Lethal Seduction
“Guess what?” Jamie said, gathering her chips and getting up from the table.
“What?” he said shortly, as the fat man in the seersucker suit gave him an “if looks could kill” glare.
“I won a thousand dollars! You taught me well.”
“Yeah?” he said, not remotely interested.
“What happened to you?” she asked, taking in his disheveled appearance. “You’re a terrible mess.”
“I uh . . . had a nosebleed.”
“You’re very pale. And anyway, why aren’t you at the fight?”
What was she—dense? “ ’Cause I had a nosebleed,” he said, repeating himself.
“You don’t look good at all. Come upstairs to my room and I’ll try to clean you up.”
“That’s sweet, Jamie, but . . . Aw . . . jeez,” he said, almost doubling over from a sudden shooting pain. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”
“You should,” she said, holding onto his arm. “It’s the least I can do after you helped me win all that money.”
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “An’ I didn’t think you could play for shit.”
“Thanks,” she said with a wry laugh, leading him over to the elevator.
He stifled a groan. His balls felt like they’d been through a shredding machine.
“How come you’re not at the fight?” he managed.
“Too violent,” she said, screwing up her nose. “I can’t stand the sight of blood.”
•
As the elevator doors closed on Jamie and Joel, Rosarita stalked past, missing them by seconds. She was fuming. Next time she got hold of Joel Blaine, he would pay for keeping her waiting and making her miss the beginning of the fight.
How rude! No fucking manners.
Busily muttering under her breath, she strode through the casino until she reached the red carpet that led into the arena. The area was deserted as everyone was now inside.
“Damn!” she exclaimed, still furious at Joel. “Damn, damn, damn!”
She sought out an attendant at the back of the arena and thrust her ticket at him.
“You can’t go in now, ma’am,” he explained. “They’re in the middle of a round.”
“I can see that,” she said shortly.
“You’ll have to wait.”
“I’m not waiting for anybody,” she said, steaming. “My seat’s ringside. Take me there right now.”
“People don’t like being disturbed in the middle of the fight,” the attendant said, foolishly arguing.
“Fuck ’em,” she said forcefully, sounding suspiciously like Chas. “Lead the way, or I’ll make damn sure you’re fired.”
•
“Tell me the truth about what happened,” Jamie said as they entered her room.
“What truth?” Joel said, collapsing in a chair.
“Well, frankly, Joel, you look like you’ve been beaten up. Your jacket’s ripped, and you’re white as a ghost. I repeat—what happened?”
“Aw, shit, I dunno,” he mumbled. “Coupla guys had a beef with me about money they think I owe.”
“How can you owe money?” she said incredulously. “Your father’s one of the richest men in America.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah—tell me about it. Stupid, huh? A bad fuckin’ joke.”
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
“Yeah, so am I.”
“I’ve got an idea,” she said. “Why don’t we order a bottle of champagne and celebrate?”
“Celebrate what?” he said sourly. “I’ve got nothing to celebrate.”
“My thousand dollars,” she said, smiling brightly. “Pretty good for a novice, isn’t it?”
“I guess so,” he conceded.
“Some man was trying to give me pointers. He wasn’t as helpful as you, though.”
“No?” he said, perking up, because if he wasn’t mistaken, Jamie was coming on to him.
“Oh God, I’ve had so much champagne,” she sighed, throwing herself down on the bed. “I feel a little bit crazy.”
“You do?” he said, taking another look at her. How come he’d never thought about Jamie Nova in a sexual way? Was it because she was married, and he didn’t care to deal with her husband? No, that couldn’t be the case. What did he care about husbands? His affair with Rosarita proved that wasn’t an issue.
The truth was that he didn’t find Jamie that sexy. She was too pure-looking, too Grace Kelly in those old TV movies. There was something about her that wasn’t his style. She looked like she’d have clean sex, not dirty sex—the way he liked it.
But still . . . she was a beauty. And those legs! Jeez! They went on forever.
He wondered if she realized that her skirt was riding up so high, revealing acres of succulent thigh. Then he wondered if she was doing it on purpose.
