House Rules Read online

  House Rules

  Rebecca Brooke

  Copyright © 2016 by Rebecca Brooke

  Cover Design by Cassy Roop of Pink Ink Designs

  Editing by Ryn Hughes of Delphi Rose

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  All rights reserved.

  DEDICATION

  To my readers, thank you for sticking with me. I couldn’t have done it without you.

  Life will test you but remember this, when you walk up a mountain you get stronger

  ~ Unknown

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Other Books

  About the Author

  CHAPTER 1

  Miller

  Sweat dripped down every muscle in rivulets. I dropped on the bed next to her, pausing when she sidled up to me, like she expected to cuddle. What had given her that impression, I had no idea.

  “That was amazing,” she purred, pressing her lips to my chest.

  Fuck, what’s her name again?

  Long, bleached blonde hair and blue eyes. Skimpy clothes and fake boobs. For the last four nights I’d brought home a different woman, but although each one scratched an itch, none of them were satisfying enough to keep in my bed any longer than necessary.

  My breathing evened out and I sat up on the side of the bed, my back to . . .

  Shelia.

  At least I thought it was Shelia. Not that I really gave a shit. It wasn’t like we’d ever cross paths again.

  Small hands wrapped around my waist. “Why don’t you come back to bed, handsome?”

  Disentangling her arms, I stood and grabbed my phone, sending a quick text to Dean. He was going to make me pay for this one.

  “I’ll be going to bed once I get you out of it. Dean will take you home.”

  Her mouth dropped. “Are you throwing me out?”

  “I think that’s pretty obvious.”

  “But we were so good together.”

  Wow, this chick was dumber than I thought. “Really? You can’t come up with something better than an overused cliché?”

  She hopped off the bed and started snatching up her clothes. “You’re such an asshole.”

  “That, my dear, is the first thing you’ve gotten right all night.” I nodded to the stuff in her hands. “Dean will be here in about five minutes. You can either get dressed, or you can parade your ass out to the car naked. Either way is fine with me.”

  “Fuck you,” she snapped, pulling her dress over her head.

  I tried to muster up some kind of pity for the woman stuffing her discarded undergarments into her purse and slipping on her shoes.

  Nope.

  Nothing.

  “Do you need me to show you the door?” The sooner she was out of my hair, the better.

  Without a word she spun on her heel, the door slamming into the frame behind her. I open and closed my fists at my side. If I’d listened to my brother, I would have stopped bringing them back to my place. But there was nothing appealing about going to a hotel for a quick fuck.

  Not bothering to dress, I walked out of my room and down the hall to my office, where I poured myself a large glass of scotch and sat down on the sofa in the corner. I didn’t want any more than a quick orgasm from these women, and I made it clear from the beginning. But each and every one of them thought they would be different; that they’d finally trap Miller Hawes. All they really wanted was my money. That, or the connection to my father.

  I knocked back half the glass, the alcohol burning away the memories of the night.

  Why the fuck did I bother? Getting wasted and jerking myself off in the shower brought a better orgasm than any of the loose pussy I’d slipped my dick in recently.

  I downed what was left in my glass. I needed to get some sleep. There was shit to do in the morning that wouldn’t keep.

  Leaving the glass on table for Julie, my housekeeper, to clear away, I climbed into bed and let my mind wander back to my sex life.

  I wouldn’t call it a sex life because it wasn’t sex—it was fucking. And not all of it was good. A woman to share my bed on regular basis would be nice, but I refused to waste my time on notions of love. That shit was for chumps and suckers. My goal was to take over from my father someday, and that couldn’t happen if I had my head in the clouds because of some bitch on my arm. My brother Aston’s girlfriend, Elena, seemed to think I’d feel differently if I’d found someone to give my heart to.

  What she failed to accept was that I didn’t have a heart to give a woman.

  My family . . . yes. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for any of them. Even Elena had breeched my defenses. She cared about my brother in a way I don’t think even he had expected. Most women wouldn’t be able to handle the life we led. Violence, crime, and risk surrounded us all of the time. There was no reprieve. No time out. Elena and my mom were a special kind of woman, accepting the men in their lives for who they were. They didn’t expect them to change.

  No woman in the world could change me.

  ***

  “Raise a grand.”

  The lighting in the room was low, but I didn’t have to see his face properly to know that this fucker had no idea what he was doing. If he kept this shit up, he was going to have to see my brother for a loan to keep playing.

  Wasden slid the chips into the center of the table, his hand shaking. He never knew when to just give up. Worked for me. His tells were obvious, and I could always weasel more money out of him than any of the other morons who graced my tables.

  Without a word, I counted the chips and dropped them into the center of the table. “Flip ’em.”

