Chapter 9
JUDAH
“Come on, buddy,” I said as I steered the stumbling man toward the door. “Time to call a ride.”
And then it’s time for me to bitch out the bartender for overserving the guy. It’s not even five yet.
Most days, I disliked my job. I was a glorified errand boy. The errands were just a little less than legal. On the days that I wasn’t striking the fear of God into grown men with the casual nature of someone running to the store for milk, I was a fucking babysitter for this place.
I nudged the guy out onto the sidewalk and wiped my hands on my pants. The neon glow of the Four Horsemen sign picked up the dried blood that was still speckled on my fingers.
Dammit. I thought I’d scrubbed hard enough.
I tapped into the earpiece that was threaded up my polo until I heard the click. “I’m taking a smoke break.”
I didn’t smoke. But everyone else did, so why shouldn’t I get a fucking break too?
Someone grunted over the line, acknowledging my statement.
Instead of heading through the casino and out the back door, I walked out the front and down the sidewalk.
My chest tightened as I kept my head down and quickened my pace. I couldn’t be gone too long, but ten minutes wouldn’t hurt.
The Shore was only two blocks away, and I knew the buildings well enough to know exactly which alley to slip through to get down to the ocean without having to use a beach access.
The soles of my boots scraped across the sand-sprayed asphalt before silencing in a soft squish.
The ruckus from neighboring casinos, restaurants, and theaters was loud as ever. Beachgoers packed the Shore. But, in my mind, it all went away as I neared the water.
I didn’t have long, so I turned left, heading away from the crowds. Thankfully, the only silhouette out this way was small, sitting on the edge of the dry sand as she stared out at the waves.
I recognized her immediately.
Spotting Amelia Hawthorne sitting on the outskirts of the devil’s lair should have been my sign to turn around and go back to work. She was the Eurydice to my Orpheus. I wanted to drag her away from this hell, but fixating on her would damn us both.
I wasn’t a glutton by nature, but if there was one thing I indulged in on occasion, it was punishment.
“I have to say. . .” I spoke loudly as I shoved my hands in my pockets, so as not to startle her. “I’m a little surprised to see you.”
Amelia didn’t turn. She stayed exactly as she was, sitting stoically in the sand. Her bag was beside her, mostly empty from the looks of it. Probably a little cash to start the night, but nothing substantial.
I lowered down, taking the patch of sand beside her. “Breakup finally hit you?”
She just stared blankly at the horizon. The lingering remnants of sunlight illuminated her porcelain complexion in hues of gold, changing her eye color from blue to green. “Huh?”
“The cheating ex-fiancé and maid of honor?” I knew it was all bullshit, but I was feeling generous tonight.
“Oh,” Amelia said as she blinked the stupor away. “Right. Yeah.”
I had never seen someone look so heartbroken, and I regularly watched people gamble away every penny they had to their name.
But mixed in the heartbreak was resolve. She was tired. She was broken. But she wasn’t a quitter.
She had shown up again today, even after I’d sent her away time and time again. And she wasn’t even doing it for herself.
That’s what got me. She cared deeply; enough to protect someone else at great cost to herself. Once upon a time, I had believed in that kind of sacrifice too.
Did I still believe in it? In the idea of something greater than myself? These days, the idea of working to protect the greater good was a fucking pipe dream.
But Amelia believed in it. That’s why she was here tonight, on the beach, summoning up the courage to play another round.
After a moment of silence, Amelia began to gather herself. She took a deep breath, stretched her feet out, and exhaled. “Are you going to try to scare me away again?”
“Yes.”
Amelia scoffed. She should have been scared. But more than scared, I wanted her to be safe. I wanted her to be fully aware of the gravity of the players she was dealing with. I wanted her to leave her brother to his own demise and get the hell out of Dodge.
Joel Hawthorne hadn’t learned his lesson.
I had been keeping an eye on him, tracking his digital footprint.
He wasn’t the choirboy Amelia thought he was.
He had serious problems—ones that would likely require professional intervention.
Amelia shouldn’t have to pay for his sins, but it seemed she was willing to.
“Why won’t you just leave me alone?” she sassed, even though I knew it was all an act. “And what the hell was your deal, dragging me into the closet? I should have pepper-sprayed you.”
