Sin City (Book 5 of Billionaire Bad Boys Series)

1

Nevada Air Base…

Captain Brandy Bent stood tall her back straight and at attention as her father and Brigadier-General Arthur Bent pinned the medal above her heart to commemorate her bravery overseas. She had flown over seventeen missions and dropped bombs on Baghdad. Her squad had bailed out on her last mission when the enemy fighter jets locked on and blew them out of the sky. Thanks to her calm, cool head she managed to see that her whole squad made it back alive, though many of them were banged up including her. She’d dislocated her shoulder when she bailed out and hit a mountain range coming down.

Having almost lost Brandy her father had requested she be transferred stateside, to be assigned to a safer duty. She had just been appointed to the Military Police division on the Nevada Air Base. A cushy easy job running the division. She would miss the action and the flight time, but she would welcome the rest.

Her father saluted her and Brandy saluted back. She came from a long line of military. Her father was air force; her brothers were air force, her grandfather and his father had been air force. It ran in her blood. She stood with her squad while her father finished handing out the medals.

When they were dismissed, her friends took Brandy aside telling her how proud they were of her. “This deserves celebration.” Her friend Judy Tudor said patting her on the back. Judy was a teacher who lived on the base. She was married to a pilot who was presently deployed in Iraq. She was a dark-haired woman who wore her hair short. She wasn’t a drop-dead gorgeous woman, but the guys seemed to like her nonetheless with her curvy figure. She was very tall for a woman.

“I say we go into the city and live it up a little.” Fey Reel said doing a little dance shuffle that made the rest of them laugh. “Go clubbing. I can already feel the music.” She said. Fey was a waitress that worked in the city but lived on base with her husband who also happened to be a pilot. Fey was short with long brown hair. She was pretty, and she liked to flirt which often got her tips and in trouble with her husband, Nick.

Nick and Brandy had been flying together for four years, but now he was grounded for conduct unbecoming of an officer and had been reassigned to recruitment. He was a big guy very G.I. with his fitness crazy personality and his short crew cut. Like his wife, he had come out to see Brandy get her medal.

“I can already sense drama.” Teased Dania Mickelson as she noticed the annoyed look on Nick’s face. Nick and Fey fought all the time honestly Brandy didn’t understand why they put up with one another. Dania was a pretty blond that worked as a poker dealer in the city. Like the other two, she was a pilot’s wife, and her husband was flying bombers over Afghanistan. “But I think Judy is right we need to celebrate. Us girls we’ll go out and get crazy.”

“Not too crazy,” Nick said glaring at his wife.

“Party pooper,” Fey said sticking her tongue out at him.

“I’d love to go dancing.” Brandy said eagerly. She hadn’t been stateside in almost a year, and she needed some downtime.

“Ok so let’s go get dolled up and hit Vegas.” Fey grinned. “I’ll pick you up in an hour.” She said as she and Nick walked off quietly arguing as they did.

“Why are those two not divorced again?” Judy asked.

“I think they fight so that they can have make-up s*x,” Dania said with a chuckle. “Ok I’m going to go get changed, and we’ll hit the town and get you laid.” She said poking Brandy. God knew she could use it. She’d been overseas for a long time, and she didn’t sleep with the other officers. It just complicated things. It had been nearly eighteen months since she’d been with anyone and even that had been disappointing.

They split up heading back to their respective lodgings. The girls lived in some small row houses while Brandy lived in the women’s barracks, which were more like apartments. They were small, but she didn’t need much space. She raced home and showered then changed. Taking her hair down and trading her uniform for a red cocktail dress. She looked at herself in the mirror and fixed her make-up. She fluffed her long blond hair trying to give it somebody.

Brandy usually did fairly well for herself. She was pretty with a curvy figure and pale blue eyes. All her life people had been teasing her calling her G.I. Barbie, claiming she was perfect. She tried so hard to prove she was more than just a pretty face. To be taken seriously but even in uniform, she was a target for sexist remarks and s****l harassment.

At thirty-five Brandy should have been married. Her mother was always telling her how she should have a husband, how she wanted grandchildren, how Brandy never gave anyone a chance. She didn’t care what the world thought she should be. It wasn’t that she had anything against settling down she just wanted to be sure she was settling down with the right guy, and so far, Mr. Right just hadn’t come along. Right now, she was all about her career and any man she would be with had to be accepting of that because she wasn’t giving it up.

Career hungry women like Brandy often turned guys off even with her stunning good looks. Men couldn’t handle a strong independent woman with lofty goals. One day she would be a general, and she wasn’t going to let any guy stand in her way. What she needed was a man that was both driven and confident. Someone that could appreciate a woman that could stand on her own two feet.

She ran her hand over her skirt pressing out the wrinkles when she heard the sound of a honking horn. Brandy went to the window and spotted the ladies outside in Fey’s SUV. Brandy grabbed her handbag and headed out to the vehicle. She climbed into the back with Dania. They all looked good gussied up and ready to take on the town. Las Vegas here they came.

***

Justin tried to catch his breath as April rolled off him panting heavily. He’d just gotten into town earlier that day, and the guys suggested they get together. He had every intention of getting together tonight, but he’d been feeling pent up and decided to visit April on his way to the club. It wasn’t that he liked April. Actually she annoyed him greatly but she was easy, and he was looking for a sure thing.

As far as he knew April put out for anyone for any reason. He lay in her bed and turned his head to look at the clock and see what time it was. He glanced at the clock and then noticed the pill bottle beside the clock. He reached out and picked it up. “Penicillin? Why the hell are you taking penicillin, and please don’t say chlamydia.” He asked hopefully. Knowing April, it very well could be some STD.

“I got a cold.” She snapped taking the bottle from him and putting it on the night table next to her.

