by Kelsie Rae
A smile tugs at the corner of my lips before my face pulses in pain, reminding me that I’m definitely not here by choice. “Sin’s rules are pretty shitty, but their dealers are sloppy, and their pit boss is pretty oblivious.”
“And what about Burlone?” he presses.
“Excuse me?” The name alone is enough to make my palms sweat.
“Well, with your history….”
My tone is defensive when I ask, “What do you mean my history?”
“Lie. You know what I’m talking about, and I need you to answer the question right now. What do you think about Burlone?”
Running my fingers through my long, dark hair, I tug at the roots before tucking the strands behind my ears. “It’s not your turn.”
“Answer the question, Ace.”
“But it’s not your turn,” I repeat.
“Answer the fucking question,” he growls with an icy cold stare.
Digging my teeth into my lower lip, I search for a way out of this. Out of this situation. Out of this room. Out of this whole freaking conversation. Everything.
“Now!” His tone is sharp, making me jump.
It’s just enough to snap me out of my panic attack. I tell him the truth, spewing my disdain like word vomit across the basement floor. “I hate Burlone with every fiber of my being, and I would do anything to see him buried in the ground.”
The silence hangs heavy in the room, and I just pray to whoever might be listening that Kingston isn’t friendly with Burlone. Because if he is, I might’ve just dug my own grave by admitting my hatred for the man who ruined my life.
“Truth.” The word is nothing but a whisper as it leaves Kingston’s mouth before he divulges a piece of honesty I haven’t asked for. “Burlone is trying to frame my family for something. All I need you to do is frequent Sin for the next few days and see if you hear anything.”
“Hear anything? Like what?” My chin dips to the toe of my shoe as I drag it against the linoleum floor and wait for him to answer.
“I need a time. A day. I know the what and where. I’m looking for the when.”
The conversation I overheard a few nights ago buzzes in the back of my mind, tugging at my memory. Looking up at Kingston, I ask, “And what if I already know it?”
He locks down any expression from his face, leaving it nothing but a clean slate. “And how would you already know it?”
“I was there the other night. I overheard him talking to two men.” I close my eyes and try to remember what they looked like. “One had a small diamond tattoo on the side of his face. He had long, greasy hair that he slicked back, and his teeth were stained yellow. The other one was cleaner cut with a giant X tattooed on his forearm. I might even call the guy good-looking if I didn’t know who he was acquainted with.” Opening my eyes, I find Kingston’s attention glued to me. I clear my throat and continue describing Burlone’s guy. “He seemed smarter than the others. He kept looking around the room, practically begging them to shut up until they got somewhere private.”
“What were they talking about?” Kingston probes.
“Burlone mentioned something about a tournament and having a solid alibi. It sounded like something was going down that night, and he’d be safe from the repercussions of whatever it was because he’d be at the casino with a ton of witnesses.”
Kingston’s expression remains indifferent, though I know I’ve just given him whatever he’s looking for.
“Am I free to go?”
With a shake of his head, my feet remain glued to their spot on the concrete floor.
“Did they see you listening?”
I shrug before looking around the room and searching my memory. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
His expression is blank as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a business card. “I need you to memorize this number then throw it away. If you hear anything else, call me.”
I take the piece of paper and attempt to focus on the jumbled numbers.
“That’s it?” I ask, feeling confused. I’m missing something, but I can’t quite put my finger on what it is. Something about the way he asked did they see you listening, irks me. What if they did see me listening? Am I in trouble? Should I even be here? It’s obvious I stepped into something that I shouldn’t have, but am I going to be okay?
“Ace.” My head snaps up at the sound of his thick voice. “I’ll be in touch.”
He goes to take a step toward the door, but I interrupt his departure, feeling the unfamiliar need to keep him close.
“Wait!” I call out, shocking the hell out of both of us.
He glances over his shoulder. “Yeah?”
“What did I step into?”
Scrubbing his hand over his face, he releases a heavy sigh that tells me more than any words he could possibly say right now. “Something an innocent girl like you should know nothing about.”
“That’s not an answer.” I fight the panic that threatens to spill over.
With a forced smile, he murmurs, “My game. My rules.”
I drop my eyes back to my feet as I hear his footsteps echo in the tiny box of a room as he retreats.
After a few minutes of silence, I’m convinced that he really did leave me down here by myself, and I must be free to go. The hallway is just as empty as it was before, and I can’t help but wonder what’s on the other side of the doors lining the walls. Is Kingston in there? Is he watching me? The thought brings a shot of anticipation with it, though I refuse to address why.
Exiting the elevator onto the casino floor, I feel like I’m in a daze. My ears are buzzing, my vision is foggy, and my breathing feels out of sync.
What the hell just happened?
I came in here to play a few hands of blackjack and walk away with a few more dollars than I came with, but instead, I’m leaving with my world turned upside down.
Mechanically, I turn toward the blackjack tables. I need to grab my things and cash out my chips. When I see the gorilla of a pit boss hovering in the vicinity, I resist the urge to run in the other direction. Instead, I force one foot in front of the other until I see him holding my stuff.
