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Ignoring the three pairs of eyes on my neck, I slip my hands in my pockets and rest my head against the glass.
Lucky Cat. Bastards. Out of the forty-eight casinos I own, they had to hit the one that started it all. Ten years ago, it was barely a box with four borrowed roulette wheels, and I couldn’t get customers through that door even if I begged. I paid my staff with the bills fed into the slot machine in the corner. It was a dive, but I loved it—still do. It was the only one of my casinos my mama got to step foot in. She was used to the life of luxury but damn, did she sit at that bar in her Sunday best and sip her lemon drop martini like she was at the Ritz.
Emotion curls its hand around my throat and I flex against it. My breath misting against the glass is the last thing I see before I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Gabe.”
Heavy footsteps lead out of my office.
When I turn around, two pairs of eyes touch me, both conveying different expressions. Griffin’s gaze burns with fury while Angelo’s is tinged with thinly-veiled amusement.
I stroll back to my desk. Rest my knuckles against it. “Griff?”
He glares at me in response.
I nod to the pair of legs in the hall. “Chuck him overboard before he wakes up.”
My brother cocks a brow but doesn’t say anything. Griffin’s shock disappears behind the faceted wall of crystal as I slam my whiskey in one. Its contents carve a hot trail down my throat and stoke the flames in my chest. When it clatters against the desk, Griffin’s gone and Angelo is holding a photo frame of our mother.
His eyes soften at the corners. Without looking up, he muses, “If mama was here, she’d say you were having an unlucky streak.”
His words prickle against my skin sharper than he knows. “Yes, and mama was a sucker for bullshit.”
If I ever got my hands dirty and he wasn’t my brother, I’d sweep that smirk off his lips with a swift right hook. Instead, I drop to my armchair and regard him with a mild-mannered stare.
“Anything else? I’ve got shit to do.”
He rubs his chin in thought. “Forty G’s lost last Monday.You’ve lost Miller and Young, and your best bud has disappeared off the face of the planet under suspicious circumstances. Hmm.”
“What?” I snap, growing hot under the insinuation in his tone. Red hair and playing cards flash behind my eyelids.
“I think I’d have to agree with mama on this one.”
You could have all the success in the world, but the Queen of Hearts will bring you to your knees.
In case Penelope is the Queen of Hearts, I probably shouldn’t have let her grind on me.
I scratch my jaw. Shrug. “Shit happens.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Fuck off now, please.”
With a dark chuckle, he rises to his feet and casts a shadow over my desk. “Look on the bright side, brother. It’s your favorite time of the month.”
I frown. “Is it?”
“You shitting me?”
In the beat of silence, the realization hits me. Of course it is. Usually, we choose our Sinners Anonymous candidates on the last Sunday of every month, but that’ll be Christmas Day this year, so we’re doing this Sunday instead.
I can’t believe I forgot. The Sinners Anonymous hotline is my baby, a love letter to the sadist that lives deep within the hollow of my chest. It’s the ultimate game, and just once a month, my brothers and I come together to relive the better parts of our childhood. The simpler times, you know, before our father killed our mother and Angelo killed him in retaliation.
“I’m on it,” I say, smoothing my collar pin. I jerk my chin up when I remember what I had to ask him. “Are you around tomorrow?”
“Depends.”
“I’ve got a meeting with Kelly, and I’d like you to sit in.”
