Betting On Us (Wilde Love Book 3) Read online

  Betting On Us

  A Wilde Love Novel

  Kelly Collins

  Copyright © 2018 by Kelly Collins

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover design by Michelecatalanocreative.com

  Contents

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  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Thank you for reading.

  A Sneak Peek into Redeeming Ryker

  Acknowledgments

  Do you like bad boys?

  About the Author

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  Chapter One

  As a veterinarian, the routine job of giving vaccinations, trimming nails, and neutering pets could get tedious. I had to keep reminding myself that boring was good. Boring was safe. Boring was unlikely to get me killed.

  I’d never been stabbed, shot, or shanked by my regular clientele. Domestic animals were generally safe, unlike my decidedly non-animal clients who often appeared at the end of my shift.

  I hadn’t had any of those today—yet—but there was still a good twenty minutes in which some bloody, bruised or otherwise damaged person might come in asking to be stitched or cleaned up ‘under the radar’.

  You know, for someone who tried her best to keep out of the mob life, I wasn’t doing a great job. But I could hardly turn any of those men (and occasionally women) away. If they went to a hospital, they’d most likely get arrested or worse. I didn’t want that on my conscience.

  Despite my father, Liam “Lucky” O’Leary, heading up the Irish mob, I helped members of any of the mob factions in Las Vegas if they ventured into the Collins Veterinary Clinic, be they Irish, Russian or Italian. I often had people come in asking for help who weren’t part of the factions. Recently, there had been an influx of Colombians trying to get a foothold in the Vegas underworld, so I’d gained more and more of them as ‘patients’. I tended to a unique melting pot of saints and savages.

  I wanted nobody’s blood on my hands, so despite me not wishing to play any part in the mob life I was born and raised into, I became Las Vegas’ unofficial mob doctor.

  Even I could admit that it sounded pretty badass. That was precisely why I wished I could get out of it—the danger and excitement of it all could be addictive. But it was also a death sentence; all you had to do was get involved with the wrong people or be present on the wrong street at the wrong time, and you were done.

  At least, for me, since I patched up anyone who came into the clinic, I had been granted ‘immunity’—nobody wanted the woman who stitched up their men and prevented them from getting arrested to be harmed. And damn if that didn’t feel good knowing I had that kind of sway within the Vegas mob network.

  Ugh. Again, thoughts such as that were exactly why I had to get away. But I loved Las Vegas; it was my home. To move away and give it up would be tantamount to destroying a part of my soul.

  With one final clip of the scissors, I finished trimming my last patient of the day’s nails—a humongous rabbit named Hulk. Appropriately named considering he was almost half the size of his petite owner. They always made me laugh when they came in.

  I gave the all black rabbit a fond scratch behind his floppy ears. “He’s all done, May. Shall I book Hulk in for another nail trimming in three months’ time?”

  She nodded as she hefted her gentle giant into his crate—which was built for a small dog. “Thanks, Kirsten. That would be great. Hulk will be happy he can scamper about again—and my boyfriend will be happy his nails stop scratching up the wooden floor.”

  It was with a contented sigh that I collapsed onto the window seat in the exam room once May Waters had left. I watched the orange glow of the sun slowly set behind the buildings.

  It was a long day, working two shifts back-to-back because the other junior vet, Rose, had gotten sick—the flu, apparently. I’m fairly certain she was lying; I vaguely recalled catching sight of her calendar on her phone a couple weeks ago and seeing her boyfriend was flying in to visit her over the next few days.

  Not that I could blame her. If I had a boyfriend flying in to see me, I’d pretend to be sick, too. But that train of thought led nowhere good—all it did was make me think of Rafe. Raphael Wilde, the youngest of the three infamous Las Vegas, Italian mob brothers, now working as an in-demand lawyer after graduating from Harvard. We’d known each other for…probably as long as I can remember. And we’d been forbidden from ever acting on our yearning stares and stolen glances for…probably as long as I can remember, too.

  But Katya—my newly discovered half-sister—now belonged just as much to the Irish mob as the Russian mob she was born into. She married Matt, one of Rafe’s older brothers, and had infiltrated the Italian mob as well. If she could be with one of the Wildes, then why couldn’t I?

  I sighed again, this time longingly. It would never happen. Rafe and I had been out of touch ever since I graduated as a vet. We did our best to avoid each other at Alex’s wedding to Faye, and then again at Katya’s wedding to Matt, knowing that seeing each other would end up being painful.

  Had we not attempted to keep our distance, we’d have done something we’d regret. How I wish we could have done something we’d regret.

  But it was common knowledge that Rafe wanted no part of his family’s mob life, and he was doing one hell of a good job avoiding it. Unlike me. I wouldn’t be surprised if he jumped on a flight out of Vegas and moved to New York any moment now, never to be seen or heard from again.

