Page 64 of Saxon

"Exactly. Takes the sting out of losing their money." Camilla glances at Terra. "Does it shock you?"

Terra snorts. "Hardly."

"The girls who work in here have all volunteered, you should know." Camilla examines her fingernails. "Working the card clubs is a coveted thing for my girls. The pay is exorbitant."

"So you're a madam?" Terra asks.

"I am many things," Camilla answers. "Come. I have a room upstairs."

We follow her up a hidden flight of stairs, at the top of which is a door guarded by two men in suits, each wielding compact submachine guns. One of them opens the door as Camilla approaches. The room on the other side is a private lounge, once decorated for masculine tastes—wood-paneled walls, thick plush carpet, and heavy gold accents. Camilla has softened it with tasteful artwork and an elegant leather couch, but the battleship of a desk still screams "mafia kingpin."

She indicates the couch and seats herself behind the desk. She swivels in the chair and pours a couple of fingers of whiskey from a cut crystal decanter, swiveling back to face us.

"What did you do with Anthony?" She asks me.

"Kneecapped him and left him at Luka's."

She frowns. "Why? He was following orders."

"I don't do babysitters, and he wasn't listening."

"That was uncalled for, Saxon. I'm quite put out. He was one of my favorite boy toys. Talented tongue, well-endowed, and loyal."

"He'll live. He just won't be running any errands for a while. Hobbling errands, maybe."

"Not funny."

"It's a little funny. You should know me better, Camilla. I'm playing along, for now. Don't make the mistake of thinking I’ve softened."

"I heard you didn't kill any of the Cabal men who have come after you."

"It's true. I took a vow not to kill." I give her the cold, hard stare that has left many others shitting their pants. "There's a lot you can do, short of killing a person. I think you know this."

She regards me without expression. "Interesting. The Cabal's most feared assassin has taken a vow not to kill. And he has a little woman in tow."

"Don't patronize me, bitch. I'll kick your ass, gun or no gun." Terra's glare could burn a hole in a brick wall.

Camilla ignores her. Focuses on me. "You should have let them kill me, or you should have killed me yourself. You did me no favors."

"I never once killed an innocent person. Every mark I ever eliminated had a fuckin' ocean of blood on their hands."

"I have blood on my hands, Saxon."

"Yeah, now. Not then."

"I've wished you killed me many times over the years. I've hated you. Thought about ways of torturing you before I killed you."

"Wasn't me who did that to you," I say, flicking a finger at her face.

"No, it was my own father." She holds her hair back and turns her head to the side, revealing that the scarring extends down her neck and under her dress. "Poured boiling salt water on me. On the open wound."

"Fuck me," I growl. "Why? Jesus."

"Because of you."

"Again, I'm sorry. But how is that my fault?"

Her mask cracks. "Because I wouldn't give you up! I knew where you were. I knew that…that woman took you and squirreled you away in Las Vegas. I don't know who she works for, but whoever he is, my father didn't dare move against him. The Cabal doesn't dare, either. I protected you, Saxon."