  The big guy, wearing a pair of dark sunglasses here in the club, studied him for a long moment before shifting his attention up. And even though I couldn’t see his eyes, I had no doubt he was looking at me. The condescending smirk that twisted his lips tugged a smile out of me.

  Somehow, I knew that smirk wasn’t directed at me.

  “Sure, kid,” the man said, his voice deep, matching his size. “No harm, no foul. Why don’t you just head on out of here now?”

  He spoke with a rich, rolling accent. Definitely with French undertones. I was sure he was Cajun because it made me think of sultry, dark bayous, honeysuckle and magnolia blossoms. Everything I’d seen, heard, smelled, touched, and tasted during my trip to New Orleans for Mardi Gras one year. It was the kind of voice a woman would just love to hear whispering in her ear at night. At least, this woman would.

  Mr. Suave gave a jerky nod, then disappeared into the crowd.

  And then the big guy moved up and straddled the stool two seats down from me. He shot me a look. “Was he bothering you?” he asked politely.

  “Nothing I’m not used to,” I said honestly.

  A frown twisted his lips. He had an absolutely beautiful mouth. “That’s pretty shitty. Shouldn’t have to get used to it.”

  “You’d be amazed at what a person can get used to.” I swirled my straw around in my glass, wondering if this was the ideal time to ask if I could buy him a drink.

  His eyes slid to mine.

  I couldn’t make out anything behind those mirrored lenses, but I knew, as sure as I was sitting there, he was studying me. One corner of that sexy mouth quirked up in a smile, and he shook his head. “No. I wouldn’t.”

  It caught me off guard. I wondered if maybe he was reading my mind—no, I wouldn’t buy him a drink…?

  “Excuse me?”

  He shrugged, and the movement highlighted something that didn’t need highlighting, heavy muscles under the close-fitting, long-sleeve t-shirt he wore. “I wouldn’t be surprised by what a person can get used to…Angel.”

  The bartender approached, but before I could ask if I could maybe buy him a drink, she put one down in front of him. They nodded at each other, a gesture of old familiarity, then she glanced at me, a bright, customer-pleasing smile on her face. “Need a refill?”

  “Ah…yes. Please.”

  She turned away without asking what I’d been drinking, a sure sign of a good bartender, and I looked back at the big guy.

  He was pondering his drink.

  “Why is it you wouldn’t be surprised?” I asked him.

  He didn’t even look my way this time. “Because I’ve had to get used to more shit in my life than most decent folk can probably fathom.”

  He nodded to me, one big hand closed around his drink. “Enjoy your night, Miss Angel.”

  The words were delivered in a slow, lazy drawl that stroked across my skin, up, down, all around, as if he’d actually touched me.

  He turned away while I was still processing my seriously crazed reaction to him and I huffed out a sigh. I could either stay here or look desperate and go after him.

  Looking desperate didn’t seem all that bad, then.

  But a man like that wasn’t going to react well to being chased.

  Blowing out a breath, I turned back to my drink.

  At least I had some serious fantasy material to take to Mexico with me. That was good, right?

  “Well…if it isn’t Angel.”

  Key card in hand, I paused at the sound of the voice behind me and turned slowly.

  Tamika, lucky bitch, had hooked up.

  I was on my own now, walking back to my hotel room at Casino Torrid. I’d been to Las Vegas any number of times and had hiked around the city alone at all hours—practically—without issue. They said New York was the city that never sleeps, but I had to wonder if whoever coined that line had ever been to Las Vegas. Hard to be too concerned when there were still people out in droves even as late as three or four a.m.

  It was only a little after midnight when I’d decided I was at my limit for alcoholic drinks, and was tired of walking around in the stilettos I’d decided to wear with this dress.

  I should’ve been more aware of my surroundings when I left the main floor of the casino to head up to the escalator. The suite I shared with Tamika was on the concierge level. I could take the express elevator if I wanted to circle around and head to the front of the hotel. I didn’t want to circle around, so I ended up taking the escalator.

  I was walking down the hall to the next elevator bank when he spoke from behind me. This section of the hotel, I’d found, was almost always quiet this time of night. Two of the hotel’s three live shows were located on this floor, and once the shows were over, it was practically a ghost to
wn.

  Which was great to avoid crowds.

  Not so much when it came to needing help.

  When I turned to see Mr. Suave from earlier, it was just him and me.

  Not something that pleased me a lot, I had to say.

  “You lost, pretty Angel?”

  “Please,” I said as I faced him. “Why don’t you take your canned come-on lines and try them on somebody who hasn’t heard them a thousand times?” Then, with a snap of my fingers, I gave a small laugh. “That won’t work, will it? Men aren’t allowed to date sixth graders, are they?”

  His brows came together over his eyes as he edged closer. “Why do rich bitches like you always got to act so high and mighty around a guy when all he’s doing is being friendly?”

  “High and mighty?” I shook my head. “It’s called not interested.”