Bury the Hatchet (38 page)

Catherine Gayle is a USA Today bestselling author of Regency-set historical romance and contemporary hockey romance. She’s a transplanted Texan living in North Carolina with two extremely spoiled felines. In her spare time, she watches way too much hockey and reality TV, plans fun things to do for the Nephew Monster’s next visit, and performs experiments in the kitchen which are rarely toxic.

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BURY THE HATCHET is Book 1 in the
Tulsa Thunderbirds
hockey romance series, a spin-off from USA Today bestselling author Catherine Gayle’s
Portland Storm
. Look for Book 2, SMOKE SIGNALS, on October 22, 2015. Book 3, GHOST DANCE, will release on May 5, 2016.

If you want to read an exclusive preview of SMOKE SIGNALS, keep reading. The first chapter is included! Keep in mind that at this point, the sneak peek is unedited and subject to change.

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Tulsa Thunderbirds
discussion? Join the
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If you enjoy this book and want to try more of the same, be sure to look for the
Portland Storm
books: BREAKAWAY, ON THE FLY, TAKING A SHOT, LIGHT THE LAMP, DELAY OF GAME, DOUBLE MAJOR, IN THE ZONE, HOLIDAY HAT TRICK, COMEBACK, and DROPPING GLOVES. HOME ICE will release on August 13, 2015. LOSING AN EDGE will release on February 18, 2016. Also, join Catherine Gayle’s
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Portland Storm
short story prequel that you can’t get anywhere else.

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I’D ONLY BEEN
on the casino floor for ten minutes when I found him.

He stood at a high-roller craps table with three other men. They were big. Good looking, dressed in expensive clothes. Each man had a drink in his hand. They were laughing, talking, gambling… All but him.

He was watching me.

That was how I knew he was the one.

He said something to them every now and then, and he laughed when they did, but his eyes followed my every move as I made my way through the room. Did he recognize me? That was a possibility. I’d been in some high profile films lately, so more and more men knew my face. Well, technically they probably knew my tits or my ass, but that was beside the point.

My growing notoriety had been the issue, actually. It was the reason I was here now. And at the moment, it might very well solve my problems.

Whether he recognized me or not, he hadn’t taken his gaze off me at all as I’d circled the casino floor, debating my options. Not that there’d been much to debate. Most of the men in the room were gathered around lower limit tables, keeping close tabs on their chips and their wallets. A few had looked up at me and winked when I’d given them seductive smiles. None but him had maintained eye contact, though. They’d gone back to their games, pushing me from their minds. All but him.

When I first saw him, I’d caught his gaze and licked my lips before biting the lower one. That was my signature move, the one that they asked of me in every film I’d made over the last year. The directors always said it made me look innocently arousing. He’d raised a brow in response, so I’d crooked a finger at him, beckoning him toward me. But then he’d shrugged, waving a hand to indicate his friends. I’d shrugged, as well, before continuing my canvas of the casino.

I’d made my way through the whole place, though, and no one else had seemed a likely target. He was still watching me, very much interested, as I slid up to his side while the dealer sorted the chips into the appropriate places based on the previous roll of the dice.

“Hi,” my target said quietly by my ear.

I flickered my gaze up to him, startled by the clear blue of his eyes. They pierced me, a sharp contrast to his dark, sleek hair. Up close, I could see his nose was slightly bent, like it had been broken at some point, and he had a scar on his left cheek, a faint pink jagged line. Those two imperfections kept him from being too perfect, too sexy, but just barely. He was even bigger than I’d thought, now that I was right up next to him. Even his forearms bore lined muscles, and a tattoo peeked out from beneath the sleeve of his designer shirt. My heart thumped so hard I was sure he could hear it.

I’d expected him to reek of expensive cologne, but he didn’t. He smelled good enough to eat. That was another point in his favor. Another sign that he was the one.

My mouth went dry, and goose bumps popped up all along my arms. I couldn’t lose my courage now. It was just sex. Sex was nothing. Sex was my job, especially now. I wet my lips again, fully aware of his gaze following the path of my tongue. “Hello,” I murmured.

His friends passed more chips around the table, placing the bets they were bound to lose. I was betting on the fact that my quarry and I would be leaving the table before I needed to place a bet, and I intended to win mine.

I had no other options.

The corners of his lips curled up in the hint of a smile. “You look familiar to me.”

“Do I?” I batted my lashes, feigning innocence.

“I’d remember your voice, though. That accent. Not a chance I’d forget you.”

