Page 5 of Jackpot Joker

I nod and stand. It looks like I’ll be joining my boss for lunch, whether I want to or not.

Chapter 4

Dario

“You never let me have any fun,” I complain.

“You killed a man in your office,” Gio deadpans.

I cut my eyes at Luca. I should have known he would report me to our oldest brother. They’ve always been thick as thieves and, more often than not, the ones who have to clean up my messes. Not that I leave much of a mess behind when choking people.

Luca remains unbothered, so I look back at Gio. “That was just a little killing. I barely wrapped my fingers around his throat, and he was gone. I need more action.”

Gio snorts. “I know which rooms you like to visit at the club. You see plenty of action.”

“Not the bloody type,” I whine. Giovanni pinches the bridge of his nose as Luca stands stoically beside him. It’s the way things are between us. I stress Gio out with my jokes. Our brother Luca relieves his stress. By way of killing it. Literally.

“How about this? If you can be a good boy and get us the warehouse we need, I will let you cut the tongue out of the man we have in the storage locker.”

The man he’s referring to is Leon Romano, an imbecile who thought he could get away with trading information about the weapons shipment he was covering in exchange for a few thousand dollars. It’s truly a shame he won’t be able to spend that money on the drinks and hookers—his words, not mine—he had big plans for. The Caruso family is serious about loyalty. Dead serious.

I contemplate my brother’s offer. “Is he still alive?” Gio cuts his eyes to Luca, who gives the tiniest nod.

“Will he still be alive when I get back?” I ask.

Gio repeats the process, but this time Luca shrugs, and I groan. “I’m not cutting out the tongue of a dead man. They’re boring.”

My oldest brother huffs. “We’ve been over this, Dario. Luca’s the one in charge of those who double-cross us. You handle the lawyers and the media better than we do. Your pretty face helps mask the dark side of our business.”

“Aww,” I gush, batting my eyelashes. “You think I’m pretty.”

Luca snorts before returning to his sentry-style stance. Gio rolls his eyes.

“Dario, we have to obtain that property across town, or else we have nowhere to store millions of dollars’ worth of weapons. Since our latest acquisition was compromised and Luca hasn’t extracted all the info we need from Leon yet, I can’t guarantee that whoever he gave information to isn’t aware of our other properties. I will not jeopardize this shipment and all that we have because you’re being insolent and whining about not getting your turn to stab somebody.”

I gasp, clutching my metaphorical pearls. “I am not whining about not stabbing somebody. I just got a new Ruger semi-auto I want to try out.” I cross my arms and sigh, further proving my brother’s point.

Luca snorts again. “A Beretta is better.”

I scoff, “You’re aging yourself with that one, old man.”

“It’s a classic,” he continues. “Reliable. Silenceable.”

“Is that even a real word?” I ask, and Luca nods. “Hmm, who knew?”

Gio pinches his nose again, an annoyed sign I see often. “If I take you to the storage locker so you can shoot the man in the kneecap—no higher,” he warns with his finger extended in my direction, “then will you please go about purchasing the warehouse?”

I jump out of the plush, black leather wingback chair across from his solid black desk to shake his hand, “It’s a deal.”

He groans, and Luca shakes his head, but Gio doesn’t meet my hand to confirm our deal. Instead, he stands and straightens his solid black suit—there’s clearly a theme with my brother—before gulping down what remains of his favorite bourbon. Luca stands and moves to Gio’s side, as always, and I follow them out of Gio’s office. We make our way through the casino they own together. The whistles of the slot machines and aggravated groans from the tables have me lighting up, making me the brightest thing in the casino’s soft, red haze. Our family owns several hotels and casinos across the country, but here in Las Vegas, right on the strip, we have my bright, beautiful baby, Angelo, next door to my brothers’ dark Demone. I suppose it makes sense to those who believe they know us to see me as more angelic than my brothers, who are always very serious and slightly scary. Little do those people know that in my family’s world, there is no such thing as angels.

Did you know that if you accidentally shoot someone in the crotch rather than the kneecap, it results in profuse bleeding that can spurt across the room and land on your tan, linen trousers? I really liked that pair, too. Now, Gio is mad at me for being a bad shot (I can’t help it that I’m better with my hands), and Luca had to do some unexpected cleanup, resulting in a slight castration of Leon. Probably best for those hookers—again, his word, not mine—that things aren’t going to work out.

One second, Gio was in my face, yelling about how this is why I’m the face and not the muscle, and the next, there was a small plop followed by the muttered words, “Oh, fuck.” After reaching down to assure my own family jewels were still firmly attached, I left my brothers to deal with the aftermath of cleaning up the good ol’ cock and balls, and now I find myself pulling up to the valet outside Jorgensen & Munson law firm in a fresh outfit.

I toss my keys at the young man who eyes my car like he might cream himself the moment he sits inside of it. I swear, if he fucks up the leather interior of my Porsche, it won’t only be one man losing his balls today. Walking through the large glass doors, I smile, knowing what a breeze this meeting will be. We have an entire team, or counsel as they call it, we work with at this firm, but there’s one person in particular I prefer to see. With some mild flirting, Megan Miller is putty in my hands, and I would like to get this squared away before she goes on maternity leave.

The pretty, raven-haired receptionist sits behind her wooden command center. She somehow remains professional as she directs calls and people to their destinations while showing off an impressive amount of cleavage. When she catches my eye, I can’t help but notice the way she takes in a breath, licks her lips, and straightens her shoulders to jut out her tits. She runs her hands through her hair to fluff it up a bit before saying seductively, “Good afternoon, Mr. Caruso.”