“The Kings are good men,” he said sharply, displeasure twisting his face. “And I trust them to do what’s best for our city a hell of a lot more than I do the commissioner.”
“Like give out guns and drugs so people can die?” I dragged him out of the way of a shirtless waitress, sparkly red pasties the only thing protecting her from being totally exposed, and she smiled at us in appreciation as she rushed by with a tray of drinks.
“That’s the problem with society today. People are too quick to blame others instead of taking responsibility for their own actions. If you take the drugs, that’s a choice you made, not something that can be dumped onto anyone else.”
I had to remind myself that River didn’t see what I did every day—the dead teens, foam gathered at their mouths and their eyes lifeless, barely old enough to drive a car, let alone take drugs. Then there were the parents, broken and inconsolable as I told them their children were dead. River had no idea how much it tore at my insides, slowly destroying me.
“Some people don’t know any different,” I whispered. “It’s how they grew up.”
River glanced at me with disbelief, and I sighed. We wouldn’t agree on this conversation and it was best to drop it for the moment. River must have come to the same conclusion because he waved his hand. “Where do we start?”
“Do you know this Derek?” I stared around the room, taking note of the location of the guards and the obvious big spenders, but no one stuck out as the boss of the establishment.
“Yeah, I’ve met him once or twice, but he’s not here. From what I remember, he usually stays behind doors and lets his cousin handle the patrons.”
“His cousin?”
“Yeah. Mitch.” River slid his hand into mine and tugged me toward the stairs. We went up the steps and into another room with roulette wheels sunk into tables, and rat racing. I’d never seen anything like the rats before, and I stopped to watch the little creatures dart around a small track that had been made for them. Men and women stood in a circle around them, yelling at the rats as though that would make them run faster.
“They got all kinds of gambling here, huh?”
River chuckled. “You don’t want to see what’s on the third floor, or at least if it’s still the same.”
I probably didn’t.
“There’s Mitch,” he said in a quiet voice, nodding toward the corner of the room where a man stood talking to a guard. He had on an impeccably cut shiny blue suit and his dark hair was slicked back. He was a short fellow and reminded me a bit of a kid-shrink my mum made me go see when Hayden and I first started acting out. I expected him to be the kind of guy who could fit into a crowd, and sneak away when he needed to.
“Should we approach him?”
River squinted before he shook his head. “I think we should play some games first. Talking to him right away will make him suspicious.”
River and I walked over to a counter that changed cash into chips. We only cashed in a thousand bucks before he led me over to a roulette table. I didn’t know the first thing about gambling so I watched as he placed a bet. My attention was split between what River was doing and the cousin he’d pointed out. At one point when I glanced at him, Mitch was staring right back, a smirk on his smarmy face.
I nodded at him as though our gazes met by accident, and he cocked an eyebrow before I returned my attention back to River. He’d won the bet and grinned at me, obviously quite proud of himself.
I snorted and touched my hand to his lower back, leaning in closer. “How often do you gamble, Lamb?”
River gave me a one-shoulder shrug. “I don’t do it often. What’s the point of working hard to make money, only to lose it gambling?”
I agreed. When I turned back to Mitch he’d disappeared. Inwardly cursing, I sighed. “He’s gone.”
River glanced in that direction as well, but he didn’t look worried. “He’ll be back.”
His phone buzzed and he shoved his hand in the pocket of his pants to retrieve it. I leaned over to grab the chips he’d won, and set them with the others when he inhaled, his face paling.
“What’s wrong?” I was immediately on alert, the hairs on my arms standing up at his wide eyes behind his gold glasses. He passed me the phone and I read the message.
Do you want your intriguing photos back, River? Drop $100k in the trashcan along the lake, the one beside Lakeside Ave and the statue of Commodore Chauncey, at 1pm tomorrow, or we’ll make them public.
“What the fuck?” I muttered. Anger surged through me, making my belly hot with the urge to smash something. I hated that these bastards were threatening him. “Why now?”
“I don’t know.” He gritted his jaw and stared around the room, as though he’d see someone watching him. It was possible the culprits had seen him tonight and decided to finally move with the threat.
Someone cleared their throat behind us, and we turned toward a tall man with a maroon suit and salt-and-pepper hair. He had to have been in his late forties at least, with thick eyebrows and a handsome face.
“Derek.” River’s voice rose in shock, but he smiled.
“Mr. Demchenko.” Derek nodded toward him and held out his hand, and like any good businessman, River shook it. “I know who you are, of course. King’s lawyer. And you….” He turned to me, brows diving. “My bouncer on the door, Lund, was suspicious of you, and we did our research, Mr. Paxton. You’re a cop. Why are you here?”
