Page 30 of Gambler’s Ruin (Calamity City Mafia #3)

SEVENTEEN

HAVOC

The Palacio Diamante looms over us with its flashing lights and diamond theming. I stare at the sign, then look at Caleb behind me. The driver has already driven away to find parking.

“You guys really couldn’t get through to Valentín Diamante?” I ask.

Caleb shakes his head. “Dad said Valentín stonewalled him. His calls wouldn’t go through, Valentín was always busy, etc. etc.”

“Sounds about right.” I never had close dealings with Valentín Diamante, but I do remember him being a somewhat elusive figure. If you didn’t know the right people, you would never get to meet him.

I sigh and walk into the casino. It’s as loud as the Roi de Pique, although the music being filtered through the speakers is Latin American music. The crowd is different here too, more visibly Latino people than at the Roi, and all the signage is in Spanish first, English second.

“The things we do for Seven,” I mutter.

It’s not that there’s actually bad blood between me and the Diamantes.

Most of the Diamantes probably don’t know that I even exist. I wasn’t exactly part of the group; I hung out with a lot of Diamantes based on common background, but especially as an angry teen I didn’t like the idea of being forced to follow somebody else’s rules.

I got enough of that at home.

After I’d been kicked out of the military, there’d been nobody else willing to talk to me, so I’d come back to the Diamantes.

The start of one of my biggest mistakes.

I spot that mistake by the reception area, chatting with one of the ladies behind the desk. He’s holding a drink, smiling.

He’s as pretty as ever, the well put together outfit and the styled hair, the charming smile.

It had been enough to draw me in, especially when it turned out he liked the same kind of sex I did: rough, ruthless, and with a good dose of pain. I hadn’t needed to hold back with him.

Too bad I can’t stand anything else about Paris Nazario.

I know he’s spotted us, but he takes his time in sauntering away from the desk to approach us. The Diamantes have made it clear that we’re here at their leisure, not ours, and he’s probably under orders to make that disparity clear.

“Well, if it isn’t Caleb Spade,” he purrs, his eyes flicking appreciatively up and down Caleb.

“And… Javier.” His voice is considerably less friendly when he addresses me, but his attention returns to Caleb.

“I thought you and I could play a few rounds of blackjack to make you more comfortable. Shall we?”

Caleb nods and steps forward. “Nice to meet you. Mr. Nazario, correct?” He glances around the casino. “It’s been a while since I’ve been here, but it looks good. Much improved over when I visited in my teens.”

“It just needed the proper management,” Paris says with a chuckle. “But the same could be said of the Roi de Pique, couldn’t it?”

“Indeed,” Caleb answers.

I roll my eyes at all of this. “Cut the crap, Paris. Can you take us to see Valentín Diamante?”

“No,” Paris says with a sunny smile. “He’s busy. You’ll have to deal with little old me, mi amor.”

This is what I hate about him. Nothing was ever straightforward with him. At least Caleb is upfront about most of his crap.

“I’m not your lover , ” I hiss in Spanish.

“It’s fine,” Caleb says. “Blackjack, right? Havoc has a knack for blackjack.”

“I suppose,” Paris drawls, “we could lift the ban on him playing for a few hands.” He turns to me, adding in Spanish, “If you’re going to make it worth my time.”

I glare at him and shake my head. “I wasn’t banned. I remember you begging ?—”

Caleb clears his throat. “If you aren’t going to play, that’s fine, Havoc. But do remember why we’re here.”

I clench my fists and take a deep breath.

I’m not going to lose control.

I’m not going to act rashly.

“Fine,” I say, slightly calmer. “Lead the way, Senor Nazario.”

Paris grins at me. He knows he’s getting under my skin. It’s what he always does, trying to needle me, and it’s only because this is for Seven that I don’t walk back out of here. “Of course,” he says, turning and striding through the crowded casino.

The slot machines chime and trill, the lights flashing and rewarding those who have likely spent hours gambling their lives away. Like at the Roi de Pique, it’s necessary to go through this section of the casino before getting to the tables.

Paris leads us to a more secluded blackjack table near the back. A man is sitting there, placing bets.

“Go find another table,” Paris says to him in Spanish. The guy turns to argue, but as soon as he sees who it is, he nods and picks up his chips.

He forgets a few of them in his haste to get away.

“You do things differently here,” Caleb says as he takes the seat the man vacated. He picks up one of the forgotten chips and examines both sides. “Nice design. Who do you order from?”

“Calamity City Casino Supply,” Paris replies, taking a seat at the opposite side of the table. “I can put in a word for you if you’re interested in commissioning some, if yours are getting old and tired.”

