Page 30 of Savage Daddies

Signposts for Vegas direct us right. We thread through lanes of traffic until we’re at the front of the lights, ready for them to turn green.

Vegas by day is an entirely different experience to Vegas at night. Casinos, without their flashing neon lights and ginormous glow-in-the-dark billboards, appear like regular buildings.

Except no building on the strip is regular, as Brander, Match, and Lifesaver discovered last year at Ursula and Hook. That place was Bratva owned, and they hoarded millions in illegal cash that almost everyone turned a blind eye to as the strippers hypnotized guests into trances.

Casinos are probably the same, but most organized crime groups keep away and avoid interference, so there’s no need for interrogation. Lucky Boy—Warren Warrington’s place—and Cash Pot Palace—Paul’s—are legit.

Warren and Felix’s merger, though, calls into question what Paul was doing handing over half a million bucks to the man who pretty much has everything.

He’s trying to merge with Cash Pot Palace too?

We hop off the bikes and stride through the main doors. Paul’s casino wows me every time I enter. It has to be the biggest on the strip, and it welcomes in some of the most prestigious guests. Adele even played a few rounds of roulette once. Hollywood A-list celebrities like Leonardo DiCaprio, Margot Robbie, and Vin Diesel have previously made appearances. One of Paul’s most likable qualities is that he doesn’t boast when notable guests visit. No photos line the wall of him photographed next to respected individuals, and that’s because Paul respects everybody the same, fame aside. The boys and I haven’t met him much, but he treats us like friends every time we enter, and seats every Venom Vulture club member in a VIP booth, free of charge, with an open bar.

So we always get shit-faced.

Not today, though. Suited dealers spin roulette wheels and dish out cards at stands. Dressed in full leather, we weave through the midday crowds looking out of place—something we’re used to.

Diamond chandeliers hang from the fake-sky ceiling above. Below, our feet walk on a red spiral carpet that Paul and his team expertly designed to keep eyes up and on the machines, not on the floor. Looking at such complicated carpet patterns, especially when intoxicated, causes nausea, so this encourages everyone to keep their eyes up and on the slot machines.

Every single fucking thing in this place is designed to distract. To squeeze as much money out of guests as possible. Paul graduated with a master’s degree in psychology, and it shows. He arranged his place into a labyrinth, and according to some recent study,hisis the most difficult in Vegas to navigate. He employs the most attractive women who wear the tightest, littlest black dresses, and their pretty, red-lipstick mouths know just what to say to rope men into a game they’re probably gonna lose.

I see Bullwhip eyeing one of them.

Trust it to be the one with red hair.

“She touched my dick last night,” I murmur in Wrangler’s ear.

Bullwhip swings around, height looming over us. “Who touched your dick last night?”

“Who do you think?” Something tugs at Wrangler’s lip, like he’s taking his aggression out on Bully. “Zoe.”

“What?” Bullwhip’s eyes dart over to me. “You’re her teacher!”

“Not anymore,” laughs Wrangler.

“I don’t control her hands, Bully, jeez.”

“Fuck.” Wrangler waggles his brows. “Wish I had called shotgun now.”

“Why? To ruin your celibacy streak again?” I ask.

Bullwhip’s eyes fill with poison, and I prepare for him to spit. “Fucking hell, Poet. Wanna get us in even more trouble?”

“What’s the big deal?” Wrangler folds his arms. “They’re both consenting adults, and he doesn’t teach heranymore.”

“She’s Felix Fernando’swife.Husband and wife. Her pretending to freak out over a spider yesterday was step one of their joint plan to, I don’t know…get closer to us.”

“That doesn’t sound like the Zoe I remember.”

“What’s this?” asks a fourth voice.

Enter Paul.

All three of us spin around, lips zipped.

“You bumped into Zoe Fernando yesterday?” Paul asks. “What did she want?”

Dick.

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