  I had to forget about him, but I had been trying to forget about him ever since I was old enough to identify what the butterflies in my stomach meant when I saw him—and I’d failed, failed, failed.

  Was I doomed to pine after a man I couldn’t have, trying to find solace in short-lived boyfriends who simply couldn’t match Rafe? It was that, or my mob family scared them off. With two intimidating brothers and a father who looked like he could gut a person without breaking a sweat, it was probably both, to be honest.

  “Kirst, are you done in here?” Dean Collins, owner and senior vet of the clinic asked as he rapped on the door.

  “You know I hate you calling me that, Dean,” I replied, sighing a little as I moved from my window seat and walked to the door. “And yes, I’m done. Finally.”

  Dean grinned; his sandy blond hair, pale blue eyes, and flawless skin belied the fact that he was just a couple years shy of forty.

  If I look as good as that when I’m thirty-eight, then I’ll be one thrilled woman, I thought, returning Dean’s grin with a tired smile.

  “You sure you’re done? No scary gangsters in to get their arm stitched up today?”

  Now, here was a man who was unfazed about my mob background. If anything, he liked it. It meant his precious
clinic was protected—and the fact that my non-animal clients brought in extra money. Or, at least, they paid for what they used.

  I shook my head no. “Doesn’t seem like there will be any today, thank Go—”

  That’s when the front doorbell rang, signaling a new customer. I stifled a groan.

  “I can send them away if you don’t feel up for it, Kirsten,” Dean said, frowning slightly in concern as he placed a hand up to my forehead. “You look as if you need to sleep for about three days, and it feels like you might be coming down with a fever.”

  I gently brushed Dean’s hand away as I made my way around him towards the reception. “It’s better to deal with whoever it is now than risk what’ll happen to them if I don’t. And if I have a fever, you can blame Rose.”

  Maybe she was actually sick, I thought. Sucks to be her if her boyfriend’s visiting and she’s chucking up in the toilet or shivering with a fever in bed.

  “Your funeral,” I barely heard Dean comment as I reached the reception desk. The person standing there was indeed a member of the mob, but not the person I expected.

  It was Katya.

  She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she smiled at me awkwardly.

  “Hey, Kirsten. I just found out you worked here, and…” she lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I figured I’d stop by and say hi.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dean watching the two of us curiously, so I ushered him over.

  “Katya, this is my boss Dean. Dean, this is my…half-sister, Katya,” I said, the words feeling odd on my tongue.

  Dean shook Katya’s hand as he smiled devilishly for her—the guy definitely knew how to wield his looks like a weapon. A sharp deadly weapon that could excise the heart from any woman.

  He turned up the charm a notch. “The illustrious half-sister. Lovely to meet more of Kirsten’s family,” he said, “especially a beautiful woman. I was worrying that all the people Kirsten was surrounded by were big, scary men.”

  Katya laughed. “Well, that comes with the territory, I’m afraid.” She glanced at me. “Are you done for the day? I thought we could get a drink or something—get to know each other a bit more? I’ve never had a sister.”

  Neither had I, although I’d asked for one for Christmas one year. “Oh wow, yes, please,” I replied, practically falling over myself at the thought of alcohol after a long, dull day in the clinic.

  Dean laughed at the comment—even Katya let out a quiet giggle.

  “I’ll leave you ladies to your drinks,” he said. “Don’t worry about the cleanup, Kirsten—I’ll get it done. And feel free to take the morning off since we don’t have many appointments until noon.”

  “And what if I’m really sick?”

  Dean sighed dramatically. “Ahh, with Rose off, then you’ll just have to force the sickness away.”

  “Of course. I knew your concern was purely superficial.”

  He thumped his chest with his hand. “That breaks my heart.”

  I waved dismissively, rolling my eyes at the comment. “Have a good evening.”

  “You too.”

  With the summer on the edge of breaking, the early evening air was balmy, with only the barest hint of a chill on the edge of the breeze that blew by.

  “Do you know any bars nearby?” Katya asked, happily linking arms with me when I offered her mine.

  “I hope that was a rhetorical question,” I scoffed. “I know them all…and not necessarily because they’re good places to drink.”

  I knew most by reputation—and the number of injured brawlers they sent my way. One look at Katya confirmed that she got my meaning.

  “Take me to one good for drinking but bad for fist fights…if there are any.”

  Oh, I definitely liked my new sister. I could tell we would get on like milk and cookies. One was better with the other.

  I ended up taking her to Cole’s—a bar with absolutely no mob ties whatsoever.

  “I’ll have a double vodka and orange,” I told the bartender as soon as we reached the bar.

  Katya laughed. “You weren’t lying when you said you wanted alcohol.” She looked at the bartender. “I’ll have the same.”

