She stared at me and I would have handled a bullet wound better than this situation.
“I thought it meant you’d made a choice. That you weren’t going to be?—”
“So I’m either too young or not owned. That about sum it up?” She cut me off.
“I just didn’t realize you were still in it. Still a pawn being moved around the board.”
The look she gave me. Fuck. I hadn’t meant to insult her. But clearly by her expression I had just made it ten times worse. This is exactly why I didn’t talk to people.
She straightened her shoulders. “Drop me off here.”
“Why?”
“Just stop the car.”
“No.”
“Stop the fucking car, Vincent.”
I exhaled through my nose and tapped the panel for the driver. “Pull over.”
We slowed near a tall building, golden-lit and ridiculous, one of those dynasty-run hotels that cost more for a pillow than some people made in a week.
I did a double take when I saw the Crow crest on the hotel. What the fuck. Since when did we own this place. We rolled to the curb. As soon as the car stopped. She reached for the handle, and opened it.
“Have a nice life, Crow.”
Then she stepped out and slammed the door behind her.
I didn’t move. I looked down at my hand. Still wearing the ring. Like it meant something.
I let my head fall back against the seat and closed my eyes. I’d fought a hundred men. Led thousands. Taken lives. But that—thatmoment in the car, had ripped through me with more damage than a bullet ever could.
The driver cleared his throat. “Sir?”
I opened my eyes. “Black Vault Casino.”
By the time I reached the casino my mind was elsewhere. The elevator ride to the top surveillance level was quiet. Too quiet. The kind that made your blood feel loud. Rome was pacing when I got there, one hand gripping a radio, the other holding a half-crushed cigar.
“Took you long enough,” he muttered.
“I was busy.”
He glanced at me once, face tight, but didn’t say anything. “West wing syndicate floor. Chip skimming operation. Looks like an inside breach.”
“How bad?”
“Twenty grand across four tables. A second crew trying to mask the payout by bouncing it through our lounge tabs.”
I barely heard him. My eyes were scanning the feed, but my brain wasn’t catching the images. She’d touched my hand. Andthen told me to have a nice life. It fucking bugged me more than I could admit.
“Vince.” Rome’s voice pulled me back. “You with me?”
“Yeah.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Send the recovery crew to the lounge. I want the floor manager pulled in. Check backroom footage, twenty-minute radius from the skim.”
