Page 75 of Ruin Me With Lies

Dog with a bone, much?I sigh.“What, you want me to confirm what you already suspect?That Lucy Rainford’s either backstabbing you or playing both sides?”

His brow lifts a fraction.“What makes you assume I already ‘suspect’ that?”

“There are cartoon gangsters.Pussy-behind-a-gun gangsters.And smart, brain-between-the-ears gangsters,” I say.“The first two rise fast and die just as fast.The latter almost always outlive their enemies and tend to live full, complete lives.”

He scoffs and gives me a once-over.“And how would you know?”

“You didn’t get to where you are by being an idiot.”I cross my legs.“The real question is, if you already know what Lucy is up to, why haven’t you done anything about it?Are you letting her off easy because, well…she getsyouoff?”

He leans back in his chair.“Maybe.”

Hmm.No denial about them hooking up.

“Ah, so youdoshow mercy,” I say, ignoring the irritating little stabs of jealousy.“As long as the threat to your empire is a bombshell with legs for days.”

Impassive dark eyes lock on mine for a long moment.He leans forward, lips parting like he’s about to respond…

But his phone buzzes again, slicing through the tension.

Another clipped conversation.Another muttered curse.And again, he’s gone.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m pacing again, stir-crazy from being cooped up in this windowless cave.

Yeah, I’m leaving the room.

Breaking the rules is nevernotfun.

I try to slip on my shoes, but the strap chafes against my bandaged ankle.Barefoot it is.

When I amble out the door, I’m met by an armed hulk patrolling the corridor.

“You ain’t supposed to leave the office,” he rumbles.“Boss’s orders.”

I blink up at him, all sweet and innocent.“Did he happen to mention what you’resupposedto do if I ignore those orders and leave anyway?Are you supposed to shove me back in?Hit me if I resist?Are you even allowed to touch me at all?”I tilt my head and lift a brow.“Because we both know how he is about people messing with what’s his…”

The man shifts awkwardly, brows pinching together in confusion and uncertainty.Just the reaction I was going for.

As I saunter past him toward the elevator, I toss over my shoulder, “Next time, ask your boss to be a little more specific with his orders.”

I ride the elevator down to the ground floor and craftily dodge the patrolling guards until I get to the casino.

Black Gold Casino is a living, breathing creature.Buzzing with lights, music, laughter, glitter and greed.The harmony of slot machines, clinking chips, shuffling cards, boisterous betting calls, tumbling dice, and the whirl of the roulette wheel creates a sweet, sinful melody of reckless but fleetingly felicitous life decisions.

There’s a pulsing energy in the air, a coaxing dulcet inducing the urge to spend…spend…spend…join in on the fun.

Pausing at the edge of the chaos, I scan for an easy mark.

There.A crowded roulette table dominated by an overly large man, drunk off his ass and riding a winning streak.

Perfect.

I weave my way into the raucous crowd, sidling up to the table just as two skimpily dressed women lean into the corpulent drunk, squealing and fawning as he insists each of them blow on the dice before every toss.

Biding my time, I cheer along with everyone, blending in like just another tipsy thrill-seeker.Then, when everyone’s locked in on the spinning wheel, holding their collective breath for the winning number, I make my move and stealthily swipe a stack of chips from where the lucky drunk has his winnings lined up along the edge of the table.

The crowd erupts as the winning number hits again, and I slip away in the chaos.No one the wiser.

Twenty-five hundred dollars richer, I meander through the casino until I find myself at a blackjack table occupied by three jowly geezers puffing fat Cuban cigars and sipping their weight in top-shelf liquor.