Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“Looks that way,” I admit and run my hand over my still not quite familiar beard.
“She looks younger than seventeen.”
I want to ask him if he’s taken a long look at her. She may be small framed but every part of her that makes her a woman is there. The woman has more bodily assets than some of the other girls at the club, even with their enhancements.
I opt for comedy rather than taking the chance of him picturing Khloe’s spectacular breasts in his mind. “That’s because you’re old, man.”
He laughs and nods his head. “Okay, I’ll give you that.”
I feel the need to explain. The last thing I want is anyone thinking I was trolling the high school campus looking for a young thing to take back to the clubhouse for less than pure activities.
“She’s had a rough life. Parents are dead; she’s been in shitty foster homes for years.” I shrug my shoulders, attempting to hide the rage I feel every time I think about that horrible foster dad of hers. “I just wanted to help her out.”
“Never intended to fall for her then.” It’s not a question; it’s a statement. I’m certain anyone who watches our interactions can see how much I care for her.
“Not in a million years,” I mutter and turn my attention back to the landscape that is sailing by.
“No judgement here, man. I’m heading to Vegas for a girl I’ve just kissed a few times.”
Bryan keeps his eyes on the road and lets me try to work through this shit without spectators for the rest of the trip into Sin City.
***
We head directly to Vegas. The first thing we do is grab a nicer hotel room. The plan is to stay here while we do surveillance. Just because we will be dealing with nasty shitheads daily, doesn’t mean we have to stay in a crappy hotel.
Bryan plans to somehow lure the SINdicate into loaning him money, so we also have to drive closer to The Golden Dragon and get another room. He has to appear to be on his last leg for the story to stand up.
After securing the nicer room, I drop Bryan off at the shitty hotel to grab a room there, and I take the car back to the nicer hotel. A quick cab ride later, and I’m walking through the dusty doors of The Golden Dragon. It reeks of stale cigarettes and spilled beer. Why anyone would want to come in here is beyond me.
I walk across the threadbare carpets looking for Bryan. Spotting him at a blackjack table, I settle in at a slot machine. Not only are the machines some of the oldest ones I’ve ever seen, but even the drink girl also looks a decade or so past her prime. This is not something that would ever happen at a casino on the strip. An attempt to pass this mess off as a Vegas good time would quickly end in bankruptcy.
This isn’t even the kind of place the locals would frequent. This place seems more likely to be visited by the people who are so far down on their luck, they’re here more for the air conditioning rather than the slots and tables.
I have to admit that Bryan plays a drunk stupid guy really well. I watch as he sways in his seat, placing the most ridiculous bets. Even to me he looks like a target. He clears the table faster than I thought possible, each man getting up one by one as he ruins their luck right along with his.
No less than five minutes after watching him at the table, he’s broke and walking to the ATM. I stay back but keep him in my line of sight. I see a man approach him and escort him into a hallway set off from the side of the teller desk where he was attempting to get money.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. He should have more help than this. I know Shadow said this is his to deal with, but I’ve never gone into a situation so blind before in my life. There are always too many factors, too many possible outcomes in a situation like this to go in with no intel.
I’ve seen two other guys come out from behind the door Bryan disappeared behind, both dressed in semi-nice suits, both looking exactly the way you think a douchey mob guy would look. It was comical almost.
Just as I’m about to get up and kick the door in, Bryan emerges with his hands clutched around a wad of bills. Somehow that fucker went from bum of the year to the possessor of at least ten grand in cash.
The next two hours is very painful to watch. Bryan is able to lose every single penny he got from the guys behind the wall. I’m seriously considering asking him if he wants to play poker once this whole job is over. Seems it would be a very lucrative endeavor for myself.