Shot Caller (A Bad Boy's Baby Novel) by Colleen Masters Read Free Book Online Page A

burst
through the front doors, drawing huge breaths into my lungs. Leaning back
against the exterior of the building, I’m amazed at what an insanely powerful
effect one glance of Maddox had on me back there. I’m gonna need to rethink my
strategy for how to deal with him, starting tomorrow. O’Leary clearly already
thinks of me as nothing more than a frivolous little girl. I can’t give him a
single scrap of evidence to back up that hypothesis, or he’ll never learn to
take me seriously. And if there’s one thing I absolutely hate, it’s not being
taken seriously because I’m a woman.
    Shaken
but standing, I head around the huge, new stadium toward my car. An old friend
of mine from college is letting me crash at her beach house here in Atlantic
City, since it’s the off season and all. Hopefully, there’s a liquor store or
two on the way home. I need a drink after my close encounter with the most
dangerous Mad Man around.

 
     
    Chapter Five
    Maddox
     
    The next morning…
     
    “Mr.
Walcott, this is your wakeup call,” a chipper female voice chirps into my ear
when I manage to find the hotel phone in my pitch black room. “It’s 6 a.m.”
    “Fuck,” I mutter, rolling onto my
back, “You kiddin’ me?”
    “Um…Nope.
I’m afraid not,” the
woman laughs nervously, “Up and at ‘em!”
    “Don’t
‘up and at ‘em’ me,
Little Miss Sunshine,” I
bark, regretting the last round of tequila shots I bought for my blackjack
table at the casino last night. I fucking love tequila, but it doesn’t always
love me back, fickle bitch that it is.
    I’m
pretty sure I hear the woman on the phone swallow a sob before she hangs up.
Why are people always bloody weeping around me? I’m not that fucking
scary, for Christ’s sake. Not unless you’ve messed with one of my brothers at
The Firm, or owe me a spot of cash, or have looked at Rosie funny even one
time…
    Thanks
to a lousy case of jet lag, I barely got to sleep last night. I had to hang
around downstairs at the casino instead to try and tucker myself out. I’d say
that strategy backfired, but hey—nothing to do but own it. It’s not like I need
to be in the prime of my life to keep up with the Yanks at practice. I lumber
around the dark suite, still more or less asleep as I slip into my cold-weather
running gear. I need to go sweat out some of this booze before I head to
practice, or I’ll never hear the bloody end of it. A nice run along the
boardwalk should do the trick just fine.
    My
hotel is part of the Tangier Casino, located smack in the middle of the action
in Atlantic City. It’s one of the casinos that’s still doing pretty well in
this town, which god knows isn’t a given these days. The tanking economy in
this place is why The Empire have come to be in the first place. Turns out,
Dale Tucker used to be a casino man himself, but ran out of luck after
Hurricane Sandy wrecked his main joint. Instead of shelling out to repair his
casino, he decided to round up some investors and turn his prime Atlantic City
lot into a football stadium instead. Talk about high stakes gambling.
    Stepping
out of the Tangier’s front doors, I break into a light jog as I head for the
beach, marveling at how quiet the place is at this hour of the morning. I guess
that most of the hardcore revelers have finally turned in by now, though even
they’re small in number since it’s winter and all. In the daylight hours, the
only people shuffling around the casinos are sad old senior citizens, parking
their walkers next to the slots and staying there all day. Fucking depressing.
No wonder Tucker wanted out of the casino game.
    But
for right now, it’s just me, the sky, and the sea. Some days, I think that’s
all I really need… Though
a new sports car every once in a while is pretty nice too.

 
     
    Chapter Six
    Poppy
     
    It’s
surprisingly mild as I step out onto the deck of my borrowed seaside bungalow.
This particular stretch of the Atlantic City