Page 121 of Forgotten Sacrifice

“Put me down for Boston.”

“Excellent,” I say, making a notation in my little book. “Shall we start with a dime?”

He snorts a laugh. “Let’s go big and say five dimes.”

“You got it, boss.” Mr. Barone has no fucking clue he’s bet five thousand dollars on a game he’s sure to lose.

I keep the booze and the bets flowing all night. He won’t be able to pay me back, and that’s the point. It’s a future’s bet I’m wagering, not on Mr. Barone, but on his up-and-coming chess star daughter.

Look at me pivoting.

Vince

“You were right about your suspicions, why I would lend your broke-ass father money. He was a means to an end. My endgame was always you.”

“I hate you,” Luna says between sobs, running out of the bedroom.

Not as much as I do.

Chapter

Forty-Five

Vince

“Why are we at Bridget’s apartment?” Luna breaks the silence when we pull into the apartment complex.

“Not Bridget’s apartment. Yours. I thought you might want to be close to your friend.” I park, and hold up a key. “I’ve paid the rent for a year. Stay here, or move wherever you like.”

“I don’t understand.” She takes the key.

“I’ve written off your old man’s debt. Returned your prize winnings. Bank information is on the coffee table inside.”

“And what, I’m supposed to be grateful?”

I rub the back of my neck before throwing my hand down in frustration. “I don’t know what you’re supposed to be. Go live your life and find out.”

“Vince—”

“You’ve got your freedom, Luna. Kiss me goodbye.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

I smile sadly. “And there’s my little ray of sunshine.”

“I’m not your little anything. You made damn sure of that.” She slams the door, and I watch her disappear inside.

Luna’s right. She’s not my little anything. I console myself with knowing it’s for the best.

That knowledge is doing a shit job of consoling me. Hence, the bottle of whiskey.

“Vince, are you alright? You don’t drink.” Aldo joins me from the back of the bar.

I tip the bottle back, welcoming the burn.

“Vince?”

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Hit me.”