Page 117 of Gambler's Conceit

“We aren’t witnesses,” I say.

“Then you don’t?—”

I interrupt him, playing the only card I can think of. “Thatkidis a grown-ass man, and he’s Caleb Spade’s boyfriend.”

Please, please let this be one of the cops on our payroll.

“We’ll need to see the footage from the accident,” I say, as authoritative as I’ve ever been. “Now.”

The cop jumps to attention. After a brief staredown, he grumbles and motions to the cab driver. “Show him the footage from the dashcams.”

The cab driver doesn’t seem to know what to do with that, but he ends up pulling the dashcam footage on his phone.

“Seven!” Havoc pulls the phone out of the driver’s hand and zooms in. “Fuck. That’s Seven. He looks…”

Yeah. I see it too. His expression is listless, numb.

But he had enough in him to run.

“Who’s he with?” I ask, trying to take the phone from Havoc. He sidesteps me, staring down at the footage as another man comes into view.

The Lockwood goon is almost as big as I am, bald and with a furious expression that makes me worry even more for Seven. If he gets his hands on Seven…

He won’t. We won’t let him.

“Where’d this guy go?” I ask sharply, pointing to the phone as Havoc pauses the screen.

“He, ah…” The cab driver looks between me and Havoc. “He ran off after the kid.” He points north. “That direction. I wasn’t really watching after that, though, becausesomeonefucking rear-ended me!” The last few words are directed at one of the other drivers, but I don’t care about their bickering.

“If Seven’s smart, he’s sticking to the crowds,” Havoc says. “He’d know to do that, right?” He looks at the cab driver and says, “I’ll return this later.”

The cab driver gives him a confused look. “What? Return?—”

Havoc jogs off in the direction the cab driver had pointed, the phone with the dashcam footage still in hand.

I mutter a curse under my breath, then turn to the cab driver. “You worry about this fucking mess,” I say, which I know isn’t enough to placate him, but he seems to size up my sheer mass and decides not to argue.

I take off after Havoc, scanning the crowd for either Seven or the big man he’d been with. The latter will stand out, at least, even if Seven won’t.

I really, really fucking hope he’s sticking to the crowd, but I don’t know how long he’ll be able to stay ahead.

“This is pretty much fucking hopeless,” I tell Havoc as I catch up to him. “There’s no way we’re going to find him.” Which is good, because it means the Lockwood’s goon won’t be able to either, but at the same time,fuck.

“You people can track anyone down, right?” Havoc says, his eyes alert. “Fuck. If we were out in the desert, I’d have a chance of tracking him.”

“If he were out in the desert, he coulddie,” I snap at him. “Be glad he’s in the city.”

Havoc glares at me. “He could fucking die here, too. Or worse. Who the fuck was the guy with him anyway?”

I grimace. After years with the Spade family, I know the major players in the mafia—local and otherwise. Even though the Lockwoods are based out of New Bristol, theirclientsare rumored to be among the wealthiest and most elite in the country.

Guess that happens when you’re dealing with kids, a thought that makes bile rise in my throat.

“I don’t know his name,” I tell Havoc. “But he’s a goon for a family out of New Bristol.” I hesitate. There’s not really time to have this discussion, but I need him to understand how serious this situation is. “The Lockwoods. They’re small but powerful human traffickers. Well.” I laugh bitterly. “Sex traffickers. Kids, mostly. They found Seven somehow, and they want him back.”

Havoc lets out a loud curse. “The scars on Seven’s back…”

I nod. “Yeah. They’re probably afraid of what he could tell people. Not to mention?—”

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