Page 37 of Betting Blind
“How much do you have?” Juliana asks, and when I answer her, Derrick slams his palm down on the table, making her jump.
“Absolutely not, Jack.” He pins his finger to the table. “It took you years to save up that money. Not only that, but he’s beenstealingfrom us for the better part of a year! Why would you throw all that way?”
My neck grows hot with frustration. I’m not in the mood to lose my shit in front of the girls, but the urge simmers under my skin. “He’s my fucking brother, D. What do you want me to do?” The comforting weight of Cassidy’s hand touches my thigh, and I take a calming breath.
The four of us sit together, stewing in silence until Juliana raises her manicured hand in front of her. As she inspects her nails, she casually spouts off the craziest idea I’ve ever heard. “What about Vegas?”
“Come again?” I turn an ear to her as if I didn’t comprehend.
“I’m serious.” She stands, and as she talks excitedly with her hands, I notice Derrick’s eyes slide down her body to her ass. I kick his foot under the table to get his attention, and he smiles slyly.
“Where’s the one place in the country known for big gambling and even bigger payouts? It’s not out of the realm of possibilities to think we could earn the rest of the cash we need there.”
Cass places her elbows on the table and chews her thumbnail in thought.
I turn to her. “You can’t honestly be thinking about this?”
“I’ve always wanted to go to Las Vegas.” Excitement lights her beautiful face, and her and Juliana begin to ramble excitedly back and forth over when we would leave and how they would arrange for someone named Deborah to come stay with Cassidy’s mom.
Derrick lazily shrugs when I turn to him. So much for Mr. Bright Ideas.
“No,” I say firmly, snuffing out their excitement. “You need money to make money. Gambling twenty or even fifty dollars here and there isn’t going to hit big enough to make up for what we need.”
Juliana places a hand on her hip. “You have thirty thousand dollars, Jack. We can use a portion of that to bet with.”
“And when we spend that, we’ll be even deeper in the hole.”
Derrick leans forward, and the bastard has the nerve to take her side on this. “Well… do you have any better ideas?”
The three of them stare at me with big, hopeful eyes. This is a terrible idea. It’s a horrible, terrible idea, but D is right. I’m fresh out of solutions and at this point, what else do I have to lose? If we can somehow pull this off, then we can get Ben back, clear his name, and finally put this whole thing behind us.
Against my better judgment, I mutter, “Let’s do this.”
Chapter 17
Ben
My dry, tired eyes blink open to a dimly lit room, and the blood in my veins begins to pump vigorously. The days have ticked by excruciatingly slow, but I’m guessing it’s been about a week that I’ve been here. I look around the plain, practically empty room I’m being held in and moan in frustration.
Why didn’t they just kill me?
That’s the one question that’s been on my mind since I was ambushed at Royals by Todd and Gerald before being dumped wherever “here” is. I swallow, but there’s no relief for my parched throat. They may not have killed me, but starvation isn’t out of their scope of torture.
I laugh at the irony. Those two idiots aren’t so different from Jack and me. Though the bossman—known around the many hidden casinos in Mackville as Diablo—didn’t usually have us kidnap his victims.
Instead, we had the pleasure of beating them senseless until they caved and gave back the money or favors they owed. We got to play “bounty hunter” most days, and I still cringe at the memories of the fucked-up things we did. It’s not a time I’m proud of, especially since I dragged Jack into it headfirst with me, but it was an easy way to ensure we were fed.
I release a heavy breath. Jack is too good for what I’ve been putting him through and by now, he’s probably realized that I’ve gone missing. I squeeze my eyes tightly, hating how worried I’ve probably made him and what he will have to sacrifice to get me out of this mess.
He tries to play the badass role—covering himself in tattoos and projecting the asshole image—but underneath the bluff, he’s a big softy. He cares too damn much about anyone and everyone he gets close to, which is why he was shit at the job we were given.
When he told me that he wanted to start up his own business and get out from under the devil, I went along because that’s what good brothers do. But it was his dream, not mine. Even still, I couldn’t leave him to do it all alone, not after the shit we went through as kids. Not after the abuse and heartache that neither of us have truly dealt with.
I love him too much to put him through this anymore.
I glance over to the bread I’ve been given on a paper plate and then down to my usually fit body. One week of minimal food rations and little water has already weakened my body, and I imagine it’ll be much worse if they don’t find me soon.
The fact is, if Diablo wanted me dead, I would be. His men are more than capable of it, so I’m racking my brain as to why they would leave me alive. They’re most likely using me as leverage, but I’m not sure what’s left to give. Jack makes a decent living with the bar but not nearly enough to cover my debts and then some.