  We ended up remaining seated at the bar as we talked—to stay close to the alcohol, I joked—but in reality, once we spoke, we lost track of time so much that we forgot to wrangle a booth.

  “So, how’s Matt? All good between you two?” I asked Katya after my third drink, feeling decidedly more relaxed than I was earlier on.

  Katya blushed. “Fantastic. You know, after being in love with each other for so long, but thinking there was no way we’d ever actually be together, it feels…I don’t know. Surreal. Like I can’t believe my luck.”

  Oh, that stung. I emptied my glass, thinking about Rafe. “I’m glad it could work out for one of us, Katya.”

  “Don’t tell me you have a forbidden love for someone you can’t have, too?” she asked, incredulous but somehow not surprised at all. She followed suit and downed her drink. “There must be something in the water. So who is it?”

  “Who is what?”

  “Who is the guy? Your boss?”

  If I had had any of my drink left in my mouth, I’d have spat it out. “Dean? Oh God, no!”

  “But he’s so charming! And he definitely has a thing for you.”

  “He’s like that with every woman he comes across. It’s his bedside manner. Besides, the guy is twelve years older than me.”

  Katya’s eyes widen. “No way is he nearly forty!”

  “I know, right? The man’s clearly a vampire. Or a wizard.”

  “Maybe he sold his soul to the devil for an evergreen youthful appearance.”

  I snorted in laughter. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Either way, it isn’t him.”

  “Then who is it?”

  I paused, considering whether I should tell Katya. It may well have been that it was only a matter of time before she found out Rafe and I both had a thing for each other from Matt, but…I couldn’t bring myself to talk about him. Not yet. Possibly never.

  I sighed, looking at the time on my phone. Suddenly, I was exhausted. Thinking about Rafe often did that.

  “Nobody important,” I finally told her. “Well, not anymore. I should get going; I feel like I need about fourteen hours of sleep, and I don’t want to spend my precious morning sleeping off a hangover.”

  She smiled at me. “Understandable. Do you…want to do this again?”

  I perked up immediately. “Absolutely! Next time, let’s do it when we both have a day off and can get utterly smashed.”

  “Deal.”

  As I walked back home to the apartment I lived in to stay independent from my father and brothers, I smiled to myself.

  She might have been late in joining the family, but having a sister was awesome.

  Chapter Two

  If this guy didn’t shut up soon, I swore I was going to punch him in the mouth. How anybody could be that pig-headed as to brag about doing something he’d hired me to convince the court he didn’t do was beyond me.

  “For the last time, Mr. Peters, I don’t want to know,” I said, barely concealing my irritation. “It will impact your case if I know.”

  The guy laughed at me. “Okay, okay, Mr. Wilde, but man—if you had been there, I swear you would’ve—”

  “Have a good day, Mr. Peters,” I interrupted, standing up and making it obvious the meeting was over. “I’ll see you on Monday for a follow-up.”

  God, Friday can’t come quickly enough, I thought yearningly as the insufferable man vacated my office, still laughing about what he did. It was only Tuesday.

  I did not sign up to defend the scum of the Earth. Okay, I’m a lawyer. I guess I signed up for it, in a sense. But I swore to myself I wouldn’t deal with men like Mr. Peters. Instead, I’d defend innocent people from him.

  Such a worldview was so naïve that even I didn’t truly believe it, even as a kid. I grew up in the Italian mob, for C
hrist’s sake. How was I ever going to grow up with a positive outlook with hardened criminals around me?

  The answer is, I wasn’t. And yet here I was, still wishing for just one innocent client. The thing was, innocent clients weren’t the kind who could afford the firm I worked for, and, by extension, me. And there was only so much pro bono work McAlister and Associates took on—and that was left to the trainee lawyers. Again, me.

  Which meant Raphael Wilde, aged twenty-eight, who despite only having joined the firm as a junior lawyer recently was on the fast-track to partner, and who subsequently didn’t get the innocent clients. McAlister and Associates thought my skills were better used with people I was familiar with—mobsters.

  Maybe all of this would be easier if I didn’t have to deal with crooked clients in my home life, too. Not that I hadn’t desperately tried to escape the mob life that constantly hounded me because of my pedigree as a Wilde. In actuality, I had been doing quite well at keeping out of it throughout my time at Harvard. So well, in fact, that I thought I had successfully broken away.

  But the last year or so had demonstrated how easy it was for the dark underbelly of Las Vegas to sink its teeth into me.

  I just never thought I’d be helping out the Russian mob. I mean, yeah, it was for Matt’s sake I did it, and his now-wife Katya, but ultimately I was part of a massively fraudulent scheme…that put Sergei Volkov at the very top of the Russian mob. I didn’t even want to know what really happened to Katya’s father, Yuri, the previous head. Because if I knew the answer…