“If you’re buying from them, you’re spending too much,” Caleb responds. “I found the same quality but cheaper via?—”

I groan and take the remaining empty seat. I take one of the forgotten chips and set it in front of me. “Hit me, dealer, so I don’t have to listen to them talk shop.”

The dealer nods and deals the first card to each of us. I start my count, then tap the table to signal for another card. Caleb and Paris do the same.

“How do you know Havoc?” Caleb asks. “He’s never mentioned you before.”

Paris smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Some people don’t know a good thing when it’s right in front of them,” he says, gesturing to stay with his nineteen. “Isn’t that right, mi amor?”

“I know a bad thing when I see it,” I answer, tapping for another card. It brings me to twenty-two, but I don’t care.

Caleb stays as well, and the dealer ends up with a seventeen, meaning Caleb and Paris both win.

I glance at Paris. “I have no more chips. Who’s covering me?”

Before Paris can answer, Caleb throws three hundred dollars on the table. “One-fifty for each of us,” he says to the dealer.

The dealer takes his money and doles out the chips for us.

Paris chuckles. “Still depending on other people to pay your way, huh?”

“He’s here for work,” Caleb says. “I believe in treating my employees right—and not making them pay to entertain business contacts.”

The dealer takes cards from the shoe to pass to all of us. I automatically do my mental tally, even though it doesn’t matter.

“Is that all we are, Javier?” Paris asks. “Business contacts?”

“I don’t know we were ever more than that,” I say. “We had some fun, but don’t pretend that we liked each other.”

We had a lot of fun—when we were having sex. Paris’s love of pain worked out well for me, except for the part where he doesn’t bottom. We’d done a lot of handjobs and blowjobs in the most awkward locations, with a lot of fighting leading up to it.

I never wanted to spend time with Paris not fucking him.

Paris’s smile briefly turns brittle, then he’s all sunshine again as he asks, “How’s your mom?”

I freeze. “She’s fine,” I say through gritted teeth. Never mind that I haven’t properly talked to her in over a week.

I’ve been avoiding her as much as she’s been avoiding me.

The dealer hands out the next set of cards. I split my bet and tap for another card on each set.

“How long until Mr. Diamante is ready to meet us?” Caleb asks, tapping in front of himself. “As riveting as the conversation is right now.”

“He’ll join us when he’s ready,” Paris replies. “Surely you understand what it’s like to be busy and have so many demands on your time, Mr. Spade.”

“I also know what it’s like to maintain business contacts,” Caleb says. “I’ve already met with Virgil Club and Blake Heart. Is Mr. Diamante saying he has no interest in friendly relations between our families?”

Paris gestures for another card. “If he wasn’t interested, he wouldn’t have agreed to the meeting at all,” he says. “But I understand your… misgivings.” He smiles again. “Give him another five, ten minutes. Enjoy yourselves. Would you like a drink? I’m sorry. I’ve been a careless host.”

A server walks up to the table, summoned by his words, and sets drinks down in front of all of us. She serves small empanadas too, and I almost eat one before I realize that this is another stalling tactic.

“We don’t want your food,” I growl. “Cut all this crap, Paris.”

“Our chef would be devastated to hear you call our food crap,” Paris says lightly, picking up one of the empanadas and taking a bite. He chews and swallows thoughtfully, then glances at Caleb. “Five minutes, no more. Eat, drink. Relax. There’s no need to be in such a dour mood.”

It’s not going to be five minutes.

It’s going to drag out, the way it always did. He’s going to play games with Seven’s life and taunt me the entire way. I make a frustrated sound and get out of my chair, stalking over to Paris.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” I hiss, grabbing his collar.

The dealer makes a surprised sound, and Caleb grabs my shoulder.

“Havoc!” Caleb snaps. “Stand down.”

I ignore him, glaring at Paris. “Call Valentín down now.”

Paris leans in close to me, like he’s going to kiss me. “Or what, mi amor?” he taunts.

The dealer shouts to somebody in Spanish, “I need backup! There’s a guy attacking Mr. Nazario!”

“I’m going to beat you to a pulp,” I growl, readying my arm for a punch. “I’m a lot stronger now than I was a year ago, pendejo .”

“Havoc!” Caleb tries to pull my arm down, but he’s not a match for me on raw strength. “This isn’t helping. Think of the long-term consequences!”

Paris laughs, but he grabs my wrist in his own attempt to stop me from messing up his pretty face. “Javier hasn’t thought of the consequences of his actions once in his life, Mr. Spade.”

“Think of Seven ,” Caleb says, a lot quieter.

I make another frustrated sound and shove Paris away from me. He huffs from the impact against the blackjack table.