Page 36 of One Love

The idiot scoffs, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief before slicing a glare my way. “Because I’m smart and you people are a bunch of amateurs.”

His answer intrigues me. He’s not even hiding the fact that something’s not squeaky clean about him. In fact, he soundsalmost disappointed that we’re still trying to figure him out, like he’s playing the kiddie leagues when he believes he belongs in the majors.

“That’s a little condescending coming from someone who can’t seem to catch a break at the casinos yet comes around three times a week to…continue losing.” I take a sip from the fancy bottle of water, pausing for effect. “You know, Einstein was onto something with his theory on insanity. You doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different outcome says a lot about you too.” My phone pings with a text message, and even though we’re not supposed to be on our phones, I still take it out and read it. Clearly, I don’t give a fuck. Is Z going to kick me out? Yeah, I don’t think so.

Glitch: Incoming

Glitch: Harvey Cook

I’m guessing it’s a picture, and just as the grainy image pops up on my screen, Dmitry slides in next to me and kisses my neck, whispering. “Did you miss me?”

I almost smile at his antics, elbowing him in the ribs while keeping my eyes on the screen.

It’s not very clear but there are three people in the picture. A man, a woman, and judging by the height and braces, a teenage girl with cornrows down to her neck standing between the two.

Dmitry’s hand palms my chin, lifting it so my eyes meet his stare and licking a path across my bottom lip.

My eyes narrowed, I catch his tongue between my teeth and bite hard enough to get his attention but not hard enough to cause real pain. The fucker winks at me.

“I’m working,” I tell him, my eyes back on the phone.

“Are you betting, ma’am?” My head snaps up and I snarl at the croupier for calling me that.

“No.”

“Yes.” Dmitry and I both answer at the same time as he pushes all my tokens onto number twenty-four.

I frown but return my attention to the picture. There’s something about the guy…I feel like I’ve seen him before.

“No more bets,” the employee announces, waving a hand over the table before spinning the wheel in one direction and the ball in the other.

“Why did you bet all of it on that number?” I mean, it’s their money, it’s not like I care. They are the house.

“The twenty-fourth is the first time I ever laid eyes on you.” My eyes snap to his, my brows furrowed.What the fuck?

“What are we, in middle school?” In my peripheral, Wright slams back another whisky as the ball drops into black and he loses…again. He’s agitated and I can tell this loss is making him crazy.

“Look.” Taking my eyes off Wright, I see that the ball has landed on twenty-four but my mind is still on the old man as pieces begin to click into place and my brain finally puts two and two together.

My gaze drops back to the picture as Dmitry drags his chips toward us.

Then it hits me.

Motherfucker.

When I look up, ready to pounce, he’s gone.

Turning back to Dmitry, I push him in the chest and grit out a long, frustrated string of curses, all of them aimed at him.

Wright and Harvey Cook are one and the same.

Chapter Twelve

J

“How in the ever loving fuck is Mr. Wright, Harvey Cook—whatever the fuck his name is—connected to the Irish mob?” Flower picks the lock of the town house we discovered belongs to Cook, asking me the exact question that has been on my mind since Glitch sent me his photo last night.

The curtains are all drawn so we haven’t been able to get a glimpse inside. We’re hoping to catch him sleeping, but with the way this front lawn is overgrown I’ve got my suspicions that he’s not here anymore.

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