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“Oh.” He smooths out his tie. “Good for you.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“This is a useless conversation.” I straighten my tie. The last thing I’m gonna discuss is the shit rolling around in my chest. “Are all the VIP’s taken care of?”
“Yeah. Councilman Reynolds asked for an increase on his credit line, and I gave it to him.”
“That was the right choice since he oversees the city’s commercial water allocation.”
“He reminded me of that when he made the request.”
“Ballsy move.” I study the players filling the table. “If he asks for another increase, tell him he has to speak with me.”
“You want to impress upon him how we feel about people who can’t play responsibly?”
“Absolutely, because I don’t want to be the one to collect when he gets in too deep and can’t pay us back.”
“Got it.”
We climb the stairs and stand at the doorway of one of the high-stakes rooms. I study the players filling the tables – Wall Street hotshots, tech geniuses, and a washed-up rockstar occupy the table near us. If Abby was playing, she would give them an education in humilityandtake them for every last chip they flip through their sweaty hands.
Not that she’ll be around to serve up those lessons since she made it clear she won’t be talked out of Vegas.
A place I’ve never stepped foot in. It’s ruled by the Camorra, and given that the last cease-fire ended in a blood bath, Nevada will never be in my travel plans.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out, praying Abby has changed her mind about staying in town. I see a text from my brother instead. “Fuck.”
“What is it?” Nico asks, tearing his eyes away from the tables.
“Franco needs me on a thing.” I flip him the keys to my office. “I may not be back tonight.”
“I got it handled.”
“Call if something happens.” I stride away, wondering what the cryptic message means. If I’m lucky, it’s about Vargas and shutting him up for good.
***
The dimly lit warehouse we are standing in is filled with enough crates to make a hoarder break into applause. “The cartels are shitty businessmen.”
“And not just because they welcome anyone who applies,” Franco replies quietly.
I study the man in the chair. “This guy has intel on the Cartels?”
“Sure does,” A deep voice replies.
I recognize Maxsim’s lightly accented voice. Why the hell is the second in command of the Volkov Syndicate making a guest appearance? “Did you put this party together?”
“I heard you were hunting for Vargas.” Maxsim tips his chin toward the man, who looks like a rat cornered by three ravenous cats. “This one is gonna give you everything you need.”
“Perhaps this alliance will finally net something other than dead bodies to dispose of,” Franco bites out.
“The Don riled up the Cartels. We just showed them what happens when they step foot in our territory and play shoot ‘em up in the streets.”
I clear my throat before my brother and Maxsim begin their favorite argument about who started what. “Why is this guy gonna give up Vargas?”
“Because he’s heard what a sick bastard I am.” Maxsim straightens the pristine cuff on his shirt. “Our avtoriteti picked up chatter that Rodrigo has a hard-on for your card girl, and…Ari.”