“Yeah right, I swear to god if you give me something I’ll kill you.” He said getting out of bed. He grabbed his shorts up off the floor and jerked them on.

“Oh, bite me that only happened once.” She defended herself. April was a very pretty woman, but she was easier to nail than a two-by-four with the IQ of a turnip still she f****d like a pro, and he didn’t have to pay for it. She’d do s**t most women wouldn’t do, and that was why he kept coming back.

He’d met April in the Devoa Casino. She was a Black Jack dealer. She had lofty goals of one day landing herself a rich husband, so she didn’t ever have to work again. Which was probably why she slept with anyone that could afford to make a bet over a grand. Though Justin knew she was hoping he’d one day say he loved her and offered her a ring Justin was a wee bit more discerning with his choice of girlfriends. He had ridiculous standards. Sure, he’d f**k anything, but he’d only date the best, and so far, that was no one. He’d never had a serious girlfriend. Well, he had one that came close, but they had only dated for a month before she caught him in bed with her sister or was it her mother? He couldn’t remember.

Justin loved women; he particularly liked the busty breathy blonds. He had a weakness for women that looked a certain way. He didn’t care about substance. And perhaps most unusual he liked older women. Even April was older than him by at least two or three years. He’d lost his virginity at thirteen to a seventeen-year-old girl his brother had scorned. Justin had been there to pick up the pieces as she came out of the house. He enjoyed being the rebound guy very much. Broken women were always so much more willing. And they were grateful for the attention.

He’d say some meaningless flowery things, and they would melt into his arms, and he knew he could have anything he wanted. Justin could smell desperation. It was like a sixth sense. He could spot needy, and from time to time he’d been known for ruining a few happy unions. When he was twenty-one, he’d sat in a bar in France chatting up this woman at the bar who claimed to be happily engaged. She’d shown off the diamond on her hand, and Justin took one look at it and laughed. He’d told her it was fake and within the hour he had her back in his hotel room doing things that could make a sailor blush.

Perhaps he was cruel. Perhaps he was selfish. Perhaps he was spoiled the baby of a five Justin had always been handed everything. He was a third-generation rich kid with a substantial trust fund. While he dedicated himself to his work, he liked to party. He was a journalist, travelling everywhere writing the hard-hitting stories people loved to read, and he was successful. He was the highest paid freelance journalist in North America. Papers and magazines paid big buck to feature his stories. It wasn’t that he needed the money, but if he was going to make money, he might as well make a lot.

After all, he had big shadows to remove himself from. His father was a retired rock star. His mother owned a ballet company in New York. His brother Lance was a famous fashion photographer, Lucas was a well-known daredevil, Dominic was a world-renowned artist, and Brandon was a highly sought-after criminal defence lawyer in New York. There was such pressure to succeed the weight of it could crush someone less self-assured. But Justin was a Sanchez and Sanchez's always succeeded at everything they put their minds too.

One day he would settle down, but at twenty-three he was in no rush. He was having fun whoring his way around the world. Like his father and brother’s Justin was considered quite the catch, and he was a target for gold-diggers only they never got anything out of him because he never locked down with anyone. He was tall and fit, he had his father’s dark Latin looks, with the ebony hair and his mother’s silver-blue eyes and perfect porcelain skin. He might have been the baby, but he was nearly six four and solid muscle. He was clean-shaven, well dressed, and suave. He’d been blessed with good looks, charm, and wealth. Ladies loved him, and he loved the ladies.

Justin pulled on his jeans, and then his deep purple button-up shirt leaving the tails untucked. “Why don’t you stay awhile?” April suggested rubbing the empty spot on the bed.

Justin turned up his nose. “Why the hell would I do that?” He’d already gotten what he wanted. He had no reason to stay.

“We could order in and fool around some more.” She offered with a come get me look.

Justin just laughed as he stepped into his shoes and picked up his leather jacket. “No thanks. I’m going clubbing with the guys.”

“You know if you keep up with this hit and run bullshit I’m going to start taking offence.”

Justin just smiled. “Like you’d ever turn me away.” He said sweetly. “That’s why I come to see you; you’re easy.” He said heading for the door. “We got a good thing going. Don’t ruin it.” And with that, he was gone. He’d rushed down to his car waiting on the street. A silver Bugatti Veyron 16.4 Grand Sport. It was a 1.5-million-dollar sports car that was Justin’s pride and joy. He’d gotten for his graduation as a gift from his parents. All the boy got some car when they graduated high school and when Brandon graduated from Harvard with honours their parents gave him a penthouse with a Central Park view.

Justin thought about going to school but what was the point. He was already doing better than most people that did go to school. The school would have just slowed him down, and Justin enjoyed the fast life.

Getting in his car, Justin headed for the Spirits nightclub on the strip where he was going to meet up with his buddies. Along the way, he’d made some connections in the writer’s world. He befriended people all over the world. People just seemed to like him. Here in Las Vegas he usually hung out with three guys. Journalist themselves. They were all older than him, but that didn’t bother Justin. He was still far more successful than they were and they loved to drop his name when applying for jobs. Mason Budd had a column in a local paper. Kerk Tarr wrote for a well-known magazine. And Fred Powel had a popular blog site.

Justin was running late when he pulled up to the club. He allowed the valet to park his car, and then he located his buddies at the back of the line. They said hello and traded some witty insults then made their way to the door bypassing the line of waiting people. Justin didn’t wait. He was too important to wait, and those who went out with him were fast-tracked to the front of the line.

They were walking past all the suckers standing in line when something brought Justin to a halt. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to see a gorgeous blond in a red cocktail dress. He was struck, she was stunning, and his target for the night. So, he decided to introduce himself.