Declan
Sometimes,Declan felt like he had fucked his life up so royally, he might as well just burn the whole thing down.
And down in the basement dive bar where he had been drinking the past seven hours, he could almost forget that the sun was probably up by now, a new day starting while he flushed his savings down the toilet, one bet at a time.
Big Paolo grinned. He had a cigarette dangling from his lips and five cards fanned in front of his face. “Full house, asshole. Looks like you’re screwed.”
Declan kicked his foot up against the table as he rocked back on the legs of his chair. He considered making a run for it, but the hulking men standing behind Big Paolo with blank expressions probably wouldn’t have gone for that.
You’d think they’d crack a smile. He’d just lost all the money he had in the world, and about three times over at that.
Some people were so damn serious.
Big Paolo took a sip from his scotch, then coughed and laughed as he scooped up all the cash and chips and papers in the middle of the table, making a nice pile right in front of himself. “I got to say, Declan. I’m impressed. You lasted all night.”
“Sure, but those other guys took off with a lot more cash in their pockets.” Declan fumbled for his cigarette, lighting it up in the smoky, dim room. There was no one left in the bar at that hour, just the men with guns watching the door for the poker game.
Big Paolo’s face had a sheen of sweat, and a small brown hat cast a shadow over his eyes. “Now that you’re cleaned out,” he said, “there’s the little matter of settling up.”
In Declan’s head, he traced over everything he owned. There was his ranch, where he should have spent that night, instead of locked up in this Vegas basement with a man who ran his own crime syndicate. Declan had a couple of muscle cars, one that actually worked. Some guns, some cash… Lots of shit, actually, but nothing that would add up to what was owed.
“About that,” Declan said, casting his eyes around for another exit and debating whether he could spend the rest of his life on the run from Big Paolo’s reach. Unlikely, although he’d gotten away with plenty worse in his time. Hell, it had taken him most of the last decade to shake a hitman with a particularly nasty grudge.
He snapped his eyes back to Big Paolo, then rubbed his thumb across his stubble, thinking carefully. “How soon do you want me to pay up?”
Big Paolo took another drag of his cigarette as he glared. “Declan, I’m disappointed. A few hours ago, you were swearing up and down that you were good for it. Are you trying to back out now?” He clicked his tongue a few times. “I don’t take nicely to liars. You know that.”
Declan thought back to the bleary moment he had put his life on the table, doubling down on one bet after the next, writing checks his ass couldn’t cash. The tequila shots he’d gulped around one in the morning probably had something to do with it, although big money on the table always got him horny and thinking crooked. He struggled not to kick himself for making mistakes when he knew better, mistakes he never would have made back when his head was in the game, and he was still employed by men like Big Paolo.
“Oh, I got it, don’t you worry,” he said, glancing down at the pathetic hand that had cost him. “Just have to move some things around, you know? Call in some debts.”
Big Paolo stared hard, smoke drifting in the air as he nursed his drink. He held two fingers in the air and made a small gesture, and one of his men hurried forward to whisper in his boss’s ear.
Probably arguing about the best way to break his fingers, Declan figured.
Big Paolo leaned forward as his henchman stepped back. “You know, Declan, considering all you’ve done for me in the past, I’m not looking forward to throwing you off a roof.”
“Considering the mess that would make, who would be?” Declan asked, cocking up a grin as he leaned back in the chair again. It was always best to come at these things light. Much less roof-tossing that way. “But Paolo, you’re not even giving me a chance to pay you back? That’s bad business.”
Big Paolo grinned. “Actually, I think I have the perfect compromise. After all, you were one of my best bodyguards back in the day, before you retired to the poker tables. Let me ask you, Declan, do you like it here in Vegas?”
“Meh,” he answered with a shrug. “The air’s a bit dry.”
Big Paolo coughed a laugh. “Fuck right it is. Me, I think that it might be time for you to take a vacation. Maybe a long one.”
Declan stubbed out his cigarette. “If this is a vacation with the fishes or a hole in the middle of the desert, I’ll pass.”
“Upstate New York,” he answered.
Declan squinted through the alcohol that blurred his vision. “Say that again?”
“A security job came across my desk. A lucrative one, too. Just need someone to go up to New York for six months, maybe a year. Problem is,” he gestured backward to his men, “I can’t spare a guy from my crew right now.”
Declan had run security for Big Paolo since he moved to Vegas a decade ago, fresh off a career with his family’s crime syndicate back in Seattle. He’d guarded a few poker games when he first got to the city and quickly found himself promoted high enough that he watched after the big man himself on special occasions. He’d taken more than his share of punches to keep Big Paolo and his crew safe, but Declan had finally given up that work years ago, after coming a little too close to losing his head.
He was pretty damn fond of his head, after all.
“So what, you want to give me a job, Paolo?”
