Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
“You deaf, new girl?”
What in the hell was this guy’s problem? I turned slowly until my gaze connected with angry golden eyes I didn’t understand.
“Did I forget something?” I hated the way my voice wobbled and my eyes stung with tears I refused to shed. “What?” I looked around at the four sets of eyes watching me like I’d walked out with a stack of chips.
“Don’t be an asshole, Evan.”
Hulu glared at him and shook his head.
I looked to Provo, who I figured would be a friendly face since he’d eaten dinner at my table at least a hundred times over the years. “Well?”
Mace made his way toward me, a sympathetic grin stretched tight across his face. “Don’t leave without having one of us walk you to your car.”
The guys passed a look around between them, like it was some sort of secret code.
“Look, I can take care of myself…”
But before I could finish my sentence, Mace interrupted me with a fierceness that made me back against the door.
“It’s a safety issue,” he said, his smile melting away, “and we take it pretty seriously around here.”
“Oh,” I blinked rapidly willing tears not to fall because I didn’t want to seem weak, a leftover response from growing up in an ultra-conservative, super-controlling household where every loud yell, every bellow meant trouble. And tears.
“I didn’t know.” This wasn’t personal. They were serious. “No one said…I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Provo said in a soft tone. “Evan’s just an asshole.”
“Had a thing for Fiona,” Hulu added quietly, but not so quiet that I didn’t hear, which only fueled my curiosity about why anyone would leave such an easy and lucrative job with no notice at all.
“Shut the fuck up,” Evan growled and against my will, I jumped in fear. Again.
“Okay well, can you walk me to my car, Mace?”
“Sure thing, Nessa. Let’s go.”
“Good night,” I practically whispered and waited as close to the door as possible. I heard that bottle of Gentleman Jack calling my name more than ever.
It was one hell of a first day, and like I told Mace, I needed time to regroup.
And get ready to do it all again tomorrow night.
Mace waved goodbye as I buckled up and started the ignition. I pulled away but when I looked in my rearview mirror, I saw a black Tesla turn and drive out through the other exit.
Was that Emmett? Why would he be here?
CHAPTER SEVEN
Emmett
I hated that Vanessa was a card girl for the underground games, but I had no right to have an opinion on the matter.
For the last three hours I’d been pacing the floor of my apartment trying to figure out a way to put a stop to it. After all the time she’d spent with Kat and Maisie the last few months, I figured she might take a job at one of the casinos, maybe even doing books at a whorehouse, but no, after what had happened with Fiona, here she was, a fucking card girl.
Sweet and shy Vanessa would be mixing and mingling with the rich and reckless, putting smiles on their faces and probably—almost certainly—being a good luck charm for a player or two.
And I was jealous as fuck. She’d stuck in my mind, my gut since that night driving home from Kat’s.
And that wasn’t the worst part of it. No, the worst part of all was what had happened to Fiona. She was dead. Raped, mutilated and murdered, right in front of our eyes.
Even though we didn’t know exactly why yet, there was no question that her connection to the Ashbys was the reason. I’d never be able to unsee that horrible sight, and I’d never forget it.
A quick look at the clock told me Vanessa was probably an hour into her shift, and I couldn’t help but wonder how she was doing. Mace would keep his eye on her, and she already knew Provo. Hulu was a jokester and could put anyone at ease, but Evan was a gruff son of a bitch whose relationship with Fiona was an open secret.
They would keep Vanessa as safe as they could, but Fiona probably thought the same thing and she was getting buried Sunday morning.
I have to go to her and keep her safe. That was my first instinct as the clock struck eleven, but I knew it wasn’t possible. Spectators weren’t allowed at the games, not since some idiot had gotten it into his thick skull to rob the game and the players—which meant robbing the Ashbys—and met a quick and brutal end. And since the whole fiasco with Ravager went down, which I felt responsible for, I was in no position to ask for a favor like entry into the high stakes game room.
Or the game. I made real good money working for the Ashbys, but not the kind of money that would allow me entry into the six-figure buy-ins. Though I could touch the money I’d made on Ravager’s fight, which I felt guilty about having and hadn’t touched since it was deposited into my account.