“Order the champagne, Joel,” she murmured, yawning. “I’m feeling mighty thirsty.”
Who was he to turn down an opportunity when it was staring him in the face?
“Yeah, sure,” he said, trying to forget about his aching balls. “I’ll order the champagne. You put on the music.”
“Music?” she said, amused. “Oooh, are you trying to get me in the mood, Joel?”
“Why would I wanna do that?”
She rolled over onto her stomach. “I’ve always found you very attractive,” she murmured seductively.
“You have?”
“Yes.” A soft laugh. “I kind of . . . you know . . . had little fantasies about you.”
“No kiddin’?” This could work out better than he’d imagined. “Wanna tell me about ’em?”
“Well,” she said, pausing provocatively. “You’re different. You’ve got energy. Peter is too uptight, he never has energy. Peter is actually a walking, talking Ralph Lauren ad.”
“No shit?” Joel said, grinning.
And suddenly the ache in his balls was not as bad as he’d thought.
•
Round two belonged to the Bull, and he took it with a great deal of pride.
Antonio was surprised. Round one had definitely been his, but now the Bull was all over him like a Mack truck, and he didn’t appreciate it.
He tried giving back his best, but the Bull was having none of it. I’m getting rid of this cocky little bastard up front, the Bull was saying to himself.
And it showed.
•
Rosarita squeezed past Bruce Willis, allowing her ass to graze his knees. Hmm . . . she thought with a self-satisfied smirk—that’ll give the famous movie star something to think about.
Finally she made it to her seat next to Dexter, out of breath and still furious at Joel.
“Where have you been?” Dexter asked.
“I told you, I had to get my wrap,” she replied, peering at him, wondering when the poison was going to take effect. “Then I got stuck in the bathroom.”
“What do you mean, ‘stuck in the bathroom’?”
“Oh forget about it,” she said irritably, turning her attention to the ring.
Two half-naked, sweaty men and the promise of blood.
What more could a girl ask for?
CHAPTER
59
THE ROOM-SERVICE waiter was Cuban, and although unfortunately short, was quite attractive. He delivered the champagne in an ice bucket. “Would you like me to open it?” he asked, slyly checking Jamie out.
“Yeah,” Joel said, reaching in his pocket for a tip.
“Oh, yes,” Jamie agreed, giggling. The waiter was so cute that if she didn’t score with Joel, then he’d definitely be a contender.
•
Round three, and Antonio was making another stab at dominating the champ.
No go. Bull Ali was a wall of muscle. A solid brick wall of a man with a devastating right-hand punch, which he now started to use to good effect, pounding away at Antonio’s face. Not a popular move with The Panther, who was very protective of his handsome features.
By the end of the round, Bull Ali had opened a
cut above Antonio’s left eye, and blood was beginning to dribble down his face.
The crowd loved it.
•
“Your message light is blinking,” Joel pointed out.
“You pour the champagne while I listen to my messages,” Jamie said, feeling deliciously light-headed. “Then we should do something about cleaning you up. Maybe you should buzz the valet and get them to fix your jacket.”
“I’ll take care of it at my hotel.”
“Don’t wanna take your clothes off, huh?” she teased, pointing her tongue at him in a provocative fashion.
Talk about a come-on. This babe was panting to climb Mount Everest, no doubt about that.
Only drawback was he still felt like shit. The ache in his balls was not abating, and his stomach was continuing to cramp—which was all he needed. “Gotta use your bathroom,” he mumbled.
“Go ahead,” she said, picking up the phone and pressing the message button. “Jamie!” Peter’s angry voice screamed in her ear. “What are you thinking, goddamnit! I know you wanted to be with Madison on her birthday. But to sneak off to Vegas without telling me is stupid and childish. I’d come get you, but you know I can’t stand that city. You and I need to sit down and have a serious talk, because I refuse to put up with this spoiled, selfish behavior. Grow up, Jamie, it’s about time you realized you’re a married woman.”
