Page 12 of Fighting For Light
The cool desert air flies through my hair and makes my jacket billow in the wind. I know I should have a helmet on, but sometimes, we have to dance with death to remember our ownmortality. The problem is, I don’t need to be reminded of mine very often because I face it every day.
I motor down the Las Vegas strip. The neon lights are dimmed by my sunglasses. It’s like I’m seeing the world behind glass I’ll never be able to move past. Once I reach the end of the strip, I turn left to get back on the interstate. I want to gofast. As I merge on, there aren’t a ton of cars on the road at this time of night. I flick the throttle, shooting off into the night.
On my way back, I spot the Bellagio and turn in. I have no business going in here, especially because the Costas have their hand in this pot, too, but maybe I’ll see someone or something going on. I’m being proactive.Or maybe you’re just looking for trouble. Oh, wait, you’re going into the one place you are guaranteed to find it.
After I park my bike and walk through the door, the sounds of winning dings fill my ears. Luxury stores are on both sides of me, and the casino entrance is to my right. My heart pounds in my throat, and adrenaline rushes through my veins as I saunter through the low lights, dinging machines, and someone yells, “Winner, winner, chicken dinner.” I note my exits and find a table. It’s low stakes because I’m not actually here to gamble. I’m handed a few chips and dealt in for blackjack. I check my cards and then the dealer. I make the motion to hit me again while I observe the casino. Nothing sticks out to me. The men in suits look like security. No one is giving me funny looks. It’s like I’m begging to be caught.
I win the round and tell him to deal me in again. He calls for everyone to place their bets, and I slide my chips in. The chatter in the room goes quiet, and people look towards the main aisle. Wondering what everyone is paying attention to, I turn and see the princess herself walking down the velvety carpet like it’s a runway.
Aelia Costa. Marco Costa’s only daughter out of four children and his prized possession. We hear things about her. She’s wild and doesn’t care what her father or brothers think. She lives outside the lines of ordinary civilians, but even in her recklessness, she has to abide by the mob rules. I’m sure she’s been promised to a man from a rival family already, and she’s just pushing the boundaries as far as she can until she will have to stay behind them. I can understand that.
Aelia doesn’t spare me a glance, and neither does her entourage. Clearly, there is no activity going on here. I play my last round and cash out.
I call Liam while I ride back down the strip to the Wynn, the one that’s hosting the freestyle event. “Two times in one day. What did I do to deserve the honor?” Liam asks.
I roll my eyes and weave through traffic. “I went to the Bellagio and—“
A string of curses rings in my ears, and I wait for him to stop. “Why the hell would you do that? It’s like you’retryingto tip them off that we got rid of what’s his face!”
“His name was John. And I wasn’t trying to do anything. I just wanted to do some recon. I saw the princess, though.”Yeah, right, dumbass. You were definitely looking for a fight.
“Huh, I’m surprised she’s there. I heard she’s traveling the world most of the time.”
“Yeah, well, she was with her entourage.”
“That tells me her dad or her brothers aren’t there. I hear she avoids them like the plague.”
I frown, turning onto the back street where entertainers stash their RVs. “And how would you know?” I ask him, spotting Reece and Cordelia hanging out in front of their camper. Cordelia always sets things up when we get somewhere. She’ll string Christmas lights around the awning. I’ve even seen her set up some potted plants around the fold-up table they set out.
“I know a lot of things, Two. It’s my job to know those things,” he says. Liam is very good with computers. He got into them when we were younger, and he’s kind of a kid genius. He figured out how to hack our father’s phone just to piss him off and get back at him. So if there is chatter somewhere, Liam would know.
“Well, I was just there, so maybe nothing has come up yet,” I suggest.
He chuckles dryly. “No, Kai. If Daddy Costa was there and saw you, Emerson and I would already be on the jet, and Mom would be surrounded by an army. But no, there’s nothing. So your little mission was a failure.”
“That’s probably a good thing,” I mutter, glancing at the setup Cordi came up with this time as I flip my kickstand and turn off my bike. She has always found a way to make things better. Being the only woman in a group of men, she’s never shied away from being just that…a woman. My sunglasses are still on, so she doesn’t know I’m looking right back at her as I unlock my garage to put my bike away.
“I’d say so, but Kai…”
“What?” I grunt out, flipping the last latch.
“Why are you looking for a fight?” he asks me carefully. I growl and lay down the ramp to roll my bike up. Cordi is still staring at me, and I do my best to ignore her.
“I am notlookingfor a fight. I am trying to figure out what’s coming.”
“Well, you know what they say, Two. If you go looking for trouble, you are bound to find it,” Liam cautions.
I grab my handlebars, roll the bike up, and flip the kickstand back down. I wipe the bead of sweat from my neck and lean against the counter, subtly looking at Cordi, laughing at something Reece said. “I wasn’t looking for trouble, you ass. I just don’t want them to catch me by surprise again, and I couldn’t live with myself if I weren’t doing everything in mypower to avoid the bloodshed, even if that means we need to have a sit-down,” I say, exasperated and entirely exhausted.
“You can’t negotiate your way out of this, Kai, as much as I wish we could. But for now, it’s quiet. Let’s just be happy it is. Plus…I kind of like the bloodshed.”
“Liam…”
He chuckles loudly, solidifying my concern for my little brother and his unchecked overconfidence. It’s going to get him in trouble one day, and I don’t think Emerson or I will be able to do anything about it. “Brother, chill. It will be okay. Just stop looking for a fight. I’ll keep an eye out. I sent messages out to my contacts in Washington.” I hear flip-flops and know Cordi is likely making her way over here.
“Okay, fine. Let me know, and tell Mom I said hi.” Liam laughs again, and I wince at the volume.
“Tell her yourself, asshole. You know she will just pat my cheek and say, ‘The prince can call me himself,’” he says in a bad interpretation of our mother.
