Page 111 of Gambler's Fallacy

My hatred for him only grows. “I think I’m busy that night,” I snap at her.

She recoils from me, looking tiny as her shoulders slump. “All right, mijo. Tell me when you’re free, then.”

Shit. I’m fucking this up.

I look at Marcus. He’s older than I am, but he hits the gym. I could still take him though. I was evenly matched with Vortex, and Marcus is no Vortex.

I could wrap my hands around his neck and choke the life out of him.

But if I kill him, I don’t know how I’d get my mother’s green card back. I don’t know what will happen to her if I’m investigated.

I make a frustrated sound and kick the coffee table. It scoots several inches forward, but the damage is unsatisfying.

“Get out of here,” Marcus barks. “I don’t need a violent bastard like you in the house.”

“I’m going,” I growl back. Before I leave, I turn to my mother. In Spanish, I say, “You aren’t alone. I am here for you. If you ever need me?—”

“Just fucking get out,” Marcus shouts.

My mother flinches, clinging to the flowers for dear life. “I love you, Javi,” she calls out after me.

In English.

I storm out and slam the door as I get into my car.

If I go back to the casino now, I’m going to do something I regret.

So I pull out of the driveway and start driving away.

I have no clue where I’m going, but I know I can’t let anyone else see me like this.

I can’t let Seven see me cry.

TWENTY-FIVE

SEVEN

“Good job!”Georgie says with a smile. “And thanks for all your help today, Seven.”

She has a new piercing, high on her ear. She said it hadn’t hurt when she’d gotten it.

Maybe I should get a piercing.

Shewould never want me to get a piercing. It would ruin my skin.

“No problem,” I mumble, and I collect my sweater so I can go back out to the casino. I’m supposed to meet Havoc and Vortex in an hour so we can all go do… something. They’ve both been on edge for the past few days but had caved when I’d suggested we do something together.

I need them to not be mad.

I’m almost to the lobby when I pause. I try to shake the feeling of being watched — or worse, followed — and for the first time, I really am grateful for the tracker in my calf.

Just in case.

My heartbeat picks up anyway, though, and I scan the lobby for signs of anyone I might recognize. There are security guards by thefront door, and getting me out through here would be next to impossible without causing a scene, but I still don’t feel comfortable.

I’m about to head toward the reception desk to sit behind it so I feel better about the whole situation when I hear someone call out, “Seven!”

I swear I can recognize the voice, and I tense up — only to realize that no one frombeforewould call me that. I don’t quite relax, but I look around again to try to pinpoint the source of the voice.

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