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That was the problem with Vegas. When you stopped and squinted, when you really looked hard at it, behind all the glint and glamour, you’d see there was a darkness that hovered, ready to snatch you up.
I looked at the man’s back again, but he never turned around. I shook it off and forced my head back on straight.
I gave a nod to the bartender, and he immediately caught my pointed look at Salazar and began to mix his favorite drink. I tipped the bartenders good money to make sure my clients were their priority.
“How much?” I asked the girl in the cage. I knew she’d just spent the night with Dale. I’d overheard him when he bragged to his line chef about how wild she was.
“He’s bet a hundred thousand.” She waved her hand, unimpressed. “His card limit today is two million.”
“Yes, I know.” I tapped my finger on the ledge. “He’s either nervous to play because Yen Hong was here yesterday, or he’s using the table as a way to watch for him.”
“What did Yen do?”
“I’m not entirely sure.” I thought for a second then made a phone call.
“Leo,” I turned to look at the camera where I knew he was watching, he always watched the blackjack tables at this time of day, “I need the Lion Den’s for a client.”
“Salazar?”
“Yes.”
“He’s barely playing.”
“I know. I think it has to do with Yen.”
“The room’s free, what else do you need?”
“I can ask?—”
“I’m here, Kenna. What do you need?” I loved that Leo trusted me enough to help me out in these situations.
“He’s a Lee Fields fan, low orange lighting, don’t fill the table, less is more, or he’ll get spooked, and no Yen Hong.”
“Got it.”
Fifteen minutes later, Salazar was seated at a table of six, his double-shot drink rested on a gold-plated coaster, and a magnitude of playing chips sat in front of him just waiting to be lost to the house.
Normally, I’d sit close to a wall when I wanted to give a special client moral support, but Salazar liked me next to him. I sat slightly back so I could look over his shoulder.
Every player had their own style when they played. Salazar was a risktaker, loved to look like he had the best hand even when he didn’t. It was well known he bluffed constantly so the other players studied everyone else but him. I noted Salazar currently held a flush.
I didn’t care who won; I only cared how much they lost. Though I’d always be there for my client, the hotel was who I rooted for. Whenever I was in the room with a client, it was my job to be their biggest supporter. And how I did that was to make sure everything was to their liking. I’d never once glance at the time, and never once show any emotion when any kind of move was played.
Three and half hours later, the pot was just over six million. It was down to Salazar and one other man named Mr. Pin.
“Call.” Pin tossed his last chip in the pot.
Salazar dropped his cards, and Pin cursed as he tossed his cards in the center.
“Whatever.” Pin pushed to his feet, signed some paperwork, and left the room with a scowl.
I smiled and sat forward now the game had ended. I knew the casino just got a small percentage of that six million. It might not be a ton, but it was good enough for a single game of poker.
“How do you feel?” I put my hand on Salazar’s arm and spoke softly as the players left the room.
“Much better.” He slid a black chip toward me as a tip. “Thanks for making this happen.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” I motioned for one of the guys to clear the chips away.
