Page 1 of Enticing the Fixer

Prologue

Leo

The smoke from the Cuban cigars swirls up from the crystal ashtrays and wafts through the air. By midnight, it’ll be so thick we won’t be able to see the cards.

Playing cards with my buddies has been my saving grace over the last six months. When shit went south with my ex-girlfriend, they were there for me. Them, and my dog Mac. I should have known she was bad news when Mac didn’t like her.

Maverick Carmichael studies his hand. “I’ll raise you 1,000 bucks.”

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “You don’t have shit. The best you can have is a full house. A low one at that.”

During junior high, I learned to count cards which is why I’m in charge of security for our line of casinos. I can see someone on the make in under ten minutes, making my shitshow of a relationship with Rebecca Jacobs such an embarrassment.

Somehow, I missed all the signs. I was looking for something–a connection–deeper meaning–whatever it was, I didn’t find it. I tried. Until I discovered she was recording everything from our arguments to sex and uploading it onto social media. And now everyone’s seen my hardware. I may have won the lawsuit against her, but I can’t completely eradicate the evidence online.

“I’ll raise you $5,000.” I toss down a wad of $100 bills.

Jax Logan is on the other side of me and has already folded. He walks a couple of steps to join our other friends, August Wentworth and Hunter Montgomery. They gave up two hands ago. Jax asks, “Did you catch the game the other day?”

“Of course.” August nods.

They drone on in the background about the new Vegas pro football team, and their chances against the rest of the division as Maverick and I go back and forth, elevating the stakes.

“I’ll raise you another 1k.” It doesn’t matter if I have good cards or not. I can outlast anyone. Maverick isn’t the type to give up, but I know what he’s standing on. And he’s going to lose his shirt.

“I fold.” Maverick tosses down his cards with a flourish. “Piss on you. What did you have?” He grabs my cards and flips them over–a two of clubs, a five of hearts, a five of diamonds, a six of clubs, and a seven of spades. He shakes his head. “Cocksucker.”

He’s lost because I have a better poker face than all of them combined.

“We told you not to keep playing him.” Hunter puffs on a cigar. The plume of smoke spins above his head.

After I met Maverick, Hunter, August, and Jax back in college, we pooled our financial resources together and opened our first business. From there, the sky was the limit. We’ve run everything from hotels to restaurants to casinos and resorts.

“Yeah, I’m out.” Maverick shoves back from the table.

“Spoilsports.” I straighten my money into stacks of increasing denominations.

Every Friday night, I fleece them. Not that they care. They’ve got plenty more where that comes from, and it gives us a chance to hang out, shoot the shit, and drink too much.

I scan through my emails for several minutes and answer the important messages.

Dear Mr. Radcliff,

We would love to do a spot with you regarding your recent breakup and lawsuit with Rebecca Jacobs.

I grind my teeth together.Bullshit.I delete the message without reading the rest. There is no way I’m answering any questions regarding my ex’s video taping us having sex and sharing it with the world. If that’s not bad enough, my performance was abysmal. The spark had left our relationship, and I was phoning in my performance.

The next email.

Dear Mr. Radcliff,

We’d love to have you on our morning show. It’s your opportunity to set the world straight on how your relationship with Rebecca Jacobs ended. She’s already agreed to tell her side of the story.

That’s more bullshit. I stab the forward button and send a scathing message to my lawyer. I might be an attorney, but I’m not stupid. Impartiality is the key to professionalism, and if I respond, there won’t be a professional word in the email. I end the message with….

Remind that cunt that she’s not allowed to speak of this matter in public due to the terms of lawsuit.

Apparently, she’s too stupid to read the fine print, and that is why I’m sticking to my dog and watching Sports Center.

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