Page 1 of The Killer Card

2 Years Ago

Chapter One

Graham

Fun fact about me:

I have been arrested exactly seven times- well, eight I guess after tonight- and each time is no less humiliating than the last. Tonight is no exception. In fact, I think it might be the worst one yet.

I’m so fucking lucky to have Eli. If I didn’t have him…

Well, I’d actually have been dead a few decades now. But he’s always there for me, ready with a charming smile, a quick word, and five-thousand-dollar checks…

The drive back to the hotel is excruciating. The silence is deafening. The rage emanating off my two closest friends- my only friends- shattering body, heart, and soul.

I used to wonder where the line was- you know, the invisible you’ve fucked up for the last time line. Over twenty years that fucker has evaded me, but this… This might have been it. There’s a glimmer of that line every time I blink. Funny enough, it’s the color of Rowan’s suit, the one he wore to Clara’s performance, and his proposal, and their subsequent wedding. That I missed. Because I’m a fucking asshole.

“Was there an Elvis?”

“Qué?!” Rowan snaps.

“You know, an Elvis? They do Elvis weddings here—” Rowan turns to glare at me in the back seat. I sink back, shoulders hunching beneath my shirt. I undid the top buttons and the tie while I sat in the cell, but it still feels too tight when I yank at the collar. “Nevermind…”

He turns back to the road, and the driver earns his five stars by ignoring all of us.

Glancing at Elias, I clasp my hands between my knees to keep them still. “Gracias, Eli. For coming to get me. For paying.”

Again.

Elias releases a breath. “Don’t worry about it.”

I’m used to it.

Neither of us have to say the words, but they sit between us like a loaded gun, waiting to see who will be brave enough to break the tension first. But I’ve played enough roulette to know when to opt out or when to pull the trigger. Tonight, I’m opting out, and even though Elias keeps throwing me pitiful looks, I know he isn’t going to reach out either.

At least not yet.

We ride the rest of the way in silence. When the car pulls up to the Bellagio, I thank the driver alongside my friends, grabbing my jacket on the way out. The doorman greets Elias on his way inside, as does the manager and several other members of staff. Rowan’s presence keeps any fans lingering in the lobby from coming our way. The look on his face is anything but welcoming, but it doesn’t stop the flash of several cameras. I trail behind them, shoving a hand in my pocket, keeping my head down. This isn’t the first time I’ve been photographed with Elias, nor is it the first time they’ve caught me clearly disheveled.

At least this time I’m sober?

Bonus points.

With the help of the hotel’s security, Rowan manages to get us all into the elevator with little issue. Because of the occasion, Elias made sure to get us all the best suites. Except, while he has Poppy to share his bed, and Rowan of course has Clara, I got a private room. So did Naomi, but I’ve been trying not to think about that little factoid. Or that her room is right next to mine. Or that I heard her moaning in her shower last night.

The elevator opens and rather than either of them heading toward their own rooms, they both follow me. As I’m unlocking the door I catch both of them texting out of the corner of my eye. A fresh wave of guilt washes over me, nauseating in its ferocity.

“It’s your wedding night,” I remind Rowan in Spanish, cracking the door once it unlocks. “You should go be with your wife.”

“Yeah, I should.” Taller and stronger than me to cowering degrees, Rowan shoves the door open with a hand above my head, making room for Elias and me to enter. “Inside, pendejo.”

I- the pendejo- go inside without another word. Rowan closes and locks the door while Elias goes straight for the mini bar- he’s paying for it anyway- pouring himself a double tequila on the rocks and a scotch for Rowan. Surprisingly, he also pours a drink for me. Vodka, lime, neat, but I don’t reach for it immediately.

Pointing a thumb over my shoulder I ask, “Can I least take a shower first?”

Elias opens his mouth, but Rowan beats him to the punch. “You can splash water on your face and change your shirt.”

I glance down at my collar where a few drops of blood have dried. Unfortunately, I think it’s my own. I didn’t get nearly enough punches in, and my nose feels broken which is awesome.