Chapter Seven #4
Trying to cheat a normal casino was dangerous.
They weren’t—for the most part—run by the mob like they used to be.
But that didn't mean that the men who owned them—and the men and women they employed—were fine, upstanding citizens who always played by the books.
You fucked them over, they could, and often did, haul you into a back room and beat the shit out of you.
How else would you learn?
What other deterrent could a gambling addict have to keep them from trying again other than gross bodily harm?
"I thought I got away with it," he admitted.
"Walked away with a big pot. No one seemed any wiser.
In fact, got some pats on the back from these men and women—powerful men and women, it felt good, I won't lie—for finally winning after such a losing streak.
I mean, it wasn't like they'd miss the money.
I didn't feel bad or anything about it. These people are worth millions.
They play with hundreds and thousands like they're quarters or dollars.
It didn't hurt their bottom line. But, I figured, I could put it to good use. "
"You expect me to believe you were going to do something unselfish with it?"
"I get you think I'm slime. I think that about myself enough to recognize when someone else is doing it. And I get that I earned that in a lot of ways. But I was trying. To do some good. To fix some wrongs."
"What wrongs?"
"I took the cash to pay off the mortgage I took out on the store after Pops died. He'd have fucking climbed out of his grave if it were possible just to beat my ass with a belt about doing that. His pride and joy. His legacy. He didn't mean for me to have it, you know."
"He wanted to leave it to Savvy."
"Yeah. Guess I was bitter about that sometimes.
He loved Savvs. Like a daughter. Like the kid, the heir, I could never be to him.
Always a fuck up. Always a disappointment.
But she was right there, young, eager, all gaga over all the animals.
Except the fucking tarantulas. Whenever she could, she pawned them off on Pops or one of the part-time kids.
Hated them. But everything else? She loved them.
Cared for them like thousands of her little kids.
Picked up the knowledge my father spewed at her like a sponge, eventually, I think, surpassing him even.
Something that made him want to leave the store to her, give her a future her parents never even tried to, let her have something she clearly loved as much as he did his whole life. He meant for her to have it."
"So why didn't you give it to her?"
To that, he snorted. "Because I'm a bastard. Because I was selfish and short-sighted. Because I was angry my father never loved me as much as he loved this girl he wasn't related to."
"Maybe he loved her because she let him," I offered, shrugging. "While you were too busy pushing him away."
"Can't say you're wrong. Or that it is possible not to love Savvy.
Even a little bit. As resentful as I was of her sometimes when Pops would clap her on the shoulder or nudge her conspiratorially, it was hard not to like the kid.
She had a good heart. She gave pieces of it to every animal—and well-intentioned pet parent—that came in the store.
Somehow never running out of pieces. I get it.
And after the sting of his passing wore away and I saw what damage I had done by mortgaging it out when it was paid off, what it could mean to the store, his legacy, her future, I tried to make it right. I paid it off."
"Except they found you out."
"They found me out."
"And the money was gone."
"No way was the mortgage company going to give it back."
"How much was it?"
To that, he snorted.
"One-eighty."
"Shit."
"Yeah."
"How long did they give you to get it back?"
"Twelve weeks."
Maybe this Eamon guy was used to his usual clientele, these people who could buy boats just to use them once to impress their friends with a party. Who had enough designer shit in their closets to feed a family of four for a year. Or more.
You couldn't give an average Joe on the streets twelve weeks to come up with that kind of capital.
Maybe he had some shit to sell. Good enough credit to get a loan. But that all took time.
And as much as I wished I could say I had one-eighty to spare, I simply didn't. One day, I hoped I would. But that day was not today. When Savvy needed it most.
I'd never envied wealthy men before, having come from somewhat humble beginnings, not having a taste for fancy things myself. I always wanted to be comfortable, able to handle my bills without worrying. And I had that.
But right there in that car with the life of a woman I cared about in the balance, I wished I had a taste for that wild ambition.
I wished I had been less willing to take on cases on a slanted scale to help those who didn't have as much money as some of my other clients.
I wish I had invested money in smart stocks, made a fortune while I slept.
It could save Savea.
