Page 136 of Roulette: The Madam

A Manhattan.

Alligator for a starter.

Chef’s special, seafood edition.

I tutted, realizing I had stolen Roulette’s entire order. The drink was the only difference. She was a sucker for a Chef’s Special as long as there was seafood involved. Learning her inside, out was one of the most rewarding experiences in life thus far.

She was as complicated as they came, but somehow, I understood her. I understood her logic. I understood her moves. I understood why she was who she was. I understood her heart. I understood her hesitation. I understood she wasn’t monogamous by nature.

And though I struggled with the idea, I didn’t struggle with her. And, since I’d reconnected with her, I knew, beyond a shadow of doubt, that my dick was the only one she’d experienced. Her pussy said so. And, the urge to end a life hadn’t visited me in some time.

I lowered the menu and quickly discovered I was not alone. My eyebrows crinkled, forming worry lines appear on my forehead. I placed a hand on my hip, ready to put my fire to work. Before my hand reached the butt of my gun, three guns were on the table. Sitting, but they were all facing me.

“They didn’t stop making guns when they made yours. If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead. But, your death wouldn’t bring me peace. It would bring me pain. She’d never forgive me.”

The Chemist.

“Chemist.” I nodded, lowering my hand.

“I am not here on business, Israel. I am here because you are getting very close to someone I love dearly.”

“Roulette.”

“The world will bleed if anything happens to her.”

“She’s not involved with a man that has anything going on that would bring her harm.”

I was retired. There was no need to worry about Roulette’s safety when she was with me, away from me, or at all. She was covered. My bullshit would never touch her doorstep. I wasn’t built like that.

“She, in fact, is.”

“I’m retired.”

He tipped his head in my direction and grabbed the water from the waitress before she had a chance to sit it down. He placed a hand in the air when her mouth parted, prepared to speak.

“We’ll need a minute.”

“Yes, sir. Of course.”

When we were alone again, he lowered the water onto the table.

“That might be.”

Baffled, I waited for an explanation.

“Liaison, huh?”

“Yeah. To get the women of this operation out of the direct line of danger.”

He chuckled, reminding me of Rome’s response.

“Direct line of danger?” He asked.

“I didn’t stutter. My words were incredibly clear.”

“They were. Accurate, though, not so much.”

“How do you figure?”

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