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He can'tknowI was a part of the Wild Seven. He hates them so much, and I don't need him to have another reason to take Evie away from me if he knew about her. But suppose I can get them off the streets and hackers away from his casino without getting into more trouble than I'm already in. In that case, maybe then I could tell him about Evelyn.
"Loren."
I blink up at him, realizing I've been zoned outhard."Hmm?"
Domenic examines me, gently trailing a finger near the new couple of stitches near my hairline by my temple. "You need rest."
"So do you. I know you're about to march back into your casino to troubleshoot everything that just happened, but it's late, and you look drained." I squint at the blood on his shoulder, realizing it's from me. "Shit, the security feed in the parking garage will show everyone what happened. They'll start asking questions and find out about the Wild Seven are after me and—"
"The feed will be wiped. But why are they after you?"
I shut my eyes and sigh as I recline on the couch, suddenly fatigued beyond words at night's events. "They consider Vegas their territory, and they don't like other hackers here. I've just crossed paths with them sometimes, that's all. They're like this to everyone else, too."
It's not a total lie, but it is a stretch. The Wild Seven are terrible to "trespassers" in the territories they claim, but I'm their number one enemy right now for other reasons.
But Domenic can't ever know they think I betrayed them or that I was one of them. Not even after I tell him about Evelyn—if I ever feel like I can without risking losing her.
I should be getting out of here to get home and check on her, but my eyelids weigh tons, and my lightheadedness is transitioning into slowed breathing.
Domenic murmurs in Italian somewhere nearby, something comforting and smooth in his low voice that eases some of the residual worries from my shoulders. I feel the ghost of his lips pressing against my forehead before I slip into a deep sleep.
One week has passed since the unexpected attack at the casino, and I'm getting the weirdest feeling I'm being followed. The thing is… I don't think it's the Wild Seven tailing me.
The Wild Seven is unmistakable. They're threatening. After what went down at The Golden Flame, with Big Luck narrowly missing out on nabbing Chloe and Roulette, I'm on high alert expecting Ace or one of the other members to find me again. After all, they know where I work. Yet no move has been made, and instead, I feel like the eyes on me are a protective measure.
Which makes me think it has something to do with the Caputos. As in, someone on Domenic's side. Is he protecting me after that close call? He has no reason to do that. Aside from our little hookup over a week ago, we've managed to keep our hands off of each other, and I'm not going to kid myself into thinking he cares for me outside of my usefulness as a security asset.
I may have gotten a glimpse of Domenic's gentle side when he stitched up the cut over my temple, but I'm not about to let that make me think he has any inclination to worry over me. For all I know, he has someone keeping an eye on me to try to find and get rid of the Wild Seven now that he knows I'm on their bad side. This could be entirely beneficial for him, and not to try to keep me safe.
But deep down, I do feel a tiny bit safer with the Caputo crime family looking out for me. Simply because Domenic is in charge.
I step out of my apartment and lock the door while flicking a look over my shoulder. Sure enough, that car is parked far down the road. I've seen it now and then over the last week. While its windows are tinted, and it's a fairly basic car, I'm positive that it doesn't belong to the little old lady whose house it's currently parked in front of.
After the attack, I woke up alone in a quiet, peaceful little hotel room connected to The Golden Flame with anything I might need at the bedside—painkillers, water bottles, food. It had been early in the morning, and I'd driven home immediately to get back to Evie, thinking I must be paranoid because I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was tailing me just out of sight.
But once again, just as it's been for the past seven days, as I get into my car and drive to work, I catch glimpses of the car far behind me in traffic. A silent escort to the casino.
It should probably freak me out that a member of the fucking mafia is looking out for me, but since they're at Domenic's beck and call, I find it…reassuring. God knows I might be too shaky to get out in that parking garage every morning if I didn't sense eyes tracking my every move from that car and from the security room.
But today, I don't feel like parking in the parking garage and clocking in early like I usually do. Instead, I circle around to enter through the front of the casino like everyone else, meandering as I absorb the sounds, sights, and unique scent of The Golden Flame.
I can't help it. Today is special in a morbid and painful way.
It's the anniversary of the day my alcoholic, abusive, gambling-addict father killed himself. The day my mother got the call and cried herself sick repeatedly as I held her hair back and tried not to let my world shatter. It's the anniversary of the day I decided to get revenge by using my significant coding and hacking skills to get back at the establishments that ruined my father and family.
Like the Golden Flame. It's odd that I work here when I hated this place so much. Maybe a tiny part of me always will because it represents everything wrong in my childhood.
As I walk past a row of slot machines, I clench my teeth at the sight of that same old man placing his bet and pulling the machine again. He rubs the balding spot on his head and grimaces at whatever comes up. While he still looks put together enough, today, of all days, he just reminds me so much of my father it physically hurts.
I almost want to walk right up to him and tell him to get a grip and leave before his addiction fucks up his entire life. I want to shake him and everyone else in here by the shoulders while I scream that in places like this, the house always wins, and they're a bunch of idiots to entertain themselves by leaving their fortunes up to pure chance.
Today, every person here reminds me of Dad. I see his face in the men playing blackjack, the women laughing by the poker tables, and everyone playing craps.
"Fucking casinoes," I mutter, fingers itching to hack into one of these machines, scam the hell out of this place just like it deserves, and high-tail it out of here.
But I wouldn't do that now. Not with a steady paycheck finally easing some of the crushing financial burdens my father left behind for my mother to shoulder alone. Not when I have Evelyn to think about and when I've been on the other end of these cameras and set up systems for someone exactly like me to get caught doing exactly this.
Old habits really do die hard. I'm still tempted despite everything.
