Page 11 of Unholy Vows (Original Sin)

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CHARLIE

After an endless twenty-four hours, I moved around La Leonora like a zombie. For the most part, I didn’t mind my waitressing job at the high-end casino. Sure, the clientele could get handsy, but the tips were great, and security was pretty good about throwing the offenders out.

Growing up at Mercy House, we’d been taught the dangers of gambling and drinking and how that path could lead to a life of sin and burning in Hell. The reality was far less dramatic: Rich people having fun, and poor people trying desperately to catch a lucky break. There were no saints or sinners on the floor tonight. Just ordinary people, as good or as terrible as any people could be.

Tonight, I bustled about the tables in the Atrium Bar mindlessly, handing over drinks and checks for more money than Lucy and I spent all week, distracted and exhausted.

There were a few big shots drinking at the bar, and ignoring their loud, braying laughter was nearly impossible.

“Does anyone really need to laugh that loud? Is anyone ever that happy about anything?” I complained to the bartender halfway through my shift.

His name was Alec, and he was an aspiring dancer. Like all the staff at La Leonora, he was just paying the bills and hustling on the side as he worked toward his dream. AC was full of dreamers trying to become something else. Someone else.

“But how would everyone know they’re having a great time if they aren’t broadcasting it? Though, I think in their case, it’s just the coke talking, or laughing,” Alec deadpanned and sighed. “And just think, that’s our justice system right there.”

“Meaning?”

“That’s Commissioner Reynolds and Judge Ellens. Look how annoying they are, and they’re the good guys.”

I stared at the two bloated older men, laughing, drinking, and winking at the waitresses passing by. Linchpins of the New Jersey justice system. I shuddered at the thought. Any mention of the police had me sweating. Waking nightmares of the cops appearing to arrest me and Lucy filled my head. They didn’t seem like they’d bought anything I’d said.

Even scarier was the thought of the missing drugs and the phone. The cartel had Lucy’s number. Would they come and get her? Would she be on the hook for the drugs or the proceeds? Maybe we should have told the police everything.No.I might be scared, but that would still never be my go-to instinct.

I’d learned how the police could mess up. I’d seen it firsthand. When I’d started nursing school, one of my nurse friends had reported her violent boyfriend for smacking her around at home. The police had barely investigated. Then, after he’d put her in the hospital, they’d taken him in for questioning and charged him with assault. A month later, after a judge had gone easy on him since it was his first offense, he’d come after her and hit her with his car. There wasn’t any evidence to connect him to the hit-and-run, but everyone knew it was him. That was the legacy of the police in my head.

Or take my father’s death. A poor Irish immigrant who had worked a couple of side hustles and hardly been a huge contributor to society. They’d never found the perp who’d gunned him down. They’d barely bothered to look. Our neighborhood wasn’t exactly high up on the cop’s priority list. They didn’t care what the people there did.

I was a person from that neighborhood, and so was Lucy. At the end of the day, the cops wouldn’t care unless we had something they could use against someone important. The De Sanctis family was important. In a clash between them and the police, we would be the casualties. I knew it without question. No one could take care of you except you.

I’d never had any reason to doubt the truth of that depressing statement.

I leftwork on a cloud of distraction. Soon, I’d have exams coming up, and I had to find time to study. Typical that my head felt like it was filled with swarming wasps. Worries zoomed around inside, vicious and mean.

I waited at the bus stop outside the casino and sank down in a rare seat once it came. The sky was brightening. I’d worked an overnight shift, and my feet throbbed, like I was walking on the bare bones. I was on them for so many hours, it didn’t matter what shoes I wore; they ached all the time.

I dozed off a little and only woke when I realized somewhere in my brain that the bus had stopped for longer than usual. Damn, had I reached the end of the route while I was asleep? It wouldn’t be the first time.

I peered around. It was dark inside the bus, though the sky was shifting from dishwater gray to pale white, tinged with pink. It looked like blood spilling across a new canvas. I wiped my mouth and eyes. They were gritty and heavy. I would wash off my dried-up makeup as soon as I got home. It was always a highlight of my night.

I grabbed my bag and pushed myself up.

The bus had pulled into a place I didn’t recognize. It appeared to be a rest stop. I glanced out the window, wondering why the hell we’d stopped here. In the distance, a few people hustled across the parking lot. I thought I recognized one of them from being on the bus earlier. Did we have to get off here?

The quiet sound of male voices drifted to me. The driver was talking to someone. I peered forward, a trickle of unease working through me, chasing away any remnants of sleep.

Ahead of the bus, a huge black SUV was parked at an odd angle, like it had forced the bus to stop. The bus driver was speaking with someone outside, and he looked pale. He turned and strode away, just as the person he was talking to turned and barked what felt like an order over his shoulder. There were two others with him.

My blood turned to ice. I recognized them.

The De Sanctis men from the warehouse. The killers whose crime we’d witnessed.

Swallowing my cry of panic, I backed up the aisle. There was a door at the back, and it stood open right now. The men moved toward the front entrance; I could just make them out. I reached the back stairs and started down them silently.

My sneakers barely made a sound when I stepped onto the hard dirt of the rest stop, but it didn’t matter. Someone was there waiting for me.

A man dressed head to toe in black stood at the foot of the steps. He wasn’t one of the men from the warehouse. This man was clearly in charge.

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