Page 40 of Gambler's Fallacy

And freeze when I see a newcomer standing by the stairs. He’s a tall black man with a well-trimmed beard and short, curly hair. His teal suit is impeccable on him. Martin is standing next to him, whispering something in his ear.

The others notice him a few seconds after I do, and the goons all turn to him.

“Boss!” they all say.

This is Virgil Club, the current de facto head of the Clubs organization.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” Virgil says, smiling slightly. “It looked like you were all having fun.”

Fun. Right.

I’m still breathing heavily, and I take a step back as I take up a warily defensive stance again. I don’t know if he’s going to sic his goons on us again or if we have a reprieve, but I’m not going to be taken off guard.

Havoc follows my lead, tensing up.

Earl whimpers and crawls forward a few steps. “Mr. Club! You have to save me!”

Virgil gives Earl a disdainful look. “I don’t think I do, Earl.” He turns his attention to me. “You’re Caleb Spade’s man?”

“Yes,” I tell him, breathless but as authoritative as I can muster. “We’re just here to get Earl out of your hair so he can get his debts settled.”

Somehow.

Virgil nods. “Well, I won’t stop you.” He steps aside, to my confusion—and the confusion of all his men.

Havoc grabs Earl by the back of his shirt and hauls him upright. “All right. Let’s get out of here, Uncle Earl.”

I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I follow up at the rear, staying partially turned so no one is directly at my back. The hair on the back of my neck stays standing anyway as I anticipate some turn of events that makes this go from bad to worse.

As we pass Virgil, he says, “Tell Caleb he owes me a favor.”

My hackles go up, but I know I’m in no position to argue. “I’ll tell him.” Caleb isn’t going to like owing the Clubs anything, especially for the price of getting his uncle out of this, but there’s not much I can do or say.

Havoc keeps shaking Earl as he drags him through the club. I don’t breathe easy until we’re outside, in the cool night air once more. Havoc leads us all around the corner, away from prying eyes.

“Okay, okay, you can let me go now!” Earl says, trying to get away from Havoc.

Havoc gives me a brief glance. “Earl got beat up by the Clubs, didn’t he?”

I look at Earl’s unblemished skin. “Yeah. Good thing we got there before they could do any lasting damage.”

“Uh, what?” Earl trembles and shuffles as far away as he can.

That doesn’t stop Havoc from landing a blow on his jaw.

“You stupid motherfucker,” Havoc hisses at him. “Did you gamble away your fucking brain or something?”

Earl cries out and turns to me. “Vortex! Vortex, stop him!”

“Havoc hasn’t done anything,” I say mildly, crossing my arms against my chest. “Because of the two of us, you got off easy with the Clubs.”

Caleb might not approve of this — or at least, that’s what he’s going to have to say — but I can’t say I blame Havoc for wanting to get some of his frustration out on its source. I should stop him, and I will, but I don’t want to.

Yet.

Havoc gets another two heavy blows in before he throws Earl tothe ground and kicks him. “You’re driving straight home and you’re going to tell your dad or whoever to pay it all back. Next time, we won’t be there to save your hide.”

Earl nods fervently. “I will! I promise! Please, just let me go!”

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