Page 96 of Roulette: The Madam

“Bet.” His smile let me know that he was on exactly what I was on.

“Raquim.” I paused to say.

“Don’t get yourself killed tonight. You just got that fucking whip.”

“Alright, Boss.”

His sarcasm concealed his truest thoughts. He raced to his vehicle as I scooted upward in my seat. The lead-filled bulletsthat I was in search of had collected in the dip in the cushion underneath me.

These motherfuckers.

Scrrrrrrr.

Scrrrr.

The screeching of my tires followed the screeching of Raquim’s. He was directly under the red light where Roulette’s Mercedes waited for the right away. He never exited his vehicle.

Wise man.

I exited my car, leaving the door open as I rounded it to get to the opposite side. I opened the passenger door and adjusted the seat to accommodate the lengthy passenger I was anticipating. Satisfied with the distance from the dashboard, I made my way to the SUV waiting with the engine running.

I stared through the dimly tinted window, waiting for Roulette to open the door or roll it down. She did neither. I intertwined my fingers in front of me as the light changed. To get through it she had to go through Raquim’s whip. I was no fool and knew she’d do just that if she wanted to, but she didn’t. She remained still.

She will self-sabotage.

Rome’s words surfaced. I pulled in a deep breath and then pushed it out slowly. It was becoming abundantly clear that Roulette had little intention to open her door or roll down the window. I stepped forward, removed my gun from my hip, and slammed it against the window.

The glass shattered, falling onto the ground. Behind it, Roulette sat with her eyes toward her lap as she tapped on her screen. She hadn’t flinched. Moved. Yelled. Or panicked to any degree.

“Princess,” I called out.

“Yes, Israel.”

I lost my train of thought. She was breathtaking. Time got between us. I was busy admiring her beauty.

“Yes, Israel.”

I reached inside and unlocked the door. I opened it, allowing the remainder of the glass to fall onto the ground. No words were spoken as she slid her legs from underneath the steering wheel and stepped out. The Glock that was on her lap was now in her right hand. Her phone was in her left as she stared up at me.

…the woman who has your nose wide open and your chest ready to explode at the thought of her. She’s a dream. You’re right to be smitten by her.

Truer words had never been spoken.

“Good evening, Israel.”

“Have dinner with me,” I demanded instead of indulging in small talk.

“My window didn’t have to be a casualty. You could’ve asked.”

“I’m not asking now, Roulette.”

With a nod, she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth. I removed the gun from her right hand and shoved it in the waistline of the back of my pants. When with me, she wouldn’t need it. She wouldn’t need anything. Not even the brain between her ears. I had her covered.

I took her hand into mine and led her toward the passenger seat. She remained silent, likely planning her escape, as I walked alongside of her. I’d just gotten her in my possession and I wasalready hating the moment she slithered away, because I knew it was coming.

She lowered into the passenger seat. I pulled the seatbelt over her body and leaned inside to buckle it in. I halted before my body was completely upright again.

“Princess.”

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