Page 21 of Unlawful Lies

Fuck me.

Nicola will never forgive me if I do nothing. If I sit in this chair with my ass glued to the seat and ignore him like every other man in this place, she’ll know. Somehow, it will get back to her.

Why now, though? Why would I jump to his rescue when I never have before? There are protocols we follow, those spoken or written and those living under our skin invisibly.

She’ll rip me from navel to asshole in a heartbeat, which will certainly put a damper on my plan to bed her.

“Balestra? Call it,” Hognose Pete presses.

With a sigh of impatience, I toss my hand into the center of the table and stub out my cigarette on the green felt. “I’m done. Take this as your miracle for the night, boys. Now you might have an actual chance.”

“You can’t be serious.” Lil Joey stares at me with his mouth half a second away from unhinging. “You were winning. You’re going to walk away?”

Impatience knots my brows together. “And now I’m done.”

This is suicide. The thought dogs my steps all the way to the entrance. Arden stumbles to his knees, and I reach down to grab him, his skin fish-pale with a strange green-and-white cast to his features.

His eyes are black orbs in his face and too wide to be normal. He’s shitfaced, but that’s not all.

I know the look. I’ve lived it a thousand times myself.

He smells like sweat, shit, and something metallic.

“Salvatore, get control of yourself.” I grip his shoulders as I hoist him up and set him square on his feet. “If you want to get high, then do it at home when there's no one to see you.”

I whisper the last part in his ear and covertly steer him toward the restrooms.

His body resists movement, his feet stumbling over themselves and his knees locked together. He reaches for me, grasping my shirt and almost taking me to the floor with him.

My stomach drops.

“Ed…. ward?”

It’s an effort to get out my name, and those two syllables cost him his breath. Instead of leaning on me for support, he pushes back, again turning and falling into the door.

Laughter trails us all the way outside.

“Let him go!” someone calls from the back of the room. “He’s a loser.”

“Better yet, bring him back,” another person yells. “Let him piss his money away.”

He’s got more money than I do on his worst day. Addictions are terrible masters, though. They ride you hard and make you do things a sane person wouldn’t do.

My fingers itch to grab my gun, hidden in my holster and unloaded, as per the rules of the club. The metal detectors at the door and the less-than-savory pat down keep the animals inside in line.

Outside the doors, though, honor and mercy disappear. The bouncers at the door hand off my personal box of belongings. Inside, the bullets stand at attention like rows of obedient soldiers.

I hustle to shove them in my pockets and hurry.

Outside, the sultry night air shoots down my lungs and adds twenty pounds to my weight.

“Salvatore, come on,” I shout after the wobbling figure. Shadows reach out from the walls and cloak him like a fine mist. “I’ll get you a cab. Let’s get you home.” I groan, my vocal cords rubbing together almost painfully. “I’m sure your family is worried about you.”

The fucking man is losing his marbles, and he’s going to be a bigger liability than we thought if he keeps this up. Father won’t take this news lightly unless I can find a way to smooth things over.

Fuck, I can’t leave Arden this way.

Instinct prickles the back of my neck, and I cock the gun, now fully loaded and primed at the man’s back in case he decides to go squirrelly on me, the box in my pocket.

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