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After ensuring Domenic is still making his rounds in the casino, I slip out of the security room to the parking garage and the employee level where I'm parked.
I didn't like parking in here, given my last experience in a parking garage with my femur snapped cleanly in half, but if I had resisted Domenic on this, he might've pressed me on it. This was the lesser of two evils.
I drive out of the parking garage and out into the Las Vegas traffic. I don't have enough time to go somewhere far, and I'm still watching my budget like a hawk to make sure I'm paying the countless bills my mother is swamped with from my father's past gambling addiction, so I'm not planning on going anywhere fancy.
Just away from here and the dark-eyed, smooth-talking, enigmatic Caputo that I really need to stop having dirty thoughts about.
I ended up eating at a small Chinese food place ten minutes away from The Golden Flame Casino. It's a small splurge to treat myself to this, and I decide I'll swing by later again to bring something home for my mom since she's been an absolute saint watching Evie all day, every day that I've been working.
Which just makes my chest ache. I want to have more time with my sweet little nonverbal angel. I miss her shy smiles and how she falls asleep for naptime sucking on two fingers.
I'm so distracted thinking about wanting more time with my daughter as I walk back to my car that I'm not as alert as usual. It immediately bites me in the ass when a hand clasps tightly around my throat, and I'm shoved hard into the side of a semi-truck parked two parking rows over from my car.
Immediately, I scramble for purchase, trying to use all the self-defense I know to break away from my attacker. But then I see the face of the beefy guy cutting off my airway, and I go still in fear.
It's Roulette.
That's not his real name. They called him that because he's a massive Russian man who speaks little English—or at least he didn't back when I knew him, over three years ago, as a part of the Wild Seven. And standing beside him is Jack, with his too-bright smile and perfectly coifed hair. Jack is a hacker like me, also part of the Wild Seven.
Shit. They've found me.
They both laugh at the fear that must be clear on my face, but I stop struggling so much because I know they'll only find it more amusing. I go still and pray that Roulette won't choke the air out of me completely. My lungs are burning, and tears prick my eyes, but it's all made so much worse when another voice murmurs, "That should be enough."
Ace.
He hasn't shown his face in Vegas for years. Not since he kicked me out of the Wild Seven. His absence in the area has been evidenced by the increase of amateurs—they wouldn't dare raise so many flags in the same city where he's working otherwise.
Fear claws at me. He's back, and he's found me. This is so fucking bad.
Roulette releases his hold on my throat but slams me back against the semi-truck again, making my head ring. I choke and gasp for breath, trying not to cower but also trying not to look at Ace directly. Jack bares his teeth at me.
"Long time no see, lucky little Loren. Ace's been wondering what happened to you. You're not out there spilling our secrets, are you? If you are, Roulette gets to choke you to his heart's desire—kinky thing, isn't he?"
Roulette chuckles, but one look from Ace shuts him up. One look from Ace would shutanyoneup. I try not to flinch as he steps closer to me. He's dressed sleek, like usual, and if I was a regular citizen with no idea of what he's capable of, he would almost come across as non-threatening.
Almost, except he has that smile. That creepy, slim, talk-wrong-to-me-and-I'll-destroy-you smile.
"Well?"
"Well, what?" I manage.
My voice is ragged and hoarse, my throat still burning. I wipe my nose on the back of my hand and still try not to look pathetic. I'm not sure it's working.
"Jack asked a question. You know what we do to snitches."
I know it too well. When I'd first joined the Wild Seven, he made me watch as they punished a recent ex-member for opening their big, fat mouth. I'd seen some violence before, working as a hacker from state to state a the time, but that? I shiver. So much blood.
That was the first time I saw internal organs up close, and I'd waited until I got home to throw up and try to forget I saw any of it.
I'm sure I'm pale as fucking paper right now, but I manage to shake my head and croak, "Why the hell would I snitch? I can't have them knowing what I do, either. I haven't breathed a word about any of you to anyone. You guys know I'm not like that."
Ace moves closer, and my stomach clenches with nausea when he reaches out and caresses my neck. As if he's trying to soothe the ache there with his clammy, skinny fingertips. He rubs my clavicle and hums while I force myself not to shudder or shy away.
"It's good you're not like that," he croons. "Hard to believe it's been three years, but then you always were so hard to pin down. I'd have liked to pin you down sooner, Loren. You always were on the beautiful side for all your trouble."
He's insinuating a lot with his quiet whisper, making me want to bolt. Getting hit on by Ace is fucking unnerving. It's not the first time it's happened, but I saw how he treated his women back when I ran with the group and stayed the hell away from that situation.
I glance at my car. It's parked closer to the road, where passing traffic would have a clear view of me and where they wouldn't actually dare hurt me in the general public's view. Right now, the semi-truck they have me backed against is blocking me from view, keeping me in danger, but if I could just slip out to where I can be seen.
