Chapter 4

FOUR

CALEB

I lock the penthouse door and remind the guards that Seven isn’t to leave the premises. They’re clearly curious about Seven, but they’ve learned to follow orders without question.

Vortex shakes his head as we walk to the elevator. “I thought it wasn’t going to take that long?” he says, a smile curving onto his lips.

“The call didn’t last that long,” I retort. “It’s the rest of it that’s going to be time consuming.”

“Okay,” he says, accepting that in the same easy way he accepts everything else. In some ways, I prefer dealing with him over dealing with my own second-in-command. He’s discreet, he does what he’s told, and he doesn’t have the same temper flares that Grant is prone to.

We head down to the casino, where everybody is quick to jump to attention because the boss is in the vicinity. I hope they aren’t slacking when I’m not around, but as long as they get the job done without complaints from the guests, I don’t care.

“There’s a high roller who wants to meet with me,” I say. “Wouldn’t deal with Grant. I can’t tell if he’s happy or upset. Then we need to stop by the security office to let them know about Seven. We can do a quick round of the casino to see if anything else needs taking care of, and…” I sigh in annoyance when my phone buzzes with another text. As soon as I see who it’s from, I scowl. “And I guess I’m meeting with Earl, too.”

I’d told Earl over and over that his role at the casino is done and has been done for the past six years, but he can’t deal with the fact that he’d sold the failing casino to me at a pittance, only for me to turn it around and make it one of the more profitable ones in Calamity City.

Vortex only grunts. If he has an opinion on my uncle, he’s smart enough not to share it.

My mind wanders back to Seven, locked up in my penthouse suite. His scars might have put off other men, but I’m not one to give up on a toy simply because it’s a little scuffed. In fact, fixing up something rundown is half the fun, whether that’s a casino or a beautiful young man with lost green eyes.

“My offer to let you watch wasn’t fake,” I say to Vortex. “In case you were worried about that. It also wouldn’t affect your job in any way.”

Vortex startles. “Is that what you want, boss? For me to watch?”

I rake my eyes over Vortex’s body. He’s tall and muscular, and his shirt stretches to cover those biceps. The close cut hair and beard make him look intimidating—which is the point, or he wouldn’t be effective in what is essentially a security job.

He does more than standard security, but to the outside eye, he’s just a bodyguard.

“It can spice scenes up,” I say mildly. “It’s not a job requirement. But I’m curious to see how Seven would handle it, as well.”

I don’t miss Vortex shifting uncomfortably, but I know I’m right: he’s interested in our little hitchhiker. I’d seen the way he’d blushed when Seven had taken those rough hands into his own slender ones, after all.

“That’s his choice, not mine,” he says diplomatically, though.

“It isn’t,” I answer glibly. We reach my meeting with the high roller, which cuts off the rest of that conversation.

It turns out the man wants to thank me profusely for how well we’ve treated him—and how we saved his marriage, apparently, by making sure his wife was occupied while he spent the day with the ponies. I’m not sure that warrants the meeting, but I play nice and exchange business cards with him.

After that, it’s a quick check on the restaurant and bar, and finally we get to the security office.

Matthew, the official head of security, is already waiting for us. “Mr. Spade, sir,” he greets. “How can I help you?”

I hold up my phone, where I’ve got a photo of Seven I snapped during dinner. “This young man is currently holed up in my suite. I want you to distribute his face to all the security staff, and make it known that he is not to leave the premises. Treat him with respect, but do not let him leave.”

Matthew frowns, but nods. “Of course, sir.” I send him the photo so he can get that sorted. Like Vortex, Matthew understands that my orders aren’t to be questioned.

It helps that they know my family is one of the four major crime families of Calamity City. We rule the underworld—and most of the city, thanks to our connections to the politicians. I can’t think of a single elected official who isn’t connected to at least one of the four families.

“While you’re here, sir,” Matthew says. “I have a small issue…”

Of course he does. I nod for him to continue anyway.

Matthew directs my attention to one of the security monitors. A tall Latino man wearing a leather jacket is getting into it with Grant.

I let out an annoyed sound. “What’s going on there?”

“Grant was informed that the guest in question was playing a bit too well at the blackjack table. I offered to take care of it, but he wanted to deal with it himself.” Matthew grimaces. “It’s only been a few minutes, but should I send somebody to break it up?”

