Page 18 of Vicious Little Games

Before I walk outside the front entrance of the casino, I stop and look at my phone, trying to decide whether I should call my mom and bitch some more about how unnecessary this shit is. She still can’t seem to grasp the fact that I’m a grown ass man.

But then I remember her talking about being kidnapped last night at dinner and I slip my phone back into my jean pocket.

Turning to face the two henchmen in the middle of the mostly empty casino floor since the gamblers are probably still hungover or sleeping, I ask, “Did you two know about my mom being kidnapped?”

“Yeah, we were with Dante when he went after her,” the slightly smaller of the two answers. Both have dark brown hair, kept short, and similar brown eyes. The same goes for most of Dante’s guards. Which has another question popping into my head about Cass’s preferred type. First, though, “Was it bad? It was bad, wasn't it?” I ask them.

“Their vehicle didn’t get far before we ran them off the road and killed all six of the Russians inside of it.”

Six. Six thugs were sent by my grandfather to kidnap and do no telling what to Dante’s woman, my mother, all on the orders of either my grandfather or one of his men. Not that they knew who they had grabbed at the time, apparently. This gangster shit is so fucked up.

“Fine,” I huff before asking my other question. “Are either of you screwing Cass?”

Their eyes widen, then the two men look at each other in silence for a long moment before they both…begin to belly laugh.

“Is that a yes?” I shout at them over their laughter.

The smaller one, slaps the other on the arm. “I think…I think he’s…actually serious.” That statement is followed by more raucous laughter, until their faces are bright red, and their eyes are watering.

The larger man swipes his knuckles underneath his eyes as he straightens. “That’s the funniest shit I’ve ever heard. Nobody in their right mind would even think about being alone with one of the mafia princesses, much less…no, I can’t even say the words. If Dante overhears, he will cut my tongue out for just speaking of such things and his daughters in the same sentence.”

Wow. I believe him. The other guard looks just as nervous about the turn of our conversation all of a sudden. His eyes dart around the casino floor as if expecting Dante to suddenly pop out from behind a row of slot machines.

“Neither of you work the night shifts, do you?”

“No. We both have enough seniority that we only work the daylight hours. Why?” the big guy asks.

“No reason,” I mutter as I turn back around and walk out the entrance. A few cars are lined up, either checking out this morning or waiting for valets to park them, none of which are Dante’s blacked out, bulletproof vehicles. “Where are the SUVs?”

“They’re all parked on the other side of the casino.”

Spinning around to face the guards who have sobered from their laughter, I ask, “Then why the hell didn't one of you say something?”

The larger one shrugs his linebacker shoulders. “You didn't ask.”

“Yeah, our job is to follow you, not tell you where to go.”

Staring up at the underside of the concrete porte cochere, I ask anyone listening up in the heavens how the fuck am I going to come up with twenty thousand dollars with my constant babysitters tailing my every move.

Amber wasn’t wrong. I regularly get calls about taking on new contracts, and I’ve ignored them all for the past year. I really don’t want to have to take any more just to come up with the cash she’s demanding. What I need is a way to shut her up for good. Otherwise, in a few months, she’ll just be calling me up yet again.

If I could convince my mom to put my tuition payment into my account instead of paying it directly to the school, I could use it to pay Amber and get a student loan or some shit.

When I finally lower my gaze, I see a commotion further down at one of the revolving doors. A skeleton of a brunette woman in oversized, dirty clothes, is being herded away while getting chewed out by three casino security guards in all black attire.

“You can't loiter around here, harassing Mr. Salvato's customers for money!” one of the men snaps at her as they crowd her backward onto the sidewalk.

“Let me borrow a few dollars and I'll leave.”

“Get lost or I'll have the cops come arrest you.”

Yeah, okay so I'm a dick for complaining about needing blackmail money and being part of a family that's so rich I have actual human shields following me around, while this woman has to literally beg strangers for a few dollars.

Removing my wallet from my back pocket, I pull out all the cash I have and stride over, holding the folded bills out to her. It’s not like the twenty and a few ones will put a dent in the thousands I need.

The woman looks at the money then up at my face with glazed over hazel eyes before taking the wad. “Thank you, sir.”

“I'm sorry they're being dicks to you,” I say with a nod of my head to the retreating men. “But hopefully that will get you something to eat.”

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