Page 38 of Dirty Big Sins

Bennie narrowed his eyes before taking a seat next to me. “I may be old, but I’m not stupid. Why would you want to hang around here and close up? What’s going on? You worried about the fight?”

I thought about telling him the truth for about two and a half seconds. But the truth was too dangerous. Between Romeo riding my ass to get involved with the family and the FBI threatening to dismantle my reputation because I couldn’t verify I had nothing to do with whatever the fuck my manager was up to, I was on edge.

That didn’t even include the fact that the mafia was expecting me to take a fall in Friday night’s fight against the berserker punk. Fuck. I hated him.

“I wouldn’t say worried. He might be somewhat talented in the ring, but there does seem something not right about him.”

“How so? I haven’t heard anything unexpected. You?”

I shrugged. “Got a feeling that’s all I guess. That new club of his might be popular, but I’m hearing his erratic behavior is starting to drive people away.”

“You been there? The pics look like someone sank a lot of money into the joint. He got a rich daddy I haven’t heard about?”

“Not that I’ve found. Although someone is bankrolling him.” I wish I could say I felt even a twinge of guilt for not being honest with Bennie, but I couldn’t. The less he knew the better. He’d already seen too many unsavory people coming to the gym for a “visit” and like he’d said, he wasn’t stupid.

The Cullotta family had taken an interest in the berserker and were grooming him for the fight scene, the party scene and whatever else they came up with. However, if what Romeo said was true, and he owned the Cullottas, this whole situation sat balanced on an oddly shaped house of cards.

Bennie clapped me on the back. “You’re a million miles away, kid. Or at least across town with the woman that’s got you all twisted up. You should take off and go find her. Dinner or not. Some things are more important than work.”

“Fuck you, Bennie.” I laughed. “You don’t know what the hell you are talking about. I’m right here.”

The old man chuckled too. “Either way. It’s time to rest. Big fight is less than forty-eight hours away and you need to take it easy. You can come in tomorrow, but don’t expect anything rough. Last minute strategy shit is all. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it.”

He stood slowly and squeezed my shoulder before ambling off again. I didn’t know what I would do without him in my corner. To everyone else he was a cranky old man. I got mean and cranky from him too, but then in those rare times like now, I saw the other side. He’d lived a long time in this town and this business. There wasn’t much he hadn’t seen. For that, I took his council seriously when he finally deigned to give it.

“Go home,” Bennie urged from the doorway as he passed through it.

“I’ll just grab a shower and then I’m outta here too.” I raised my voice to make sure he heard. “You change your mind and want to leave, just shoot me a text.”

Two hours later, I entered The Sinclair from the private garage entrance. This landed me directly in front of a bank of elevators that could whisk me to my suite in a matter of seconds, but that wasn’t where I wanted to go.

I skirted along the edge of the casino floor, taking in all the action still going in high gear. It may only be Thursday in Vegas, but that didn’t necessarily mean less people.

These hotels were designed to make people forget what day of the week it was as well as any given hour. It took nothing to get absorbed into the atmosphere each hotel custom created to keep people at the tables or in front of the machines. The science behind it all fascinated me and I enjoyed touring different facilities to get and keep a handle on the latest and greatest.

I could understand Romeo’s interest in owning this place. The fact I’d lost out on it still bristled.

The Sinclair in particular had a vibe that cleverly rode the line between super high class and modern edge. It drew the filthy rich and the ultra-hip crowds equally. It was one of the reasons I loved fighting in their arena. Gabe and his staff had drilled down to perfection every detail necessary to make this small boutique hotel stand head and shoulders with the much larger resorts.

“Hey, Vincentius! Good luck on the fight Saturday night. I can’t wait to see you destroy The Berserker.”

I smiled and tipped my head to the stranger on the other side of the craps table. His recognition of me drew the attention of a few other guests, but as long as I kept moving, I didn’t expect any trouble.

I tipped my head to the left for the watchful security agent as well. Gabe had a subtle team locked and loaded on the floor at all times. If I needed assistance, I knew what signals to make.

“Excuse me, Mr. Cabrini.”

I stopped and turned to see one of the floor supervisors had caught up with me.

“Are you interested in a table this evening? We have a high stakes game about to start that I think you’d be interested in.”

Any other night I probably would have entertained it. Losing myself in a good game of poker was almost as good as sex at relieving stress. But I was on a mission to get to Zia so I could figure out what went wrong with her day. “No, I don’t— ”

“One of the gentlemen who suggested your presence said you might decline. I was instructed to give you this if that was the case.” He handed over a folded sheet of paper that I one hundred percent guaranteed he’d not taken a peek at. Any manager worth his salt in this town knew the kind of business deals that took place at these tables and interfering or nosing into someone else’s business was too fucking dangerous.

I slowly opened the note, even though I knew I wasn’t going to like the contents.

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