She put down the phone incensed, his words ringing in her ears. Stupid. Childish. Spoiled. Selfish.
How dare he!
Peter’s harsh words were too much, considering what he was busy doing.
“Joel,” she yelled, jumping off the bed and stepping out of her dress. “Get in here. I’m ready to fuck your brains out!”
•
Round four belonged to Bull Ali, and Antonio was in trouble. The cut above his eye had deepened and split, and now the blood was gushing like a geyser. Bull Ali dogged him around the ring, and Antonio was taking a lot of punishment.
Mrs. Bull Ali raised her expensive prayer beads to her lips and kissed them with a fervent murmur of thanks.
As far as she was concerned, it was all over.
•
“If one spot of blood splashes on my dress, I’m out of here,” Rosarita complained shrilly.
“Go,” Dexter responded.
She spun around to favor him with a malevolent glare. “What did you say?”
“Go. Get out. Do what you want.”
Well, obviously the poison was doing its stuff, because she’d never witnessed Dex act like this before. “Excuse me?” she said, still glaring.
The crowd roared as Bull Ali landed another punch above Antonio’s damaged eye.
“I said get out, because that’s what I’m doing.”
“Ha!” Rosarita jeered. “A touch late in the day for you to be making threats.”
Chas leaned across from his seat. “Will you two shut the fuck up,” he said gruffly. “I’m tryin’ t’watch a slaughter here, an’ who can concentrate wit’ the two of you yammerin’ away.”
•
“I can’t watch this,” Madison said, covering her eyes. “It’s totally barbaric.”
“No,” Mr. Mogul said. “It’s two big hunks of masculine flesh hammering out their aggressions.”
“Get real,” Natalie said succinctly. “It’s two greedy jerks beatin’ the crap outta each other for big bucks.”
“Whatever it is,” Madison said, “I loathe it. The way this guy’s pounding Antonio, he’ll have no face left by the time they put a stop to it. And aren’t they supposed to do that when it gets bad?”
“The promoters cater to the crowd, not the boxers’ welfare,” Mr. Mogul said.
“Oh, really? Well, it’s about time the rules were changed.”
“Try gettin’ them to ban cigarettes first,” Natalie said. “It’s all big business. Ouch!!” she exclaimed. “Did you see that?”
And as Antonio fell to the canvas, Madison suddenly felt desperately sorry for him.
•
Never one to turn down an out-and-out invitation, Joel emerged from the bathroom.
Miss Clean Sex herself had removed her dress and thrown herself down in the middle of the bed, clad only in a pristine white lace bra and bikini-cut panties. Not even a thong to get him in the mood.
Some guys would go ape shit over Jamie Nova—the classic blond beauty. But he simply couldn’t get that excited.
He threw off his ripped jacket, pulled his black silk turtleneck over his head and dropped his pants. Surveying him from her position on the bed, Jamie noticed that he was extremely well endowed, or, as Natalie would say, “The dude is hung like an award-winning stallion on a good day!” Natalie-isms were quite memorable.
Jamie reached for the champagne and took a few gulps from the bottle to bolster her courage. This was a revenge fuck. Nothing more. Nothing less. But she might as well enjoy it.
Unfortunately, the only way she could do that was if she was ever so slightly drunk.
•
Round five. And Antonio was still taking a lot of punishment. Not only was Bull Ali pounding him with a series of vicious right jabs, but the blood from the cut above his eye was beginning to blur his vision.
Antonio tried counterpunching, hitting the taller boxer with a flurry of blows to the body.
Bull Ali wasn’t having it. He’d knocked Antonio to the canvas once, and in this round he planned to do it permanently.
•
To his horror, Joel could not get a hard-on. This had never happened to him in his life. Oh sure, he’d heard about it happening to other guys—but to him? Never.
He was on top of what most guys would consider a very delectable piece, and goddamnit—he couldn’t get it up.
Quickly he tried to summon a mental picture of Rosarita in one of her leopard-print thongs and a nippleless bra. She always got him horny.
Christ! He suddenly remembered his rendezvous with her, which he’d failed to keep. Rosarita would be madder than a crazy wildcat.