“I can go,” Vortex says immediately, leaning in to take in the scene.

I shake my head, though. With Grant this riled up, he might take it poorly if Vortex is the one who shows up.

“I’m headed in that direction anyway. Might as well be late for my meeting with Earl.” I clap Matthew’s shoulder. “Get that picture distributed, then you’re done for the night.”

Back out onto the casino floor, where it’s easy enough to find Grant having it out with the guest.

“I wasn’t fucking counting cards,” the guest says, slamming his hand onto the blackjack table. “Some guys are just lucky!”

Grant snarls at the guest. “Three lucky streaks in a row? Sell me a new one, buddy. You’re out of here, and—” He breaks off when he sees me. “Boss!”

The guest turns to face me. Now that I see him in person, I can’t deny that he’s a handsome man. Not really my type—I prefer small, skinny, and vulnerable—but not bad-looking all the same. He’s got a scar on his chin that stands out against his tan skin.

“Oh, good, the real manager. You can explain to me why your staff doesn’t want to pay out my winnings.” He crosses his arms and scowls at me.

“Of course. I’ll take it from here, Grant.” I motion for Grant to leave, and his cheeks flush an even uglier shade of red, but he isn’t going to question me in public. Vortex starts shooing away curious onlookers, and I see the dealer relax now that the commotion has mostly been dispersed.

Once Grant is gone, I turn back to the guest. “Perhaps introductions are in order first? My name is Caleb Spade, owner of the casino.”

The guy shifts uncomfortably, and finally says, “Havoc. You can call me Havoc.”

Another alias. It seems nobody around me enjoys handing out their real names. “I see. Now, Havoc, what did occur?”

Havoc glances at the dealer, then back to me. “I was playing blackjack. I got lucky. You lot owe me five hundred bucks.”

The dealer clearly wants to say something, but I subtly shake my head.

“I’ll get you your winnings,” I say to Havoc. Five hundred isn’t worth causing this much of a stink over. “But let’s both agree that you’re done with blackjack.”

Havoc startles. “What? No. That’s my favorite game.”

I meet his gaze steadily. “You take your five hundred and stop playing blackjack at my casino, or you get nothing and are banned entirely.”

Havoc grits his teeth. He could go to one of the other casinos in town—there are certainly plenty in Calamity City—but in the end the appeal of getting five hundred dollars is enough. He nods, and I direct one of the security staff to help Havoc get his winnings, and leave the poor dealer in peace.

Vortex glances at the dealer then back at me. “All good, boss?”

I nod, then check my phone. As predicted, I’m going to be late to my meeting with Earl, but if I hadn’t stopped down here, the situation between Grant and Havoc would certainly have escalated.

“If anything else happens, text Matthew,” I advise the dealer. I turn to Vortex. “Let’s hope Earl’s already had five drinks so we don’t have to listen to him reminiscing about the good old days.”

Vortex cracks a smile. “Yeah.” He hasn’t had to deal with my uncle often, but even a few times can feel like a few times too many.

The casino bar is packed, but it’s easy enough to spot Uncle Earl sitting at the bar counter, recounting something to an exasperated bartender. She spots me and smiles brightly, probably both because I’m the boss she needs to suck up to and because she knows I’m about to save her from Earl’s drunken stories.

One of the conditions of Earl’s sale of the casino was that he was allowed free drinks and $100 worth of free chips per day. It’s an annoying cost, but it had been the only way to get him to sell the failing casino to me.

“Hello, Uncle,” I say, closing the gap between us. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes!” Earl reaches out to clap me on the shoulders. “My favorite nephew. Or least favorite, when I’m losing at the tables.”

My smile is brittle, and I signal the bartender to get me my usual drink. “Then I’ll have to hope you haven’t been losing.”

The bartender ignores the others, immediately fixing my rum and bringing it over to me. She glances at Vortex, who shakes his head, but she grabs him a glass of water instead.

“Thanks, Patty,” he says, lifting the water in a silent toast to her.

She smiles back at him before hurrying back to deal with the other patrons, seeming considerably perkier now that she’s not dealing with Earl by herself.

“She’s nicer to you,” Earl complains. “Even though I’m not gay. I could give her a good time. Not like you.”

I roll my eyes, used to those types of comments from him. “It’s probably because she doesn’t want a good time from either of us that she’s nicer to me.”