I chuckled at the thought, and it pissed her off that much more.
“Either you were trying to scare me because you wanted me to leave just like every other night, or you were trying to get lucky in a closet that smelled like bleach and mildew.”
The closet did smell gross. She had me there.
“I’m not that kind of man.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “I’ve seen a lot of shitty poker faces this week, but yours might be the worst of them.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. It was such a foreign sensation—tossing my head back so hard that my hair spilled out of the bun I had tied it up in as my face broke into a grin. “I swore off relationships a long time ago.”
“Just because you swore off relationships doesn’t mean you swore off fucking.”
I liked hearing that filthy word slip from her holy lips.
Guilt nipped at my jugular. “Do I really seem like the kind of guy who would drag a woman into a closet and take advantage of her?”
I knew what the answer was. The answer should have been a resounding yes. I had worked hard to curate a persona that struck fear into anyone who had the misfortune of laying eyes on me.
But Amelia hadn’t run. The moment I saw her for the first time, she had flirted with me. Not once had she been afraid.
“You seem like the kind of guy who would work at the Four Horsemen,” she said as she reached for her bag. The side of her hand brushed mine.
Her hands were so perfect. Soft and delicate. Long fingers that moved like the most graceful dancers. There was no dried blood beneath her fingernails. No callouses from years of pain. No cuts and scrapes.
My hands told a different story entirely, but she didn’t jerk away. Instead, she let her pinky slide along the side of mine. That’s when I realized that I had closed my eyes at her touch. I had exhaled. I had relaxed my shoulders.
I opened my eyes to find Amelia studying me like I was an amusing equation that she was about to best.
I knew I was playing with fire. If anyone saw me down here with her and did even a basic online search, they’d know that Dr. Amelia Hawthorne was the sister of a man on John Valentine’s list.
I couldn’t let that happen.
Maybe there was some shred of me that still believed in the greater good. That part of me was sleep-deprived and delusional.
The logical part of me believed in her. It believed in someone who saw past a facade and offered a moment of her time to sit in quiet companionship.
I hoped this was the last time I saw her. I hoped she never came back, if only to protect herself. I hoped I never knew another thing about her after this moment. And I hoped the image of her sun-kissed cheeks and soft smile never left my memory.
I curled my pinky around hers in a silent promise but avoided her gaze. “Stay out of trouble, little fox. Even the most clever can fall into traps.”
Amelia didn’t say a word as I got up and walked back toward the strip of buildings, but I felt her eyes watching me.
I did my best to wipe off the sand. John always complained when it was tracked into the casino. But he was also the micromanaging dumbass who put carpet in a fucking casino.
It didn’t matter how much elbow grease the janitorial team mustered up—the carpet was ninety percent liquor stains and blood. I had a hunch that, after a few more years, the flooring would be rather stain-resistant.
Walking back into the Four Horsemen was like stepping into an alternate dimension.
There were no clocks or windows, save for the clocks in the security room.
Floor staff weren’t even allowed to wear watches, just in case a guest asked for the time.
Taking away someone’s sense of time meant they’d play longer and risk more.
If I wasn’t in the security room, the only way I could find out the time was by simply waiting for the next rotation.
I made it through two rotations of hoping Amelia had decided to get back in her car and go home when she walked through the doors.
Dammit.
I had just left my spot working the door. If I’d waited a little longer, I could have forced her to leave. Instead, I was stuck in the security room. And since flagging the guy at the door to turn her away would have raised even more questions, all I could do was sit there.
Seeing her on that fucking security feed was my favorite show. One I didn’t want to like but couldn’t help but watch anyway.
Blue flashed across the screen. She spotted the camera, looked me straight in the eye, and smirked like she knew I was the one watching.
Of course Amelia had learned the security rotation.
That’s why she had waited on the beach before coming in. She was waiting for me to be stuck in this godforsaken room, and she had done it all while twisting my heart into knots.
My clever little fox . . .
Amelia might have been onto my routine, but I was onto hers.
She went to the bar, ordered a drink that she would meagerly sip, then watched until she had the count of a fast-moving table. She hated playing with other folks who were slow to decide, probably because she was more likely to lose the count if she had to pause too long.