“Miss. I believe these belong to you.”
Looking contrite, the pit boss gives me my worn backpack along with a fat stack of chips. His hands are jittery as he pulls away before taking a large step backward, giving me a wide berth.
With furrowed brows, I add up the total of my chips. My eyes nearly pop out of their sockets when I find the total. There’s got to be almost ten thousand dollars worth of chips right here.
Is this a trick?
“Umm…I think—”
“Miss,” he interrupts with a quick look to the camera hidden on the ceiling then rocks back and forth on his feet like a recently disciplined toddler. “I’d like to apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused. I-if you need anything, p-please let me know.”
What the hell?
I glance over my shoulder and look up at the ceiling camera the pit boss had been fascinated with from only a moment ago before shaking off the feeling of being watched.
Turning back to the asshole who hit me earlier, I notice he’s acting like a skittish little squirrel instead of the brooding giant gorilla from an hour ago. Hell, I’m pretty sure if I took a step toward him, he’d flinch.
“Don’t worry about it,” I mumble under my breath. I don’t have time for this. I need to get out of here. Giving him my back, I rush toward the information desk and cash out my chips. Once I’m handed the money, I tuck the bills into my backpack then race to the door like a bat out of hell. I’ve almost escaped the smoky haze, and I’m seconds from breathing fresh air when a hand comes out of nowhere and grabs my forearm. The foreign touch scares the shit out of me, making me simultaneously jump and squeal at once.
Rule #2: Always be aware of your surroundings.
Dammit, I’m screwing up left and right tonight.
Instead of paying attention, I was in la-la land analyzi
ng the last hour of my life, how the hell I just got handed almost ten thousand dollars, and if it’s a test of some sort that I’m miserably failing.
My heart is pounding frantically as my fingers dig into the straps of my backpack, hanging on for dear life as my head snaps in the direction of the culprit.
“What the fu—” I take a step back in shock. “Jack?”
“Yeah, are you okay? What the hell happened to your face?” He lifts his other hand that isn’t touching my forearm and brushes his long fingers against my swollen cheek.
Though it’s futile, I untuck my hair behind my ear in an attempt to hide the damage. “It’s nothing. What are you doing here?”
With his gaze glued to my partially hidden wound, a frustrated Jack clenches his jaw before gritting out, “I think we both know that you and I have a common fascination with numbers and like to visit casinos to cash in on it. Now, what the hell happened to your face? Who touched you?”
“No one touched me,” I lie.
He scoffs. “Sure, they didn’t. Did you run into a door?” His voice is dripping with sarcasm as he looks closer and adds, “And was the door wearing a ring?”
My lips form a narrow line, but I don’t bother arguing.
With a sigh, he slumps forward and looks me straight in the eye. “Listen, despite what you think, I feel a sense of camaraderie with you, and I just want to know if you’re okay. Can I help with anything? How’d you get caught?” As he peppers me with questions, I make a point to enforce Rule #1, glancing over my shoulder for any mysterious spectators witnessing this conversation.
You don’t talk about counting. Especially not in the middle of a damn casino. Rule #8, remember? Don’t discuss private shit in public. It’s bound to screw you over.
When I see Kingston watching me from the shadows, my breath hitches. He looks pissed. Looking down, I notice Jack is still touching me, and I slowly twist out of his grasp. I can’t explain my actions, but I know it’s the right decision regardless.
“I’m fine, but I gotta go.” I sneak another glance at Kingston, who appears to be made of stone. His eyes are a green inferno, pinning me in place. His muscles hidden beneath his tailored suit are coiled and ready for confrontation. And his fists are clenched at his sides in anger. If I hadn’t been analyzing him so closely for the last hour, I probably wouldn’t notice how upset he looks in this moment, though it’s obvious to me now. Or maybe he wants me to see his disapproval. Regardless, I add, “If I were you, I’d find a different casino to play at for a little while. Bye, Jack.”
And with that, I rush toward the parking lot to make my escape.
Chapter Nine
Kingston
“Reggie,” I call to one of my soldiers as he sits with a bag of Cheetos in his lap while watching reality television on a laptop in the security room. The walls are lined with monitors that display different views of the casino along with a few choice rooms in the basement. One of which is the room I just left Ace in. I watch in fascination as Ace tucks a strand of her long, dark hair behind her ear before looking around the empty room. The disbelief painted on her face tells me how surprised she is that I’m letting her go. Rubbing her hands along her bare arms, she takes a few cautious steps to the door before peeking down the hallway to find it empty. Like a little mouse, she scurries to the elevator and presses the up button.
The sound of Reggie munching another Cheeto snaps me out of my reverie, and I turn to him.
“Acely Mezzerich.”
“What about her?” he asks, looking at the screens to see her talking with the pit boss who hit her once she’s back on the main floor. My hands clench into fists as I remember the swelling along her delicate cheekbone. He’ll pay for that. The Romano family doesn’t hit women. We’re taught to treat them with respect, and apparently, he needs another reminder. I see him hand her a fat stack of chips, and my mouth lifts in approval. The asshat knows he screwed up and is rectifying it the only way he knows how. If only it were enough to get back into my good graces.
