SINdicate: A BT Urruela FanFiction Novel: Cerberus MC Book 1.5 (9 page)

I have to keep my wits about me, so pretending to be drunk at first arriving is easier than actually drinking to get drunk once I’m here. I sit down at a blackjack table with a handful of other seedy looking guys. I’m hoping my dirty, ripped t-shirt, crappy shoes, and Walmart brand jeans are enough to convince whoever it is handing out loans that I’m desperate.

I dropped everything in Tampa and headed this way within twenty-four hours of finding Aviana’s father, so there was no time to let my beard get shaggy. I had to shave it. I’m going to fuck these guys up even harder just for that. I can still taste the shaving cream and bitterness as I toss back a shot of tequila.

“Hit me,” I tell the dealer on eighteen. It’s a stupid fucking move, and everyone at the table knows it. I get the king the next guy would have hit twenty-one with.

“Stupid fucker,” he grumbles as the dealer throws down a six on his eleven.

Ten hands later and I’m “broke” and sitting at a now empty table. My shitty hands have made everyone around me get up and find a table where people who actually know what they’re doing are playing.

“Fuck,” I grumble and get up from the table. I head to the teller to make a withdrawal knowing I won’t have any luck there either.

I stand before the ATM for fifteen minutes, swaying back and forth, cursing it for all it’s worth because it won’t spit out money. I’m hoping I’m putting on a good enough show because I’m starting to feel like a schmuck.

“I can’t get this to work,” I slur handing the teller my card.

“How much would you like?” She asks as she swipes the card into her computer.

I laugh loudly. “How much can I get?”

She frowns at her screen. “This says you have thirteen dollars and forty-eight cents in the account.”

“I’ll take it!” I say with an excited slap to the counter.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she says handing the card back to me. “We can’t make withdrawals less than twenty plus the fee.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I yell louder than I ever should speak to a woman. My dad would kick my ass if he saw this. She shrinks back slightly, and I feel like a total asshole now. Poor thing, it’s not her fault.

She stands taller, and I can tell she’s looking at someone over her shoulder. I’m hoping it’s who I need and not security.

“I get paid tomorrow,” I tell her for good measure.

“You should come back tomorrow,” she says with more backbone that she had just the minute prior.

“Come with me, sir,” I hear a gravelly voice say from behind me.

I fumble and fall into him as I turn. “Easy there,” he says grabbing my upper arms to help me steady myself.

“Thanks, man,” I mutter.

“You having trouble with your card?” he asks.

“Yeah. My direct deposit hasn’t hit yet.” He’s wearing a nice suit and not a security uniform.

“I bet I can help you out.”
Pay dirt.

“That’d be great, man.” For impact, I wipe my mouth on my arm like a drunken man with no money.

“Follow me,” he says and turns toward a door beside the teller’s station. Access to the loan shark right beside her. How convenient.

He uses a passcode to unlock the door then holds it open for me. It slaps shut behind us, and the sound reverberates off the walls sending a wash of unease down my spine.

Thirty yards down the narrow hall and a quick elevator ride into the bowels of the casino and the man in the suit steps up to a closed door. “Vinnie SINclair” is posted on a placard beside the door. Suit man knocks and gets an “It’s open” from behind the door.

“Hey, boss,” suit man says walking into the office. I follow him like the lost, poor puppy that I am. “This guy needs some help until his direct deposit hits tomorrow.”

“Have a seat.” Vinnie, I presume, is sitting behind a heavy desk in the center of the room. Just like any classic mob movie from Hollywood, he’s obese, wearing an ill-fitted suit, and smoke from a cigar curls up from an overfull ashtray on his desk.

Doing as he’s instructed, I flop down in the single chair that’s in front of his desk. I groan in relief and allow my head to roll slightly on my shoulders.

“How much you need?” Vinnie asks.

I glance over my shoulder and see suit man near the door, looking bored with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Couple hundred,” I tell him. “My check is about that much this week.” I rub my hand over my bare face and immediately want to kick this fat bastard in the face. If this whole ordeal goes south, I’m certain it’s because I had shaved off the beard.

“You look familiar,” he says with narrowed eyes. My blood runs cold. Fuck my life if this thing is over before I can even get started. “You borrow from me before?”

Relief washes over me. “Nope. I never borrowed from anyone. It’s just been a shitty year, but my luck’s changing. I can feel it.”

Suit man huffs a chuckle from behind me. Apparently they hear that a lot around here.

“I don’t loan out a couple hundred,” Vinnie says, blowing a puff of smoke in my face.

“Thank you for your time,” I say and attempt to get out of the chair. In my “drunken state,” it takes a few tries.

“I can do a little more,” he says as suit man puts a hand on my shoulder indicating I need to stay in the chair.

“Sure, okay,” I say with an over exaggerated shrug of my shoulders.

“I’m a businessman. You gotta sign a contract,” Vinnie informs me.

“I’ll sign anything you want if I can get back out to the tables before my luck runs out,” I slur.

He pulls a stapled packet from a drawer in the desk and slides it across to me. I snatch a pen from the cup on the desk and flip to the back page.

“When do I have to pay you back?” I ask holding the pen above the signature line.

“Loans this small have to be paid in a week,” he informs me.

I nod my head and sign on the line.

“You ain’t gonna read that first?”

“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t say you’ll kill me if I can’t pay,” I say with a shrug of my shoulders.

They both release a menacing laugh as I slide the contract back over to Vinnie.

“Can I get a copy of that?” I ask because after that laugh any person would ask for one.

“I’ll keep it safe for you right here,” Vinnie says as he files my signed contract in the drawer.

“It’s all yours,” he says slapping a stack of bills in front of me.

