The percussive bells and chings of the slot machines along the border are as much of a theme song for my nightly routine as the jazz music piped through the speakers. It keeps me alert, just as it’s intended to do for our patrons.
My primary purpose during the walk-through is to be seen. It is a subtle reminder that we’re always present, always ensuring that rules are being followed, which also lends a sense of security to the staff.
While we aren’t fully open to the general public like most casinos are, where employees tolerate ludicrous situations, suchas patrons defecating at a table because they refuse to leave a winning streak—yes, thatshitreally happens atotherplaces—we still have to be mindful that the staff isn’t thrust into an uncomfortable position. Since we entertain those who are known for less than ethical behavior, it’s vital our employees have confidence that their safety comes before any menacing behavior or requests from the members.
Here, the customer is only right when they play by our rules.
Our small public casino does deal with some piddly issues, but we firmly refuse service to those who are challenging in any capacity, and our managers navigate that. Gambling is not our highest revenue stream. Our exclusivity is. The house always wins, but we win bigger with our members.
When I’m nearly at the end of the casino-floor aisleway, I toss my cold brew cup in the trash, and our evening pit boss waves me over.
“Table nineteen—Lucas Windsor—down three hundred grand. Visibly distressed but upping his bet. Drawn dead the last three hands.”
I shift my gaze that way, noticing the slump of Lucas’s shoulders. “Tell the dealer to shut down his table. Move Mr. Windsor to a new game, different players, and offer fifty grand complimentary chips for the inconvenience. Do not let him lose any more.”
He nods and saunters off. We also don’t let our members leave with huge deficits. No one wants to return to the place they lost their livelihood. At La Lune Noire, the house wins more by keeping money in the members’ pockets.
Nothing else is out of the ordinary as we breeze through the halls, past the restaurants, bars, theater, shops, and up toward the surveillance room, lively swing music ushering our journey.
“It’s been a relatively smooth evening,” Gentry begins once we’re away from the crowds. “No convention tonight. Theaged beef shipment was delayed again, which has caused some irritation among some of the guests due to menu alterations, but the chefs are rising to the challenge. Consider it handled. The negotiations in Conference Room Three are underway, which I’m told are a great success.” He scrolls through his tablet. “And … there doesn’t seem to be anything else concerning.”
I kick up my chin to a couple of stockbrokers ambling by before we take a right turn. “Are you telling me I might actually get an early night, Gentry?”
“It would appear that way, sir.”
“And Maddox and Cash aren’t forcing the department heads to feed you a line of bullshit so they can get rid of me for something?”
As he yanks open the door to the staff-only hallway, his forehead wrinkles, and his response oozes authenticity. “I don’t believe so, but I only know what the managers report.”
An early night would be nice. Maybe Mercy and I could do something normal, like play a game or watch an episode ofFriendsshe’s seen a thousand times or a documentary about some bizarre fascination she’s latched on to. Something domestic since my fresh tattoo prevents me from partaking in my nightly swim. Something that won’t have her on edge. Axel’s there. He could be a buffer so I don’t pounce on her.
“Where’s Jax?” I ask as we step into the surveillance room, just in time for me to see Tessa flipping the bird to the eye in the sky—the ceiling camera—from the piercing boutique.
All employees have a signal they give the camera to let us know they’re safe. Dealers clap out—three swift claps and open palms—to show they aren’t stealing, which is customary in a casino, but here, it also ensures us it’s business as usual. If they give us two slower claps, we have our security team on the floor immediately. Other employees have leeway on the gesture they choose, and Tessa is … pissy.
“Jax is gearing up for another late night tattoo. Oh, which brings me to one other matter,” Gentry answers. “Vander Floros is here tonight with Amy, of course, and his two brothers. One is getting inked, and Vander was hoping he and Amy could take the other to Magie Noire with an unvetted guest.”
My heart jumps to my throat as I whip my head toward him. “A guest? What guest?”
“He didn’t say.” Gentry’s tone is tentative, laced with all the apprehension it should be holding.
“Pull up all the cameras for the Blind Tiger,” I instruct the surveillance techs, and within seconds, I find Mercy on the monitor, perched on a stool beside Amy.
Boxed in by Vander and his brothers.
And I see fucking red.
I’m out the door, slipping into one of our concealed passageways, and sprinting through the narrow corridors. There are some that ramp up to a stairwell, which takes us to our penthouse. There are some that lead to our armory—a necessity in case we encounter an on-site war. I briefly consider stopping there first. But I’m already armed, so I opt for the fastest route to our entertainment area, choosing the back entrance into the Blind Tiger’s storage room.
A barback is the first to spot me, and his face pales. Either seeing the owner climb through the hidden door is alarming or I appear as murderous as I feel.
Brushing past him, I sneak around the corner to get an eye on Mercy, and not much has changed. She’s sideways on her stool, her elbow resting on the bar top with a beer in her hand—her drink of choice when she wants to be certain she won’t overindulge. That would possibly set me at ease if it wasn’t for the round of shots just delivered.
Deciding not to shoot the Floros brothers from across the crowded room, I flag down the bartender, tell him precisely what to do, and stride toward the assholes.
“Who the fuck ordered those shots?” I bark, and a hush falls over the bar.
Vander gives me a take-it-easy dip of his chin, immediately stepping backward and dragging Amy and his brothers with him. “It was just a round of Jäger.”
