Page 3 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

“Maybe they do it to throw the cops off the scent of cash. They disguise it with this toxic cloud instead. That’ll keep anyone away from here.” I say all this while speaking through my shirt since it’s covering my nose and mouth.

I definitely need a gas mask by the time we make it to the doorway. I twist the knob and pull it open to reveal a set of stairs leading to a lower level. I quickly close the door behind me and suddenly we’re breathing in much different air.

It’s completely neutralized the thick, noxious smell that we just left behind and I no longer have to worry about holding down my dinner.

When we finally make it into the underground casino, I take a look around at the expansive space. Dark walls and minimal lighting guarantee a certain degree of anonymity. And since the people frequenting this place have a lot of money and probably more enemies, it makes sense that they want to fly under the radar. Slot machines line the walls of the space and blackjack, roulette, and craps tables sit right in the center of the action. Hot, half-naked girls snake their way around the gamblers, delivering drinks and collecting tips.

I scout the rest of the room and finally spot my mark. The poker tables, which are tucked away in a far corner of the space, partially blocked by a couple of large wooden columns.

The guys follow me down the steps and we wander over to the bar for a drink.

“Vodka,” I say nodding toward the bottle of Kors on the shelf behind the girl smiling seductively at me.

“And your friend?” she asks in a low sultry voice, glancing at my brother.

Dante and I exchange a quick look and I hold up two fingers, flash a tight smile. No time for the flirty shit.

We have a job to do.

She pours the shots and slides the glasses toward us. We stand against the mahogany bar for a few minutes, not speaking. Just observing.

“What do you notice?” I ask Dante, holing the glass to my lips so that nobody watching can see what I’m saying.

Dante is quiet for a second as he scours the room. He’s a master assassin and has eyes all over his body. He’s the guy you want watching your back in a situation like this. Nothing gets past him. “Thosecocktail waitresses. Think there’s a double meaning with that job title.”

I smirk. “How do you know?”

He takes a long gulp of his drink and keeps his eyes focused on the tables in front of us. “I’ve seen at least three players so far get escorted off the floor by some of the girls.”

“Are they losing? You think they need a pity jerk?”

“Nah, these guys are winning. They’re getting victory lays.” He smirks at me. “And for just enough time to cool off the table. That sonofabitch. Salvo’s smart, that’s for sure.”

“Good eye.” I guzzle the rest of the amber-colored liquid and nod at the bartender to refill me. Salvo has quite an operation here. No wonder why it’s eating into our coffers.

He’s offering pussy to his patrons either as a parting gift or as a consolation prize.

There are girls in less than the tiniest bikinis crawling up and down poles in every corner of the place.

And the cocktail waitresses are ‘serving’ in the skimpiest scraps of fabric I’ve ever seen.

Trust me, I’ve seen plenty.

“So this is how Salvo is doing it,” I mutter.

And for some reason, my father decided to ignore it.

Well, I say it’s for some reason, but really, it’s just safer. If he doesn’t get involved, he won’t get his hands dirty.

My hands are already so stained, there is no amount of soap that can clean them.

My eyes narrow as I watch pit bosses hail over select girls to escort some of the more threatening players away from the tables to help them ‘lose’ their winnings.

Christ only know what they’re doing to the whales once they get them into those back rooms. From what I see, once the pussy party’s over, they either stumble toward the exit or they take their chances back at the table and lose everything.

Because lightning never strikes twice.

It’s actually a pretty brilliant business model.

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