I head toward the host who always escorts me around the side of the building toward the underground portion, and we make our way through the coded doors to the basement.
It’s loud down here tonight, with music playing over the din of dice as they’re thrown on tables, cards that are dealt to cheers or disappointment, and general chatter.
I’m immediately greeted by another host downstairs, and we discuss how much I want on my credit line tonight.
I should’ve been smart enough to cash out my winnings the last time I was here, but I made a quick exit. This place still has twenty-five grand of my money, so I tell her to put it all on my line. My hope is to double it tonight and walk away with a boatload of money.
If I can give to the Bradley pockets in this manner, I can take it away, too. And maybe tonight, I just want to take a little away from the Bradleys. I’m still hurt that she pushed me away even if deep down I know it was probably the right thing to do.
I’m hurt over a lot of shit, I guess, and tonight I just want to lose myself in some mindless fun.
I sit at one of the few blackjack tables down here, and the dealer issues me my chips as the waitress brings me my usual scotch without even asking.
Ben Olson is at the table, too. “Jennings!” he greets me. He chugs what’s left in his glass. “I need to get home. Good to see you, man, but shouldn’t you be home resting up for practice tomorrow?”
I nod. “I’m not planning to stay long.”
He gets up and nods at me. “I’ll see you around.”
After he leaves, I win the first hand.
I win the second hand.
I’ve got a ten showing, and the dealer has a four. I double down. I have five grand on the table, and I’ve only been here for about ten minutes. I’m actually winning as I try to turnthis shitty day around, and that’s when I hear the shouting voice that breaks into the din down here.
“Hands where we can see them!”
The room goes absolutely silent as the music is cut and some overhead lights are flipped on, casting the entire large room in the harsh glow of fluorescent lights.
My head whips over to the sound of the voice, and my heart sinks into the pit of my stomach as I spot the SWAT team here to raid this place. To make matters even worse, it’s not just the Vegas police. I spot the FBI, too.
Fuck.
I amsofucked.
My chest tightens as I raise my hands in the air. The cards still sit on the table in front of me, five grand worth of money on a hand I’ll never know whether I won or lost.
I lost.
That much is clear.
The dealer raises his hands, too—as do the other players at this table where we were all winning.
As far as I know, the police care more about the operators in these underground casinos than the players…which means Everleigh’s father is pretty well fucked.
As his wife deals with the cancer diagnosis she just received. As the entirefamilydeals with that news. Now the patriarch is going to prison?
Jesus.
The family is falling apart at the seams. I need to get to Everleigh. I need to tell her what’s going on. I need to warn her, at the very least.
The thought of what happened today between us is the furthest thing from my mind as protective mode kicks in. I reach for my phone, sure the officers raiding this joint won’t see me, but they do.
“Don’t move!” one screeches at me, and I innocently move my hand back into the air.Fuck.
Of all the goddamn nights to choose to come to this place, it had to be tonight. I should never have stepped foot through the doors.
“Secure the exit!” someone yells.
