I swallowed. “I know.”
He looked at me with pleading eyes. “Can you do one more night?”
I didn’t have a choice.
Nothing mattered except winning.
It didn’t matter that the bouncer I had a crush on may have blown up my brother’s car. It didn’t matter that he might have been the one who attacked Joel the first time.
Just my luck. I finally feel something somewhat romantic toward a person, and he’s an absolute psychopath.
“Joel . . . who attacked you?” I didn’t want to know the answer. That would make everything far more complicated. But Ineededthe answer.
If I was stealing from Peter to pay Paul by trying to win money at the very place Joel owed his debt to, I was in deep shit.
His expression tightened. “I told you. He caught me off guard.”
It was a lie. I had been watching people bluff all week. Joel was exceptionally bad at it.
“How are you supposed to give them the money?”
“They’ll find me. Always do,” he said.
If my hunch was right, and Jude was connected to the car explosion—and somehow connected to the people Joel owed money to—I couldn’t gamble at the Four Horsemen again.
But it was also my surest bet. The clock was running out.
“I need to sleep.” I looked at the front door as anxiety coiled around me like a death adder.
“I’ll stay up,” Joel blurted out. “I’ll . . . shotgun an energy drink or something. We can trade off in the morning. I’ll wake you up if something feels off.”
Exhaustion and terror were a nauseating concoction. The world spun as delirium set in, and I nodded weakly.
I had learned the rotation of bouncers and casino security. I knew to stay away from the old bartender. I could fly under the radar one more night.
I just had to stay away from the man who saw me better than anyone ever had.
11
JUDAH
Thursday, May 22 | 6:58 p.m.
“We’re not open yet,” I barked at the woman who was strolling across the casino floor like she owned the damn place.
Weshouldhave been open hours ago, but Valentine had gotten a little bloodthirsty the night before when one of his underworld connections tried to walk out of the high roller room without accepting the shitty deal that had been offered.
Unfortunately, before Valentine had me oversee the body dump, blood had been spilled inside the casino.
A lotof blood.
Allover the casino.
The cleaners Valentine paid handsomely to have on retainer and look the other way when stains were—shall we say—questionablehad only left an hour ago. Now, it was all hands on deck to reset the floor so we could open for business.
He needs to stop treating this place like a backroom and clean it up. The man has more money than God—he can afford to spruce up the public-facing side of the joint.
That’s where I never understood Valentine’s ego. On one hand, he expected the finer things in life. On the other hand, he didn’t care if this place was up to par with the rest of the casinos in Atlantic City. But I wasn’t about to be the one to tell him he could make more money if he just gave the inside a decent paint job and replaced the carpet.
