Page 43 of Dealing Dirty
“Illegal sports betting,” Derrick murmurs close to my ear, nodding toward the massive wall. What I thought was one large screen is actually several rows of TVs, which take up every inch of the back of the building.
Men are lounging in brown recliners while half-naked women flit from chair to chair, giving lap dances or draping themselves at their sides. Some of them puff cigars, ignoring everything except what’s happening in front of them.
Two topless women in bright pink thongs guide a pair of guys toward a secret room, hidden by long red drapes. Three different guards stand at the entrance of the room, lazily surveying the area.
What’s going on here?
I drop my voice, following Derrick to a slot machine. “Do you think some of those men could be the ones Sasha is following?”
A man in an expensive-looking suit reclines back with a redhead perched on his lap. He lazily plays with the strap of her string thong before trailing his touch up to her see-through bralette. He shows too little of his face for me to really get a good look at who he could be.
My spine straightens. For a terrifying moment, I think he may be Bruce, but no, he’s too tall and thin. His shoes, covered in a strange pattern I’m not familiar with, match his expensive clothing.
“I don’t know,” Derrick says. “But if they are, hopefully Ben will keep them distracted long enough that we’ll go unnoticed.”
Ben’s lurking around here somewhere. It’s hard not to search him out, but I can’t risk accidentally bumping into someone who may realize we don’t belong here.
Derrick blows a breath through his lips and grumbles, “I can’t believe I’m doing this shit again.”
He must be referring to when Jack got roughed up by Bruce’s guys at Royals. Cassidy was scared to death and ended up playing nursemaid for him that night. The very next day, we’d made plans to fly to Vegas.
My skin begins to itch with an ever-present anxiousness. “Don’t worry, we won’t be here long.”
I really want to lace my fingers in his and promise him that Sasha will be alright—but the lines between us are blurring enough on their own, and they don’t need any help from me.
“Why don’t you play a little while before wandering around? I’ll be over at the blackjack tables if you need me.” His lips thin, picking up on the changes in my demeanor.
“Sure, okay. I’ll meet you by the last row of slots in thirty minutes.” I hook my thumb over my right shoulder.
With a curt nod, he crosses the short distance to the tables, and I plop down in the ripped leather seat beside me. Puffing my cheeks with a breath, I scrub a hand down my face.
Focus on the task at hand and not your libido for once in your life, Jules.
“Where is she?” I whisper, craning my neck as I slip a twenty into the machine.
Derrick sits down at the blackjack table, and the dealer takes his money before distributing his chips. He starts up a casual conversation with the men beside him as explosive hollering comes from the area in the back.
Curious, I peek around the machine from where I’m sitting to get another look at Mr. Fancy Shoes. To my surprise, he’s no longer there, and the redhead who was entertaining him has moved on to someone else.
I turn back to the machine I’m playing, gripping it tightly as a shadow appears behind Derrick. The woman is wearing a dark blue baseball hat that’s concealing her face as she blurs past the blackjack table.
My blood pumps wildly. She’s disappeared past my line of sight, and I’m torn between chancing going after her myself or getting Derrick’s attention.
As casually as I can, I slowly rotate in my seat, checking for Ben.
There’s no sign of him, and the only way out of here is the way we entered. If that woman was Sasha, I have no idea how she snuck past the guard, but we need to get to her before she does something foolish, like reveal herself.
I’m struggling to keep my cool. I don’t want to lose her, but I don’t want to cause a scene either. My hands swipe over Hazel’s leather pants, which do little to soak up the sweat. I’ve only got seconds to spare before we lose her.
Decision made, I meander my way to the machines closest to Derrick as if I’m just switching games. The pit boss glances in my direction before flicking his gaze across the other side of his space.
Dios Mio.
Positioning myself just out of the boss’s sight, and next to a machine that’s to the right of where Derrick plays, I begin waving wildly.
He doesn’t look up from the chips he’s counting, so I reevaluate.
When I cough, the other dealers flick their eyes my way, and frustration has me clenching my fists. How am I supposed to get his attention with so many people around?