I catch Reggie assessing me curiously and tell him, “I need you to follow her. There’s a possibility she’s being watched and doesn’t even know it. We need to keep her safe until she’s served her purpose.”
“And after that?”
My throat tightens. “We’ll see.”
Chapter Ten
Dex
“Why you worried, man? Stop being a pussy,” Sei mutters while balancing an unlit cigarette between his lips. Reaching for his lighter, he brings it to his mouth and lights the end.
The warm glow reflects off his face and makes Sei look even more sinister than usual.
“I’m not worried,” I argue. “I just want to make sure we have everything in order. With the Feds sniffing around, we can’t afford to make any mistakes.”
He blows the acrid smoke from his mouth as he gets ready to give me the usual talk. The one where he says I have a stick up my ass, and I need to let loose every once in a while. The one that grinds on my gears. “Naw. I think you’re full of shit. How do we even know the Feds are sniffing around anyway? We haven’t seen ‘em. Ever since Burlone took us under his wing when we were kids, you’ve always been the one with a stick up your ass.”
Aaand there it is.
I don’t bother to respond. It’s the same shit, different day.
“What? Nothing to say, Dex? Cat got your tongue?” He squeals in laughter like he’s a fucking comedian.
Keeping my mouth shut, I lean back in my chair and wait for our boss to finally show up. We’ve been sitting in Burlone’s office for almost an hour, ready for him to give us our orders for the night. But he better hurry up because I’m ten seconds away from strangling Sei.
Again…same shit, different day.
“So, you gonna take the new shipment in for a test drive before we hand it over? I mean, Burlone says we’re gonna have to lie low for a while after. This might be your last chance to finally lose your virginity.” He smirks widely, showcasing his stained teeth.
It’s these types of conversations that make me feel like the star in Groundhog Day, living the same shitty existence over and over again. By some miracle, I ignore him, choosing to stare at the back wall instead, but he keeps pushing. “Dude. For real, though. How come you never have any fun? We’re fucking untouchable, man.” I watch as he raises his arms from his sides to emphasize his point.
“We’re not untouchable. If we were, we wouldn’t be using the Romanos as a scapegoat.”
“Aw, come on. We’re not using them as a scapegoat. We’re just putting them in their place. That’s all.”
I release a sigh of frustration, feeling like I want to pound my head against a brick wall in lieu of continuing this conversation. Both options will do about the same amount of good.
Thankfully, Burlone storms into his office, saving me from further explanation.
“Sei. I need you to pick up two more apples by the end of the week. I don’t care what they look like, just get them to the drop off point by Thursday.”
Apples are a code name for any common girl off the street. Grapes mean someone younger; watermelons mean a woman with curves. Passion fruit means that they need to be attractive. You’d be surprised how rarely Burlone orders passion fruit. He’s more of a quantity versus quality kind of guy.
“Why do we need more apples? I thought we already had some for delivery?” I don’t know why I ask. It isn’t any of my business. I don’t deal with the women, but curiosity gets the best of me.
With a wicked grin, he answers, “One was overripe, and the other’s already been purchased and transported.”
Overripe means he’s already tasted the goods and either kept her for himself or killed her already.
The thought makes my stomach roll. For a guy who raised me since I was ten, I don’t have a whole lot of respect for him.
Leaning against his desk, he addresses me. “Dex, I need you to go for a collection run.”
A collection run. Tha
t I can do. “Okay.”
“Did you get the plates registered for the Romanos?” he continues.
“Yeah. It’ll be on the truck for the delivery.”
Burlone turns to Sei who’s busy lighting another cigarette. “Sei, did you contact the buyer?”
“The one who fucked us over on payment last time? Yeah. He’ll be there. He was a giddy little school girl when I told him we’d still do business.” Feeling pleased with himself, Sei puts his hands behind his head and props his feet on Burlone’s desk.
Seconds later, Burlone slaps his hands against them. “Get your fucking boots off my desk, Sei.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good,” Burlone grumbles before addressing me. “Dex, did you find a good little soldier willing to drive the truck?” I try to ignore his condescending tone. After all, the guy is taking a bullet for us. Even if we are paying out the ass to keep him quiet.
Clearing my throat, I sit a little straighter in my seat and reply, “Yeah. Marty is drowning in debt. If we pay it off and give his wife and kid a little cash every month, then he’ll tell the Feds he was working for the Romanos.”
With his beady little eyes shining at me, Burlone grins. “Perfect.”
“When are you going to announce the tournament?” I ask, crossing each mental note off as we discuss it.
“Already did while you sons of bitches were sitting in my office.”
“So we’re good?” Sei coughs, the smoke from his cigarette going down the wrong pipe.
“Yeah.” Unbuttoning his suit jacket, a satisfied Burlone takes a seat behind his desk and starts flipping through various shipment documents scattered along the top of it. “We’re good. Now, get out of here. I need to get some work done.”
Chapter Eleven
Kingston
“Hey, asshole!” my sister shouts, storming into my office.