“You take them when they’re too old,” the Turk sneers. He aims a scathing look at Emma, who looks angrier than a snake. It doesn’t seem to bother him.
“You’re a filthy pig,” she snaps, and I want to grin. “I doubt you’d last ten minutes without a bucket of Viagra.”
“Pfft!” He curls his lip at her, then snaps a look at the senator. “Your woman needs discipline.”
Senator Roy gives a shrug. He’s too busy tallying up his winnings to be paying much attention.
“A lesson in manners,” the Turk snaps. “I’d offer to assist, but she’s not to my taste.”
“Probably because my clit’s bigger than your cock, you manky pillock,” she bites back. I choke on my whiskey. Thankfully, nobody notices.
“Emma, wind yer neck in,” McErlane warns her. To his credit, he’s not smiling at the Turk, who’s still talking to Robbins.
“A woman with a mouth is no asset to a man,” the Turk says. “Unless that mouth is being put to better use on his cock.”
I hear Emma gasp; her lips part as she plans a retort, but Robbins is already responding.
“She needs some finetuning, but I think we’ll get along just great.” He’s stacked up his chips and seems satisfied with the takings for the night. “I like my girls with a bit of fire in them, eh?” He turns to wink at Emma. “Because it’s just so satisfying to know you’re the one who beat it out of them…”
The Turk chuckles. “I have a special room at my villa for just such purposes. Lock them in there for a few days…no food…water only if they behave… It will take the fire right out of her.”
Robbins chuckles back. “I’ll bear that in mind, buddy.” He smirks. “Lord knows, she could afford to lose a pound or two.”
Emma’s mouth drops open. “Daddy!” She glances at McErlane. “Are you really going to make me go through with this?”
The words tell me all I need to know. She’s not happy about this match. It didn’t strike me as a love connection anyhow. There’s no way she’d have responded to me the way she did if she had feelings for the motherfucker.
Meanwhile, McErlane is giving her another of those warning stares.
“You’ll do as you’re told, girl. Just remember, you could have been hitched to Whitmore if he hadn’t disappeared on us.”
I feel my blood run cold. So the rumors were true – McErlane had been planning a marriage of convenience with the psycho. Mark Whitmore was a thorn in our side for decades. When he allied himself with the Irish, it escalated to madness. Until he’d started making enemies and then vanished. I imagine McErlane’s thinking he’s on a beach in Aruba right now.
He’s not.
I was there when we found him being skinned alive by the father of one of his victims. Probably rotting in a shallow grave right now. I wonder if Tommy Boy would have expected his daughter to marry the man if he knew about the sick snuff games he liked to play with girls.
Maybe he would.
I steal another glance at her. She’s pinched her lips together and is glaring down at where her hands are twisting on her lap.
Fuck.
Her distress shouldn’t bug me as much as it does.
“I think it’s heading to that time when we wrap it up for the night, gents. What do you say?” It’s Robbins now. McErlane is nodding, clearly in agreement. I hear others murmuring similar words. Not surprising. It’s been a long night…but I’m not done yet.
“Wait!” I say sharply and feel all eyes upon me. “One last round. Winner takes all.”
“Oh, yeah?” says Robbins. “What do you have left, Caraldi? I kinda think we cleaned you out.” But I can see a spark of interest in his eyes.
“My penthouse in the Zaha Hadid building,” I respond, glancing over at McErlane. There’s an audible intake of breath from around the table. I’m not surprised. The place is worth a mint.
“You play an interesting game, my friend,” Ali chuckles beside me. He’s running his fingers up and down his stack of chips. Tommy has his eyes narrowed on me.
“And what would you expect to match it with?” Tommy asks.
“A fifty percent share of your New York business,” I say smoothly. His eyes bug out.
