Tough Guy: A Hero Club Novel

only afford one set of lessons and Lisa was a prodigy who had been getting offers before she was ten.
I was the smart one. Lisa was the talented one.
Blinking back tears, I opened my mouth to tell my mother off. But I couldn’t do it. Lisa had sunk down into a dark place after the doctors told her she’d never dance again. Mom didn’t know about the pills Lisa took or how I’d held her hand after they pumped her stomach. Guilt nibbled at me.
“Did you hear the nor’easter is going to dump a foot of snow on us this weekend?” a man walking next to me said into his Bluetooth.
I recoiled. Ugh. It was bad enough that the wind was chapping my cheeks raw now. I wasn’t looking forward to trudging through ankle-deep slush and dirt for weeks.
“Did you hang up on me?” My mother’s shrill voice knocked me out of my thoughts. “When are you leaving for Las Vegas?”
A foot of snow. Or tooling around in the desert in Sin City. Suddenly, there was a little sugar to go with the bitter coffee my mom was pouring down my throat.
Maybe I was approaching this the wrong way. Lisa was probably fine, but my mother wouldn’t leave either one of us alone until she knew for sure. The casting director really liked me. There would be another audition soon and I’d ace that too. I could have a mini vacation and find Lisa. It was a win-win situation.
A little flutter of excitement started in my stomach. I loved Las Vegas. I’d had some good times on spring break there. A few memories made me blush and shake my head. I was lucky I wasn’t caught on a Girls Gone Wild video. That was how out of control I’d gotten in the clubs down there.
Las Vegas was a hell of a temptation even when you weren’t a carefree coed. Lisa could very well be in over her head. Or she could be having the time of her life. There was something about the town that encouraged you to go crazy and do things you would never in your right mind do anywhere else. On my twenty-first birthday, I took a bouncer home and had a hot-and-heavy one-night stand that I still thought about. Vegas was a good time.
I deserved another no-holds-barred week to make it up to myself for giving up the job to dance on stage in order to find my pain-in-the-ass sister. After all, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?
“Lisa doesn’t have a lot of money in her escrow account,” I said. “And I can’t afford to pay for this out of pocket.”
“How much is this going to cost me?” my mother said flatly.
“We don’t have to do this, you know.”
“Fine. Put it on your credit card and send me an expense report. What Lisa’s royalties and residuals won’t pay for, I’ll cover.”
I pumped my fist. I was getting smarter at dealing with my mother. She had the time and discretionary funds to drop everything and get on a plane. I didn’t. I still needed to work to pay my bills and make rent. This adventure was going to cut in on my bottom line. “I’m going to need some spending cash,” I pushed.
“I’ll wire you two thousand dollars and not a dime more. And I want every cent accounted for.”
I blinked. That was twice what I was going to ask for. She was serious if she was dipping into her bank account. Despite having inherited a ton from her parents, my mother was a notorious tight wad.
“Don’t you dare blow it in the casinos.”
Rolling my eyes, I pictured myself throwing dice on a craps table. I didn’t even know how that worked. Did I want a seven? Did I want snake eyes? She should have warned me not to blow it all on spa treatments because that was more my style. So I would have cash, my expenses would be paid, and I’d be out of the snow. I should be overjoyed. Instead, I felt like I had taken a huge step backward in my career and life.
“I’ll call you when I land,” I said, but there was a part of me already regretting my decision. I needed to stop letting my mother and sister dictate my life. And I would. Just not today.

Chapter Two
Miles Carvello
I dodged a punch, grabbed the asshole’s wrist, and twisted his arm behind his back. “Not in my bar, motherfucker,” I told him and literally kicked his ass out of Dalton’s.
My bouncers were the best money could buy on or off the Las Vegas strip—and we were very much off the Strip, which probably is why these drunken frat boys thought they could get away with this kind of shit in my club.
“You need help, mate?” Chance Bateman said. He and some of his soccer buddies were sitting on barstools with their backs to the bar, itching to get into the fight. Chance and I went way back when I took a bottle in the head for him at an unruly club in Sidney. He was a great guy—bloke, as he said. It was a shame that he only played one game professionally before an injury sidelined his career for good.
“We got this,” I said. “You boys keep drinking and watching the girls.” That was all I needed. Five half-crocked Aussies “helping” me.
“What’s a bachelor party without a biffo?” Chance grinned and slid off his seat.
Hell no. I looked over my shoulder and gave a sharp whistle. Kikki, Betty, and Nalia wound their way through the combatants toward the private lounge, their tassels shaking from all the right places.
“I’ve got a better idea,” I said, tugging Chance back. “Why don’t you take the groom and the rest of the blokes over to the VIP lounge? Free champagne beer for as long as the fight out here lasts.”
“Good man.” Chance clapped me on the shoulder and herded his team