Earl grunts and takes another sip of his drink. “She’s missing out. Half the women of Calamity will tell you that Little Earl is the best cock in town.”

“The other half have actually fucked you and know better,” Vortex mutters.

It takes Earl a beat to realize he’s been insulted, and he scowls, his ruddy face going even redder as he stares at Vortex. “And who the fuck are you to run your mouth?” he demands.

“Sorry,” Vortex says, in a tone that shows just how not sorry he actually is.

I should chide him, but instead, I cover my mouth to stifle a laugh. “Regardless of your prowess or lack thereof, Uncle, what did you need to meet about?”

Still glaring at Vortex, Earl says, “Can we get rid of the goon? Have a good chat, uncle to nephew?”

Vortex instantly responds, “Nope.”

“It’s fine,” I tell Vortex. “Earl and I will go take the table over there. You have a drink, maybe check in with guards upstairs to make sure my guest hasn’t tried anything stupid.”

Vortex looks between us, but he nods reluctantly. “I think Rosie is around, if you run into any trouble.” He finishes his water and sets the glass on the bar before trudging away, obviously unhappy but unwilling to challenge me.

Earl and I walk over to the small empty table. Our conversation won’t be completely private, but the guests around us are all absorbed in their own business.

“So what’s this about?” I ask once we’re seated, trying to keep the impatience out of my voice. The main reasons Earl asks to meet up are to try to remind me of how much I owe him, or to beg for money—sometimes both in one breath.

“I was thinking,” Earl says, and we both know he’s pretending to think about his words when he knows perfectly well what he wants to say. “I gave you the idea for the new gaming table layout. I should get compensated for that.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Is that how it happened?”

I’d been in the process of having the staff move the layout when Earl had waltzed in and complained about the changes. We’d ignored him and continued as planned, with Earl occasionally giving orders about where to move things.

“You were going in the completely wrong direction,” Earl says, leaning forward as he spews yet another falsehood. “You needed my help, and I gave it to you. I didn’t charge you a consultant fee, but maybe you’d like to offer a bonus?”

Recent family rumors say that Earl’s ex-wife is suing for missing alimony payments. I consider bringing that up, but it’s not a secret that Earl is terrible with money and always owes more than he could ever hope to repay. The ex is probably the tamest person he could owe, although if the courts hire somebody to sift through Earl’s finances, it could have consequences for the rest of us.

“Who do you owe?” I say. “I’ll pay whoever it is directly.”

Earl laughs, but the sound is nervous. “What makes you think I owe someone, nephew?” he asks, fidgeting with his glass. “My bank account could just use an extra zero or two, and you can afford it.”

“Because this way I know the debt will be paid off, and you won’t be tempted to gamble with that money,” I state carefully. “You wouldn’t want to fall even deeper into debt, now would you?”

“You always assume the worst of me, Caleb,” he admonishes.

I stare at him, waiting for him to crumple before me.

As usual, he does, folding because I’m calling him out on his many, many debts. “Irene is getting greedy,” he says. “She’s not satisfied with all the money I’ve paid her. She thinks that since the Roi is doing well, she’s entitled to its profits. You see why I haven’t wanted to pay her? It’s not her money. It’s yours.”

“Oh, of course. How nice of you to think of me.” I smile at him. “We can sit down with the lawyers and discuss it all.” I pull my phone out and open my calendar. “I’m available on…”

My calendar, is, of course, full, but I know if I don’t get this problem taken care of, he’ll continue to hound me.

I wish I could rid myself of this dead weight, but he’s still family, and my father would get on my case if I cut his brother off entirely. My grandfather likes to hold lengthy family gatherings to remind us all of the importance of blood ties and how he worked hard to build this empire, and at this point, my generation is waiting for him to finally kick it so we can do things our own way.

Maybe that’s uncharitable, but he’s lived an overly long life for a gangster.

Earl and I arrange a time to meet, which will cut into my time with my new acquisition , but it’s not as though I have much else I can cut from my days.

My impatience is starting to tug at me, and as soon as the appointment is scheduled, I excuse myself from the table.

I want to head back up to my suite, but I get another text alerting me to an issue I need to deal with.

No rest for the wicked, or the diligent.

Seven will get to enjoy a night of reprieve while I deal with all these messes.