Playing at the Four Horsemen was risky, but reward didn’t come without risk.
Blackjack, I had learned, was as much science as it was luck. Itwaspossible to beat the house.
I just had to get in and get out before the house realized it was losing.
I pulled into my apartment complex’s parking lot, cut the engine, and sank into the seat. I was bone-tired and far too exhausted to climb the stairs.
Sixty thousand.
I had about ten grand left in my trust. I didn’t want to touch it—I really wanted to buy a house and get out of apartment living. But if it meant keeping Joel safe, I’d give it to him in a heartbeat.
I let out a long, slow breath, then hopped out of the car and headed up the stairs. In a few hours, early risers across the complex would turn on their lights and get ready for work. And here I was, dragging my feet up the stairs, smelling like liquor and cigarette smoke.
I had no idea how people worked the night shift. I was three days into a nocturnal schedule, and already my sanity was slowly slipping away.
The light in my living room glowed from the small windowpane beside the door. I clutched the bag that held my winnings to my chest and didn’t release the tension in mymuscles until I was inside and had flipped the lock and the deadbolt.
Joel wasn’t in the living room. Maybe he had just left the lights on since it was painful to move around the apartment, even on his crutches.
The light glowed from beneath the guest room door that had become his bedroom when he moved in.
I knocked quietly, just in case he was asleep. When there was no answer, I turned the handle and poked my head in.
Joel was sitting at his desk with his back to me. His leg was propped up on a hamper that was overflowing with dirty clothes.
I groaned at the thought of having to do laundry tomorrow, but Joel couldn’t carry the hamper to the washing machine. Still, I had been doing his laundry even before some psychopath had bashed his knee in.
He was wearing headphones, bobbing along to music only he could hear.
That’s when I noticed what was on his screen.
“You havegotto be kidding me,” I spat out as my vision went blood red.
Joel looked over his shoulder and ripped his headphones off. “Mia?—”
I held out a hand, as if he was charging at me and I was trying to stop him. Really, I was trying to stop myself from killing him. “I’m out here busting my ass and almost getting roofied, and you’re in heregamblingaway the money that’s supposed to get you out of this?” I shouted.
He reached for his crutches. “You gotdrugged?”
“Don’t change the subject!”
“Mia!” he said as he tapped a button and darkened his computer screen.
I stormed over, tapped the same button to turn the screen back on, and studied the betting site he was quickly losing money to.
My hands trembled as I tried to curb my temper, but I was irate. “I have driven thirty hours back and forth. I have stayed in the shittiest hotels. I almost got drugged tonight. And somehow, you have theaudacityto do anything other than kiss my fucking feet for sticking my neck out for you, when you got yourself into this mess!”
Joel groaned into his hands. “I’m trying to help. I figured I could win a little to add to what you’re doing.”
“You’relosing,” I yelled. “Badly. You’re impulsive, irresponsible, and emotional. And you suck at gambling. I’m trying my best to keep your other kneecap in the state that it is right now—or to keep something worse from happening—and you’re throwing it all away!”
I was shaking. I wanted to grab my keys, take all the cash, storm out, and leave him to face the consequences of his actions.
“You’re not supposed to be doing anything but sitting in bed, thinking about what you’ve done,” I snapped.
“Easy for you to say!”
“Don’t you dare turn this on me,” I seethed.