The accent was proving to work in my favor, much as I’d expected. That was one of the many reasons my agent, Rick, had been so eager to work with me, when I’d first sought him out.
A fucking Russian ballerina with legs for miles?
he’d said.
Keep using that pretty little mouth like that, and you’ll have all the work you can handle and then some.
I wasn’t sure, at the time, if he’d been talking about my thick Eastern European accent or the blowjob I was giving him so he could ‘sample the product.’ Actually, I still wasn’t certain. Either way, he’d held up his end of the bargain for as long as I’d been able to keep working in the porn industry. I couldn’t anymore, though. Once the directors of my school had learned of how I’d been spending my weekends, I’d been kicked out of the program—and I’d lost my green card in the process. No green card, no porn jobs. They were sticklers for following the rules, in that industry. Regular STD testing. Proper record keeping. Everything was above board.

Maybe not
everything
, but many things. The things people outside the industry knew about. Certain things were kept quiet.

I was trying to stay on the right side of the law now, too. That was why I’d come to Vegas. Prostitution was legal in Nevada, and I’d already been selling sex for so long it no longer made me blanch at the thought. It wouldn’t help me get my green card reinstated, but it could at least help me earn enough money to fly back to St. Petersburg. Not that I had any idea what I’d do when I got home, but that was something I would have to figure out later.

No matter how nervous I might be about what I was attempting to do right now, I refused to back down. There was no Plan B. I had to move forward. “I could give you a better reason to remember me,” I said, slowly. Deliberately. I held his gaze, stomach churning, while I waited for him to take my bait.

The craps dealer got his attention, waiting for him to place his bet.

My target held my gaze, his eyes narrowed, studying me. Then he turned to the dealer and shook his head. “I’m done, boys. Calling it a night. Here.” He shoved a pile of chips over to the man to his left. “Finish this off for me, Babs. I’ll see you all bright and early in the morning.”

“Not too fucking early,” one of the other men said.

“Too early for you,” the third added with a smirk.

“Everything’s too early for Koz,” the one called Babs said. The other guys laughed and nodded their agreement. Then he turned to my guy, checking me out briefly before giving him a questioning look. “You know what you’re doing?”

He chuckled and said something quietly to Babs, his voice muffled so I couldn’t make it out.

“All right. Just don’t be late tomorrow. You’ve got the rings, and Katie won’t hesitate to kill you if you fuck up her wedding.”

“Katie loves me. She won’t kill me.” He put an arm around my waist, drawing me to his side. I’d noted the muscle in his arms, but feeling them up close and in person was something else entirely.

“Maybe she won’t, but Webs will,” the guy they called Koz said, waggling his brows.

The four men traded a few more barbs, but then my guy backed away, tugging me with him. Once we were in the hotel lobby instead of the casino, and we could hear each other better, he dropped his voice from the jocular tone he’d used with his friends. “So what’s your name, beautiful?”

“Viktoriya,” I said. I didn’t see any need to mention my surname, Dubrovskaya. I’d never used it in my work. It had only been relevant to my future in ballet, which was now nonexistent. Rick had suggested I just go by my given name since the spelling was unique enough to be memorable in the States. He’d said I could be like Cher or Prince. Everyone would know me by my name and my accent, and that would be enough.

The man at my side let out a humming sound and nodded for a hotel worker to call the elevator. “Viktoriya, huh? Pretty name. I’m Ray. Everyone calls me Razor.” The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Razor led me onto it and pressed the button for the penthouse. Once the doors closed and we were alone, he moved in front of me, his body crowding mine back into the corner. I was used to having men in my space, though. This was nothing new. I refused to let it faze me. His eyes bored into mine, locking onto me like laser beams. “So what do you want, Viktoriya? You looking for a good, hard fuck?”

I bit down on my tongue, taking my time before answering so I could be sure I didn’t say what I was really thinking. I pasted a provocative smile on my lips, keeping my eyes flirty and playful. “You can fuck me as hard as you want…for a price.”

He didn’t respond, though. He just kept staring at me. Through me. One thing was for sure—this man was intense. My heart felt as though it would pound through my skin, and I was about to laugh it off and tell him to never mind, it was a joke, I didn’t mean it but he could still fuck me if he wanted when the elevator doors opened.

Razor took my hand and led me out into the hall. We walked to the end, and he stopped before opening the door, edging me against the wall. He leaned in toward me, one hand on either side of my head so I had no choice but to focus on him and only him.

“You know prostitution is illegal in Las Vegas, don’t you?” he finally said.

“It’s not.” I shook my head. It couldn’t be. Rick had specifically told me that I could sell my body in Nevada if I wanted to, that I wouldn’t get busted by any cops for it. It would be safe for me to do here, that I’d only have to worry about STDs and pregnancy and crazy fuckers who might want something I wasn’t quite on board with.