But wishing for things you didn't have wouldn't help.
I could raise the one-eighty.
I didn't doubt that. The Mallicks had money. Charlie and Helen—the patriarch and matriarch of the clan—could likely cover it all without blinking.
And as much as I hated to admit it, it might hurt my pride a bit to ask. Even if they would never think less of me for it. Even if all they cared about was the safety and well-being of Savea, someone they also cared for deeply.
"You know what," I decided, casting a long look at him at a red light.
"I don't think I like that look."
"You're probably not going to like this plan. But you are going to go along with it. Willingly or not,. I don't fucking care, honestly. But this is what is going to happen. You are going to come with me to visit some good friends of mine. The Mallicks."
"Oh, shit."
"Yep. Oh, shit. You are going to ask them for the one-eighty.
And they are going to give it to you because, guess what, they love Savea too.
And I am going to make sure they collect their usual interest. I don't give a fuck if you have to get three jobs scrubbing toilets, cutting lawns, wiping asses to make it.
you will make it. And you will pay it back.
Or I will gladly show up each and every time Shane—that giant boulder of a man with a heart of stone when it comes to his work—darkens your doorsteps and beats payments out of you.
That is what we are going to do. And you're not going to get the money back at tables. You're going to do it honest."
"If I say no?"
"If you say no, I will personally take you somewhere dark and quiet and handle you myself. In a more permanent way. Can't say I've taken a life before. But for Savvs, I would be happy to break that record, cross that line. I don't need you anymore. Keep that in mind."
We pulled up an hour later to the bar after asking Nixon to assemble everyone.
The Mallicks, in order to appear more legitimate, and, well, wash their dirty money, owned a lot of local businesses. Buildings, lawn companies, a gym. And, originally, the bar.
Chaz's.
Closed at this time of day.
Open only for this kind of business.
Back door kind of business.
And that was where I led Harry, still holding onto the back of his shirt, slick now with sweat, realizing how good and fucked he was for the foreseeable future, but hopefully aware of how he had earned every bit of the hardship, maybe enough to try to turn his fucking life around.
They were an intimidating sight, the Mallick family all standing in a line.
Charlie was older, graying at the temples, but strong and fierce.
You wouldn't look at him and easily picture him sitting on the floor doing a puzzle with his grandkids, pushing them on swings until they squealed, sneaking them candies behind their parents' backs.
Even someone like me who had seen such things dozens of times before couldn't find a trace of the grandfather in Charlie, the businessman, the loan shark.
Lined up beside him were his sons. Ryan, Mark, Eli, Hunter, and Shane. Hunt wasn't even in the business anymore, but, I figured, because this was family, he was there. Ready to fight if need be.
Now, they were all terrifying in their own way, tall, strong, dark-haired, light blue eyed. Criminals—and former criminals—all of them.
But none of them, not a single one of them, was quite as scary as the only woman standing beside them.
Helen Mallick.
To be a woman married to a loan shark, who raised five headstrong, loan shark and enforcing sons, she had to be formidable, a force to be reckoned with.
And that was exactly what she looked like right then and there.
Five-foot-nine inches of motherly fury. Hazel eyes sparking.
This was a woman who locked you out if you showed up two minutes late to dinner, who provided a soft heart and a firm hand to all those around her.
Charlie's hand moved out, snatching his wife's hand, holding her there, like he somehow knew she intended to fly across the room, do even more damage than I had already done to Harry.
"We can be pissed at Harry later," I announced to the dead silence of the room.
"Right now, he needs a loan of one-eighty.
With interest," I added with emphasis, eyes going to Charlie and then Shane, making sure they understood my implication.
Charlie's head gave the slightest of nods, securing the money, the interest on it.
Shane's giant hand closed into a fist, promising what would happen if the interest wasn't paid.
"And then I need to find someone in this town who might be in-the-know enough with the rich folks who might know about an underground casino run by someone named Eamon Awan. "
I saw the way eyes squinted, a complete lack of recognition there. At least I wasn't alone in being in the dark.
"Isn't Lloyd on the case?" Charlie asked. He was right. I could see if he had any contact with him, any way to find him.