The two straps on the hundred dollar bills read “Ten Thousand.” I gulp a swallow and know immediately how easy it was for Aviana’s father to rack up so much debt to these men.

I manage to lose every penny of the loaned twenty thousand dollars in less than two hours. I stumble out of the casino around midnight, knowing I’m either going to get lucky with this whole thing, or I’d just signed my own death warrant in the shittiest casino in Las Vegas.

BT

I have a week to figure who these guys are and where they’re keeping Aviana. They took a copy of my driver’s license and made me fill out a form with my motel information before I left Vinnie’s office. I could feel eyes on me with each staggering step I took last night on the way back to the crappy motel room.

I’d waited a few more hours inside the room to make sure whoever followed me was just verifying I’d told the truth about where I was staying. By three in the morning, I was sure they’d left to go swindle some other poor bastard who was down on his luck.

Less than five hours later and we were parked with the rear entrance to the casino in our sight. Kid stayed on a slot machine near the teller’s station after he saw them take me back. He got a better look at some of the players than I did. Suit man and Vinnie were the only ones I had contact with. I suddenly realize my stupidity at thinking I could do this alone.

“I had a good look at two other guys last night that took people back,” Kid says with a mouthful of breakfast sandwich.

“I can’t believe I blew twenty thousand dollars. It’s hard as fuck to suck that bad at blackjack,” I mutter.

“What exactly is your plan?” he asks after a long swig out of his Styrofoam coffee cup.

“I’m hoping we can follow them to where Aviana is.”

“And then?”

I shrug. “Then we pull her out and go back home.”

“Didn’t I hear you tell Shadow that they took her from Tampa?” Kid asks keeping his eye on the back of the building.

“Yeah,” I said realizing what he’s going to say next.

“And you think just taking her back makes it all better? That they won’t come for her again?” I hate the way his laugh sounds bouncing around inside the car.

I didn’t think this shit through at all.

“We have to get inside,” he says more to himself.

“I,” I say correcting him. “I have to get inside.”

“How do we make that happen?” He asks turning his attention to me.

“I have to bait them and hope it works, I guess.”

“I guess?” he says mocking me. “This poor girl. She’s fucked if you’re all she’s got.” He says it without malice, and I begin to wonder if he’s right.

We watch the door for another hour in silence. Sure he’s running scenarios through his head like I have been, I look over at him.

“If they come for me, and they take me, you need to let that happen,” I tell him. I make my tone one that can’t be argued with, but it doesn’t stop this young one.

He shakes his head no. “That’s not how we work, man. Kincaid would have my ass if something happened to you on my watch. I mean you’re your own man, and can do whatever you want, but I’m not coming under fire with my Prez. No fucking way.” He shakes his head no for emphasis.

“Well this is my plan,” I begin. “Tell me if you have a better one.”

***

Kid grabbed another rental car so we can watch both the back of the casino as well as the attached hotel. I’d feel more comfortable doing this recon shit with an entire team, and I’m already regretting not taking Shadow up on his offer to send more guys.

We’ve watched the place all week. We’ve followed the guys we could identify each time they’ve left, but they never lead us anywhere but other shitty casinos and back alleys where they meet up with men who clearly have been unable to repay their debts.

These guys are brutal, and I’m not looking forward to what I’m sure is coming for me. Climbing out of the shower this morning, my burner phone rang with an unlisted number coming across the screen. It had the Vegas, seven oh two, area code so I knew what to expect.

“Hello,” I grumble into the phone.

“You got my money, Mike?”

Vinnie.

“Vinnie!” I say in an excited tone. “I’m gonna hit it big tonight. I just need a little more time.”

“That right?” He says and I hear the exhale of his cigar smoke into the receiver. Even over the phone, this fucker is practically blowing smoke in my damn face.

“I feel it my bones.”

“That’s what you said last week before you blew your whole wad before leaving my place.”

“So you got it back,” I say stupidly. “We’re even then right?”

“Yeah, okay, Mike. We’re even.” More smoke being blown into the phone. “See you soon then, see ya real soon.”

The line goes dead, and I know it’s go time.

***

The door to the motel shatters off of its hinge, and for a split second, I’m grateful I used an alias and paid cash for the room. I yell and rouse from what the men must assume is sleep. What else would two guys be doing in a motel room at four in the morning?

Three guys storm into the room, which surprises me. They’ve only been working in pairs the times we’ve seen them confront people. I smile inwardly, because even though I can wear shitty clothes and play the part, I can’t hide my build. Muscles cover my six-foot-one-inch frame, and clearly they’re anticipating a little more resistance than usual.

One guy grabs for Kid and holds him back. I know Kid could fight him off if he wanted to, but that’s not part of the plan. I can tell by the look in his eyes he’s not very happy with letting some guy manhandle him without resisting.

“Let go of me,” he demands wrenching his shoulders slightly. “Who the fuck are you?”

The guy holding him doesn’t answer. I jump off the bed and end up with my back against the wall. Not the best position to be in.

The remaining two guys head for me, and I give them my best. I catch one man on the jaw as he unsteadily comes across the bed. His feet tangle in the sheets, and crashes into the wall beside me. He hit pretty hard but not hard enough to keep him down for long.

The third guy cages me in deeper in the corner. My fist connects with his jaw. The satisfying pop makes me smile as I watch his eyes go wide. Call me a masochist, but I feed off of the energy I’m giving when his fist lands against my face. A quick jab to the stomach makes him curve around his clenching hands.

I’m about to knee him in the nose, when the guy on the ground grabs my leg and pulls it out from under me. I fall forward. With nothing to grab hold of, I crash to the ground. Both of the guys are on me before I can get back up.