…The other twenty being that despite not being much of a card player, I’m doing pretty great.
The dealer drops a card in front of me. Instantly, the whole table groans. Some of the players clap, and the Japanese Yakuza looking guy next to me nods his approval as he pats my arm.
I just hit the four of clubs on seventeen.
Twenty-one, baby.
I grin as the dealer pushes my sizable winnings toward me. But again, I’m not only smiling because of this.
I’m smiling because after two weeks of prying, hunting, and outright stalking, I’ve finally cornered my prey tonight.
Tim Ciglione, who now works for some douchebag hedge fund in the city, isn’t just a scumbag piece of shit because he tried to force Bianca to blow him in a hot tub seven years ago. He’s also the kind of scumbag with a gambling problem who gets barred from upstanding, mainstream casinos. That’s why he’s here, probably triple leveraging his own house or his grandmother’s pension chasing the gambler’s high.
Oh, and for extra fuckhead points, Tim also likes to slap his wife around when he’s drunk—and not in a way she might like. He’s also fucking his secretary.
Classy.
Anyway, he’s about to have a very, very bad night. It’s no accident I’ve chosen this table. From where I’m sitting, I can look across the room to see Tim balls-deep in losing his shirt at a high-stakes poker table. Even from here, I can smell the stench of desperation radiating off him, even with his back to me. His hair is fucked up from constantly running his fingers through it. He’s ditched his jacket and his tie, his hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
With a smirk, I glance back down at my chips. I’ve got some time yet. It’s when he’s done at the table that I’ll be making my move.
“Well,” I smile, organizing my winnings into neat stacks. “Shall we play again?”
“I’m afraid the table’s gone cold. My apologies to you all.”
My ears perk up at the familiar voice. My eyes lift, my brow arching curiously.
The dealer has left. And in his place, looking right at me, sits a very stoic Lukas Komarov.
Around us, the other blackjack players shrug as they collect their chips and stand from the table. I clear my throat, sitting back in my chair with my arms folded over my chest.
“Lukas,” I growl quietly with a nod at the man clad in a black suit with a black shirt, buttoned all the way up but without a tie.
He leans back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the table. “What are you doing in my casino, Kratos.”
I arch a brow. “I was under the impression that this was Dima Novikov’s casino.”
“On paper, sure.” His fingertips walk across the green baize of the card table. “So again, Kratos. What exactly are you doing here?”
“Blackjack, mainly. I hear it’s the best odds for the player.”
He looks the opposite of amused.
“Is that a problem, Lukas?”
“No,” he murmurs. “But you don’t gamble.”
“You don’t know that.”
He smiles. “Actually, I do.”
I could argue, but we’re talking Lukas here. I might be good at stalking and hunting for prey or information. But Lukas Komarov is on another level.
“Because I like and respect you, let me make this clear for you, Kratos,” he murmurs quietly, leaning forward. “Trust me when I say the usual mayhem you’re looking for when you go out at night will not be found here. Drinks? Yes. Degenerate gamblers? Also yes. And I’m not gonna lie to you, you’ll probably find fantastic cocaine and pretty much any other poison you might be partial to, if you ask the right people.” His smile fades. “But my concern is that you’re after your usual choice in vices, which matches my own. If you’re looking for that here, you’re wasting your time.”
I shake my head. “I’m not looking for traffickers.”
“What, then.”
“I’m here to right a wrong.”
“Personal?”
“You could say that. Someone hurt someone I care about.” My pulse drums. “Someone I love.”
Lukas’ brow furrows. “And the nature of this wrong?”
“Sexual assault.”
His face goes grim. “Really,” he growls.
I nod. “He likes to gamble, and he’s in deep tonight…” I level a gaze across the table at Lukas. “And I’m not leaving without taking care of this. But I also didn’t realize this was your place. So, for the trouble, I can pay—”
“I don’t want your money, Kratos.”
“Then I’ll be in your debt for a favor.”
He shakes his head. “Not that either.”
