Page 90 of Gambler's Fallacy

“Funny,” I say. “I could have sworn I’d reached out toyoua few times.”

Ms. Reese shrugs. “A game of phone tag, then.” She pulls a chair to our table and sits down, reaching for Seven’s half-eaten mushroom and popping it in her mouth. “Oh, this is good,” she declares.

I stand up. “Seven, we’re leaving.” I glare at the woman. “If you want to talk to me about gaming-related matters, make an appointment through my assistant—during business hours.”

Ms. Reese sighs loudly. “Are you sure you want to make this so official? I’d have to submit all the paperwork, point out all the discrepancies I found, maybe talk to the press about the irregular betting and all the other oddities surrounding your casino’s finances…”

Seven is trembling, still pressed against his chair like if he sits against it enough, he can vanish. “‘s fine,” he chokes out. “You should… talk. To her, I mean.”

Shit. I’d thought things would blow over, and I’d been more than willing to bribe whoever I’d needed to to make this all go away. But with this woman knowing such a critical detail about Seven—the fact that she knows him at all—I know I’m not dealing with an ordinary commissions officer.

“May I see that ID again?” I ask as I sit down.

She shrugs and hands the card to me. I snap a picture of it with my phone, noting that the text I’d missed earlier was from one of my contacts at the gaming commission.

I pass the ID back to her. “How can I help you then, Ms. Reese?”

“So formal. I’d heard that about you,” Ms. Reese says. She faces me, but her body is closer to Seven’s. He must notice too, because he scoots his chair away from her.

“Everybody online is clamoring for an investigation too,” she says idly. “We’ve got a few people breathing down our necks about this. Well, and we’ve had others who were offering a lot of money to look away, but that’s par for the course.” She sits back and pulls a small notepad out of her purse. “How much do you think it’s worth for all this to go away?”

“You want a bribe?” I ask, confused. “Name your sum.”

“It’s not a sum,” Ms. Reese counters. “My employers?—”

“The Calamity City government?” I press, but I know already that she isn’t talking about them.

She snorts derisively. “We all know the Gaming Commission is run by the casinos. No, my actual employers. They want to retrieve their stolen property. They can make all this go away, and give you a tidy bit of extra to boot.” She smiles at me. “I think you know the price already.”

Ms. Reese reaches out to pet Seven’s hair. He jerks away from her, his expression one of blind terror, but she persists until she’s running her fingers through the soft strands.

He whimpers brokenly, and I can barely contain my fury as I grit out, “Get your hands off of him,Ms. Reese.”

She smiles at me again, but she releases him.

Seven almost falls off of his chair in his haste to get up, and he finally flees his seat to take the one right next to me on the opposite side.

We’re starting to attract attention.

“Go report your findings to the gaming commission,” I tell her in a low voice. “But while you do that, remember who does pay the bills there. You think my grandfather is going to be happy about that investigation? What if I tell Mr. Diamante or Mr. Hart how little regard you have for the established order of things?”

She sneers back at me. “You’re really picking this fight over the kid?”

I wrap my arm around Seven. “Yes. He’s under my protection. And if you don’t get the fuck out of here right now, I’ll ensure youend up like the last person who tried to take Seven away from me. Understood?”

Ms. Reese grits her teeth, but she nods. “I see. I’ll mention that to my employers.” She looks at Seven. “Your mother is extremely worried about you. She knows how delicate you are.”

Seven is shaking so hard that his teeth are chattering. He presses his face against my arm, and I tighten my grasp around him.

The server comes by with our next round of food, and the hostess and a security staffer are in tow.

“Mr. Spade…” the hostess says, eyeing Ms. Reese. “Is this woman bothering you?”

“She is,” I say. “Please remove her.”

Ms. Reese stands up and makes a dismissive motion. “I’m leaving, I’m leaving. I think you’re making a mistake though, Mr. Spade.”

“You’re the one making the mistake,” I counter. I stroke Seven’s back in an attempt to soothe him.

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