  I leaned back in my chair, waiting for Wasden to make the call. A slight chill caught my skin and I looked over my shoulder to see the back door closing, a long legged brunette having walked back in. I watched her intently as she made her way to the bar, leaning her elbow against the wooden top and cocking a knee, making her ass jut out at just the perfect angle.

  Her clothes were simple: a plain black dress, and a pair of high heeled shoes the color of emeralds. Nothing special, yet enough to hold my attention. Her hair cascaded down her back and as she ran a hand loosely through the curly mane, I imagined it spread across my pillows, the dark chocolate color in stark contrast to my white s
heets. She called to the barman and such was my effort to hear what she was saying, I almost missed Wasden call and flip his cards.

  Almost.

  Unsurprisingly, all he had were two pair, Jacks high. The smile on his face fell when I flipped my own cards.

  “Fuck you. A goddamn flush?” He stood so fast his chair fell backward, clattering to the ground.

  All heads turned in our direction. Leaning over the table, I steepled my hands in front of me, my teeth clenched tight as I did everything to keep my ass in the chair instead of jumping out of it and beating the ever-loving shit out of the motherfucker in front of me.

  “I suggest you pick up the chair and sit your ass down, Wasden. And if you continue to behave like a fucking animal in my club, I’ll be forced to teach you how to behave properly.” My voice was low and dangerous.

  At least half the people in the room took a step back. Almost everyone knew I didn’t tolerate people acting like assholes just because they lost. Wasden put his hands up, then turned to pick up the chair.

  “Now sit your ass down, or settle up and leave.”

  Wasden’s eyes darted around the room. The rest of the men seated at the table didn’t say a word. They waited to see what Wasden would decide to do. I sat back and waited myself.

  “I’ll play,” he said quietly, taking his seat carefully.

  Smart bastard knew to be careful, which was a good thing because my temper was teetering right on the edge. The dealer looked at me and waited for the signal to deal the cards. I nodded and the game began again. Another drink had been placed in front of me and I let the alcohol cool the anger that had raced through my veins. The first hand after Wasden’s meltdown was played conservatively by everyone at the table.

  Hand after hand we played, the pots growing with each round. Wasden won one or two, but nothing significant. His hands shook every time he pushed chips into the center. I was curious as to what caused his panic. I’d been in this game a long time, and I knew sweats like that were only caused by owing money to someone; someone bad.

  Someone like me.

  But he didn’t owe me any money. Which begged the question who exactly he owed money to.

  If he didn’t owe Ashton, there was only one other person in town that it could be. I’d have to text Ashton on the next break in the action.

  I put my phone down and waited for an answer. The hand continued. I knew this hand was mine no matter what anyone else had in theirs. Four of a kind Kings. There were only two hands that could beat mine: four of a kind Aces, or a straight flush. With only the river card remaining and no Aces or consecutive cards in the same suit in sight, those hands were impossible. Carson flipped the river card.

  Ten of hearts.

  My eyes were immediately drawn to Wasden. He would be the easiest read. Like always, when he thought he had a winning hand he bounced his leg, making his whole body shake. This time he was wrong. He didn’t have much in front of him on the table, but I had a feeling if I bet correctly, I could take him for what he had left.

  “Check.” I kept my posture the same. Any movement would give away what I held.

  Carson tossed a stack of chips into the center. “Two grand.”

  “I’m out,” said Sampson, sliding his cards, face down, into the center.

  The play turned to Sullivan. The expression on his face almost blank, except for the slight twitch at the corner his left eye. Most likely whatever he held in his hand was decent. He scanned the other players, trying to decide if he could bluff the rest of us out.

  Not likely.

  Eventually, he picked up the necessary chips and tossed them into the center. “Call.”

  We all looked to Wasden. He lifted his cards one last time and pushed forward his chips. “Twenty-five hundred.”

  Carson nodded and grabbed the needed chips from his pile. “Three.”

  “Call.” I needed one more of them to fold before I could force Wasden’s hand.

  “Eight grand.”

  I looked at Wasden, only just managing to keep the shock from my face. Normally, the man was very conservative when he increased the pot. But this time, he’d more than doubled it in one round. He lifted a hand and rubbed the back of his neck as he pushed all of his chips forward. He knew the house rules. He must have honestly thought he had a chance to beat me. Then again, the probability of being dealt a pair of Kings was so low, most people didn’t expect it.

  Carson’s eyes were wide as he slid his cards to the center of the table. Most likely he’d been bluffing from the beginning and hoped his high bid would scare people out. “Fuck, that’s it for me. I’m not going home to my wife empty handed.”

