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When I was at the dogfight, I had a different story, a different life, a different lie. This environment is higher class. The vaguer I am, the easier it'll be to keep track of hopefully.He nods, peering at his cards.
"Byron Michaels." He holds his hand out, and I shake it firmly. "I keep my businesses closer to home. Easier to dominate the masses when you control their vices."
I grunt in response, a sinking feeling coming over me. It's largely how the Vipers are run, though with more morals. If we control the underbelly, we're able to make sure no one abuses it. Helms runs the Reapers much the same way, but he has the added benefit of aligning with the Kings and Byrns. We’ve been doing a lot of business with the mafia families in Synd through the Reapers since Helms and I reconnected after my father died.
Hopefully, my half brother Maddox can maintain whatever relationships we have until I can return. He never did get along with Helms despite us all growing up together. Actually, Maddox never seems to get along with anyone he can’t control.
"A worthwhile cause," I say with a grin.
Men's voices shout over the music from another game across the room. One takes a swing at another, screaming about cheating, and several men rush in. They're subdued and marched from the room. Their shouts are cut off when the back door slams shut.
A woman screams from the stage when someone leaps up next to her and grabs her arm. Her fingers wrap around the pole, hanging on for dear life as he yanks at her body. Whipping my head around, I search for more security to stop him, but they watch the scene with passive gazes.
He breaks her grip and hauls her through the back curtain, her sobs trailing in her wake. Disgust turns my stomach, but I drop my gaze to my cards. I'm in this for the long haul. Blowing my cover and saving one girl won’t help the multitude of others the Guild has stolen away from their lives, no matter how much I wish otherwise.
Byron's hand lands on my shoulder. "Don't worry. He'll have a little fun and she'll be back. Then you can have your turn."
It takes me a beat, but I tip my head. "I'm surprised this place hasn't been shut down yet. Be a damn shame when it is."
He grins, throwing more chips onto the growing pile. "You won't have to worry about that. The Guild runs this place, Cruz. No one would touch them regardless, but we've got quite a few higher ups in our ranks."
"High enough to actually matter? I'd hate for one vigilante to bring them to their knees."
He eyes me, but I keep my concentration on the game. Since I've sat down, several rounds have gone by without my really noticing. Somehow, I've accrued a pile of chips. Mostly I'm just throwing out random bets, more concerned with the information Byron is dropping. I toss more into the middle, and the man to my right curses, throwing his cards on the pile.
"Bold bet putting a thousand in the pot with that river," Byron says.
"What's the point of being meek when you're not? Powerful men don't hesitate, do they, Michaels?"
"Certainly not," he murmurs, a calculating look entering his eyes. "We have a few judges within the fold. Not to mention the mayor of Rima. He has a specific proclivity he can't engage in anywhere else."
"Don't we all?" I say with a smirk, even as my chest tightens.
The dealer pushes the pile of chips in my direction, and I shake my head. Panic crosses the young man's face and he signals one of the bosses. A burly man stomps over, swiping the chips into a bucket before marching to the back.
"Not going to stick around and let me win my money back?" Byron asks, flipping a chip between his fingers.
"I find myself in need of some fresh air and perhaps some other entertainment. If you're still here when I'm done, I'll be sure to stop by," I say, pushing from the chair.
"Be sure that you do."
The boss comes back, handing me a stack of bills. I don't bother to count it, just shove it in my pocket. There's only so much of a place like this I can stand before I'll lose my temper. Plus, with the way Michaels is eyeing me, I'd rather not get into a position I can't get out of.
I nod to the man, then weave my way through the tables, intent on the back door the others were escorted out of. No one stops me as I exit, the spring air washing over me and cooling my heated skin.
The rankness of the dark alley invades my nose and bile builds in my throat. I wonder how many decaying bodies have been tossed in the dumpster, leaving nothing behind but a revolting smell. This would be the perfect time to be a smoker to mask the foul stink.
Most of the traffic has died down this late, with only a few cars passing the entrances of the alley. A dumpster sits several feet away, and I move toward the light filtering through the open mouth of the alley, hoping distance will help with the smell.
Peeking around the corner of the building, I scan the sidewalk. A few men loiter around the front. If this place was closer to the city center where the clubs are, they'd probably fit in, but on the quiet street they stick out.
The door behind me slams open, and Byron steps out, growling into his phone. Prowling back and forth, his face flushes, then he hangs up. I wish I could have overheard his conversation, but he seemed to be listening more than talking by the time he came outside. I'm surprised he hasn't noticed me yet, even though he's buried in his phone.
Someone peers out from behind the dumpster, eyeing Byron. Leaning more into the shadows, I track the kid's movements as he slinks closer to the older man. When he crouches, the light from the streetlamp illuminates his face and I realize it's the same man who tried to lift my watch. My heart pounds in my chest, and I'm torn between warning Byron and letting this play out. He may be my only ticket into the more elite activities the Guild puts on. I can't let this opportunity pass me by.
The kid produces a knife, light glinting off the blade as he steps closer to Byron.
"Wallet," he squeaks, his voice barely reaching me. "Now."