Of course, when she heard his story, perhaps she’d understand. Especially if he embellished, and he was good at that.
And if she didn’t understand—screw her. There were plenty of Rosaritas in New York. Maybe it was time he found himself a new married woman.
Thinking about Rosarita did not solve his problem with Jamie. Jesus! The reason he couldn’t get it up was because his balls were giving him hell, his stomach was a mass of shooting pains and he was sick. Those creepo paid bastards had made him fucking sick!
“You okay?” Jamie asked, acutely aware that nothing was happening and naturally blaming herself.
“Huh?” he muttered, sprawled on top of her like a deadweight. “I . . . I don’t feel so good.”
“Oh?” she said, wriggling out from under him. “Is it . . . something about me?”
“No, honey,” he assured her. “You’re a babe. It’s me, I feel like shit. I didn’t tell you before, but those motherfuckers kicked me in the stomach, an’ I think they’ve . . . Jesus Christ, I think they’ve done something bad to me.”
She knelt up on all fours, still clad in her underwear. “I’m sorry,” she said sympathetically, before bursting into floods of tears.
Christ! This was all he needed—almost doubled over with pain, and a sobbing, half-naked woman on his case.
“What’s your problem?” he managed to say. “I don’t go for all this crying stuff.”
“I’m upset about Peter and what happened.” She sobbed mournfully. “All I wanted was to get my own back on him. I was planning on doing it with Kris Phoenix, but then his girlfriend walked in on us. Now you can’t even get an erection. Is it something about me? Is that why Peter had to go off with a man?”
Joel’s eyebrows shot up. “Peter is into guys?”
“Yes. Why do you think I’m doing this? Oh God,” she wailed. “I shouldn’t be here,” and she jumped off the bed.
“You’d better call a doctor,” Joel groaned, clutching h
is stomach. “An’ do it fast.”
“You feel that bad?” she asked, staring at him, upset because she was certain it was her fault that he was incapable of having sex.
“I promise—it’s not you, babe,” he gasped. “It’s those fuckin’ guys . . . they kicked the shit outta me, an’ . . . aw, Jesus!” He rolled over and closed his eyes.
“Joel?” Jamie said, shaking his shoulder. “Wake up. What’s going on?”
He groaned and brought his legs up to his chest. Then he let out a long, strangled cry, choked a little bit, and after that there was silence.
CHAPTER
60
ROUND SIX. Bull Ali was the champion, and everyone knew it. Everyone, that is, except Antonio. Between rounds he’d huddled in his corner with his handlers while they’d lectured him on his next moves.
“Stop tellin’ me what to do,” he’d said, spitting blood into a bucket. “I listened to you guys, an’ it got me nowhere. I’m goin’ back in there and doin’ it my way.”
“Be cool, Tonio,” his manager warned. “That’s all you can do. An’ if he drops you again, stay there—before he does more damage.”
“Fuck you!” Antonio had mumbled. “I’m gonna be champ. Y’can bet your fuckin’ cojones on it.”
Now he could barely see out of his left eye, but he knew if he could avoid any more punishment to the area, he had a chance. And the champ did have one big weakness. His arrogance.
Antonio got in a couple of quick body jabs. And then he went with his prize move—a solid left hook to the jaw that took Bull Ali by surprise and almost knocked him off his feet.
The crowd roared. The underdog was fighting back.
Bull Ali slammed into motion, but now Antonio was fired with adrenaline and knew he had to seize the opportunity to win the battle.
Stay focused, he told himself. Ignore the pain. You, Antonio “The Panther” Lopez, are destined to be champion.
And from out of nowhere he turned into a ferocious dynamo, swift on his feet, skillfully avoiding Bull Ali’s attempts to do further damage to the cut above his eye. He was finally living up to his reputation as The Panther. Sleek and fast, he was back in action.
As he circled his opponent, he knew for sure that there was no way he could win this fight on points. Too late for that. His only chance was to knock the champ out. Otherwise, he would definitely lose.