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Fucccck.
I shove away from the table and yank Vince off the guy whose nose is now gushing blood.
“Sit the fuck down!” I bark at Vince, and he stares menacingly at the bleeding guy, but does as I order.
Extending my left hand, I help the soldier up off the floor. “Thanks?—”
I sucker punch him in the kidneys with my right fist, and he doubles over again with a groan. “Shit stirrers in my crew will be flushed down the drain. You wanna float with the excrement, keep running your mouth,” I warn him.
He holds up his hands in surrender, and I return to my seat at the head of the table, straightening my tie. “Now, where were we?”
Tension lingers in the air as my men go around the room introducing themselves, and I commit the information to memory. We get to the man who’s now using his T-shirt to stem his bleeding nose, courtesy of Vince. “I’m Sal. I’m a bouncer at Sergio’s gambling halls—er, I mean your gambling halls,” he’s quick to correct himself.
“Thank you, Sal. Gentlemen, our gambling halls will continue business as usual. I’d like to get the restaurant opened back up ASAP; if you know anyone who’d be a good fit, have them apply. Does anyone have any questions?”
“I do,” Sal pipes up. “Can somebody tell Vince to fix his fucking eyeball?”
“Man, your eye has gone sideways,” Mike, the guy beside Sal, comments.
I glance over to Vince, whose glass eye is pointed toward the ground even though he’s looking straight ahead. Not gonna lie, it is a bit disturbing.
Vince reaches in his pocket and pulls out an eyepatch, placing it over the wayward eye. “There. Better for your delicate sensibilities, Mike and Sal?” Vince taunts.
Sal snorts. “The only thing delicate is your hands. Soft as a baby’s butt.”
“Is that why your nose is gushing like a stuck pig? My delicate hands?” Vince challenges.
I slam my fist down on the table, and the two men pipe down. “Gentlemen, that will be all. Vince, give me a tour before you leave.”
“Right this way, skipper,” he says, and I follow the family’s bookie down the hall and to a locked door. He scans his hand, and the door opens.
“I need to be added to the security system,” I comment as I follow him inside.
“I’ll get our guy to fix you up ASAP,” he says. “This is the main control room for all gaming operations.” He gestures to desks with monitors before leading me to an inner office. Unlocking the door, he tosses me the key. “Your office.”
Taking in the gilded decor, I announce, “I plan on doing a little redecorating.”
Vince chuckles. “Don’t blame you. It looks like Liberace threw up in here.”
Taking a seat behind the ornate desk, I ask, “Who were the two guys talking shit when I walked in?”
“Mike and Sal,” he tells me.
“Sal, the guy you pummeled?” I give him a stern look, and he shrugs. “Man, you gotta keep a cool head, alright? I don’t wanna come off as playing favorites.”
“I’ll try my best, but if Sal so much as looks at Luna, I’ll put a bullet between his eyes,” Vince promises.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Come on, man. At least let me settle in first.” Before I have to mediate a shit storm.
“The odds are not in Sal’s favor, but I’ll try my best,” he offers, and I guess I’ll take it from the family’s oddsmaker.
“Anyone in this crew have a problem with me being named capo?” I press.
“Not that I know of. I mean, Mike and Sal talk shit all the time.” As I suspected; the weak links.
“Who do I need to speak with about finding a woman from The Diamond bar?” I change the subject.
“You need the casino’s head of security,” he tells me, grabbing his phone from his pocket. “Forwarding you his contact.”