  Two down. Two to go. I dropped my chips onto the pile. “Ten.”

  Wasden’s eyes practically bulged out of his skull. “What?” he whispered.

  “Ten grand?” Sullivan repeated. “That shit’s way too much for me.” He slid his cards to the center.

  I turned my attention back to Wasden. He sat there, frozen, staring at the pot in front of him. When he finally looked up, his eyes were haunted.

  “I’m already all-in.”

  I could have felt bad for the guy and given him a break. Ashton probably would have. Unfortunately for him, that wasn’t my style.

  “You know the house rules, Ray. You either match the bet or forfeit the pot.”

  I’d instituted the rule a few years ago when I installed the new poker tables into the place. Getting rich quick on sports betting was one thing, but poker, that was just an insult to the game. A few young idiots came in hoping to hit it big by bluffing and pushing their chips all-in during the first round, forcing everyone else to call them. It pissed the other players off. When one guy almost took out one of the punks in my establishment, I talked to Dad. Neither of us wanted to call for cleanup every night because of that bullshit. So I made it a house rule.

  Anyone who sat down at my tables knew the rules before any chips were set in front of them, including Ray Wasden. If it were at all possible, his hands shook even more when he ran one through his hair. He glanced at the cards on the table and then over to the pile of chips that sat before me. He swallowed hard.

  His head snapped up, eyes bright. “What if I don’t bet cash?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. What in the hell was he up to? “What could you possibly have on you worth two grand?”

  I knew enough to know, even from this distance, that his watch was some cheap knockoff. Beyond that, he didn’t have anything else on that might pay the difference.

  “A night with Theresa.”

  My eyes narrowed. “What the fuck did you just say?”

  “You can have a night with Theresa.”

  How the fuck did my brother and I end up in these situations? I’d never met this Theresa. All I knew about her was that she took no shit from Wasden. My guess was the only reason she kept going back was money. Not that the little shit made a lot of it, but from what he said it was a hell of a lot more than her. He leapt from his seat and went over to the bar. What I hadn’t expected was for him to take the hand of the brunette I’d been watching earlier and lead her over to the table.

  “Miller, this is Theresa. If you win, she’s yours for the night.” He pushed his chest out and held his head high but he wasn’t confident. A confident man doesn’t tremble like Ray Wasden was. Which made it all the more obvious that he needed to win this money.

  But why?

  It became very clear that the only reason he was willing to offer his girlfriend up was he thought he couldn’t lose. Desperation does strange things to people. For a moment, I sat back and pretended to contemplate his offer, when what I was really doing was checking out my winnings.

  Her legs were tan and seemed even longer this close up. Her dress was also shorter than I had first noticed. One wrong move and her ass cheeks would peek out below the hem. The deep V in her neckline exposed smooth, creamy skin in the valley between her breasts. My cock hardened. The last three women I’
d had below me in bed were nothing but a disappointment. Hell, it was the main reason I never waited until the morning to kick them out and send them on their way.

  Her head snapped in his direction. “Ray! What the hell are you thinking?”

  Wasden leaned over to whisper in her ear. Since he had to speak over the music playing throughout the room I could hear exactly what he said. “Don’t worry, babe. I’ve got this in the bag. I just need to throw in something enticing to call the pot and make up the difference.”

  Her nostrils flared. “You’d better be right.”

  Theresa stood, arms crossed over her chest, staring at the game. By now all the attention in the room had turned to our table. This shitshow needed to be over soon. I wasn’t making any money if everyone abandoned their tables to watch what was going on a mine.

  “Fine. Flip ’em.” I said, forcing the issue.

  I’d have time to inspect my winnings later. Much later, back at my place. I’d never force a woman into my bed, but damn if I wouldn’t do my best to convince the woman in front of me there was no better place to be.

  “Full house.” Turning the cards, the ten of clubs and diamonds came into view.

  Theresa clearly knew something about poker because her shoulders relaxed and her arms dropped to her side. Wasden entwined his fingers with hers.

  In a deliberate move, I flipped each card over slowly. The first King came into view and Wasden swallowed hard. When I flipped over the next one, the card landing right under Wasden’s nose, taunting him with the gravity of his mistake, it was with the huge satisfaction of watching Wasden’s head turn slowly from the cards on the table, to the gorgeous woman beside him. Her eyes never left the table as she snatched her hand from his.

  “I . . . I thought . . . I never expected,” Wasden mumbled to himself.

  “Forget it.” Theresa squared her shoulders, which was probably meant to make me take her seriously when all it really did was emphasize the curve of her chest in that dress. “No one in this room is getting anything from me just because my ex-boyfriend thinks it’s okay to use me as collateral in a poker game. Not happening.”