Page 29 of Chaos Luck Wrath

“What do you want us to do?” Ethan shifted in his seat as he posed the question to her.

Layne hung her head down as she shut her eyes trying to think past her swirling emotions. Refusing to sit back down, she spoke through gritted teeth, “Someone get me a fucking name. The name of someone who can help me. I don’t care who they are or where they’re from.”

When she lifted her head and opened her eyes, they were all still sitting there with solemn looks on their damn faces.

“NOW!” She barked at them, wondering what they were waiting for.

Sam was the first to push out of his chair and leave the room, followed quickly by Jonathan.

Ethan was slow to make his way out, stopping and whispering to her, “Liam always finds a way to fuck himself over; we’ll find something sooner or later.” Then, there was hesitation as his voice caught as though he was about to say something more.

Layne looked up at the broad and muscular man at her side. His longer locks of blonde hair hung down out of place in front of his eyes.

“What else?” she said defeatedly, expecting another dose of bad news.

Unsure of what lengths Layne was willing to go to or how desperate she was feeling, he hesitated in directing her towards a wild card. Ethan cleared his throat. “There’s a high roller at table fifteen, the one that looks like he’s had five too many plastic surgeries. He knows a guy that might be able to help.”

The faintest glimmer of hope began to chase away her frustration. “What type of guy?”

“Just,” he sighed, “a guy that I’ve heard that has methods that would have sent Eric Ellis crying to his mommy. Some Russian dipshit, not anyone I would want watching my back.”

Of course it was a deranged Russian—those assholes always seemed to have a screw loose. This bit of information sounded both promising and terrifying.

Seeing the gears turning in Layne’s head, Ethan frowned and placed a hand on top of hers. “Only for use in case of emergency, Layne. I’m serious.”

She gave a slow nod as she took it all under consideration.

“Thanks, E. I appreciate it.” Layne offered him a light smile before he did the same and left her there with her considerations of what she should do.

Once she composed herself and pulled her big boss bitch panties on, she headed over to table fifteen. Sure enough, there was some man who should have looked old enough to be her grandfather, yet his face was stretched so tight, that the jazzercise leotards from the eighties would have been jealous.

When she approached, she lifted a finger to the attendant at the roulette table, prompting a pause in action. Layne pulled up a seat next to the man Ethan directed her to.

Mr. Shiny Plastic Face glanced over at her and grunted.

Layne leaned against the edge of the table as she faced him. “I don’t think I need to introduce myself. I need the name of someone who’s known to get results, and I’m told you’re the man who is going to give it to me.”

The fucker laughed like she was running a standup comedy joint here. The other players at the table even knew that had been a mistake and all seemed to lean back in their chairs.

Her cheeks grew warm with the flare of her irritation. Not in the mood to play fucking games with some rich asshole, she snatched the back of his head and slammed it forward into the table.

The impact had chips rattling and skittering in several directions. She made sure his face met the table two more times before holding his bloodied mug down against it.

She leaned in and harshly spoke to him, “The goddamn name. Now.”

Whimpering at the superficial damage she had done to his precious face he treasured so much, he stuttered out, “M-my… pocket, left pocket. His card is in my wallet.”

Pinning his head down, she went in search of the wallet. When she retrieved it, she opened it one-handedly, thumbing out a small black card from one of the slots. Layne released the gambler while she looked over the glossy cardstock with nothing but the initials ‘D.P.’ and a QR code on it.

“This him?” She showed the card to the man who was fumbling for cocktail napkins for the laceration above the bridge of his nose that was forking blood down both sides of his nose.

“Y-yes,” he muttered.

“Thanks for your cooperation.” Layne tossed the worn leather wallet onto the roulette wheel. After tucking the card away safely into her pocket, she motioned to a security guard to get the pathetic mess of a man out of her club.

Her eyes found Joey sitting at the table he had promised he’d be occupying. His soul-capturing brown eyes stared at her after the minor show of violence she had just put on. Layne’s heart both swelled and ached, he was worth every last emergency call and last-ditch effort. Hell, if she wasn’t going to make a deal with every devil, demon, and god if it meant preventing the two loves of her life from sacrificing themselves for her.

Chapter Fourteen

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