“There was no you and I in Brooklyn or now, so just forget all about me, Samson, and Club Wicked.”
“You left out Cheryl.” His rubbery lips twist. “Or did you forget I was her boss back then? If it wasn’t for me, she wouldn’t have had a job.”
“Great job, working in that sleazy dump.”
What did Graham say about “unsavory characters”? Sal is the most unsavory of them all. He ran the Pit into the ground and tried to cheat the women who worked for him and anybody else he could get over on. Hard to believe the fucker is still alive.
“I guess you can afford to be high and mighty. Shacking up with Frank’s hot daughter, I guess you can afford anything you want.”
In four steps, I close the distance between us. “What I can or can’t afford is none of your fuckin’ business.” I pull out my money clip and hold it up. “Is this what you want, money?”
“Money won’t help either one of us anymore.”
I glare down at the miserable fuck. “Then get outta here and don’t come near the club or anyone associated with me again. Understand?” I turn and head toward my car.
“Sure, Nick,” Sal shouts at my back. “But you never know how or when things can change.” He snaps his fingers. “Sometimes just like that.”
“I got nothing to worry about, ‘cause I got enough money and power not to worry about fuckers like you anymore.”
“You sure about that? ‘Cause you got enemies coming for you at all angles.”
Again, Graham’s words ring in my ears.
I yank my car door open. “Not gonna work, Sal, ‘cause I’m not interested in any bullshit you’re spitting out just to get some cash outta me.”
“Not even if it keeps you and your precious Cheryl and Portia safe?”
I step away from the car, charge toward him and grab him by the collar of his dingy t-shirt. “You keep their names outta your mouth, or did you forget what I did for Frank back in Brooklyn?”
“I didn’t forget, but we’re not in Brooklyn anymore, and even though you changed your name to Nick Sinclair and are trying to pass yourself off as some classy businessman, I know the truth.”
“You don’t know shit.” I fist his collar tighter with my heart slamming against my ribs.
“I know someone’s trying to take you and this whole club down. I also know you’ll never see it coming. Remember, Nick, it’s not always about money.”
I push him off and warn, “Stay the fuck away from me; stay away from this club and my family.”
I storm back to the car to the sound of Sal’s taunting laugh.
5
NICK
I slam myself into the car, and when I look up, Sal’s gone like some kinda fuckin’ ghost from my past. I twist and turn my high-performance car out of the parking garage. I wheel onto the ramp emptying onto I-15 and stop dead in rush hour traffic. It’s a curse in most major cities, but I-15 in Vegas is its own special brand of hell. Tourists who don’t know where they’re going, cabbies zipping in and out of traffic to pick up the next fare. Me sweating to get to my daughter’s holiday concert while being tortured by Sal’s words.
Sure, the guy is a loser and just spitting bullshit, but bringing Cheryl and Portia into it takes it to the next level. I’ve worked too hard and sacrificed too much to lose it all. Cheryl, Portia and I have ten lost years to make up for, and I have no intentions of letting anyone fuck it up.
Since I’m not going anywhere fast, I hit Samson’s number on speed dial.
It rings a few times then, “What’s up?”
“I had a visitor in the garage from the old neighborhood.”
“Who?”
“Sal.”
“Shit, what the fuck did he want?”
