The mobster was smart, but I was smarter. I set Bax up. No two ways about it. I betrayed my only friend, sold him up the river so I could save Dovie, so my dad would be forced to be Novak’s puppet. I led Bax into a trap, knew it was going to end badly, but because Bax was Bax, he had made everything ten times worse by running from the cops. An arrest that should’ve resulted in six months at the most turned into a total shit show that had him getting locked up for a solid five years and had me taking Dovie and disappearing until he got out and I could exact my revenge. I lived with the guilt and the threat of Novak hanging over me for five fucking endless years.
As soon as Bax got out of jail, I set things in motion, took over the chessboard, and started moving pieces around that would free all of us from Novak’s hold. Only once again, Bax had thrown a wrench in the plan by falling in love with my sister and giving a really bad man a vulnerable place to attack him from. Bax was ready to sacrifice himself, to burn the entire Point to the ground if it meant Dovie made it out alive. Luckily, things hadn’t had to come to that, and everyone made it out, beaten, broken, and slightly worse off than before. But Novak was no more, and now we were rebuilding the underground, the foundation of this horrible place, brick by oily, soiled brick, because if we didn’t then somebody else would.
My dad had cast me out, watched me with wide, panicked eyes, waiting to see if I was going to sell him out. He cut me off financially, disowned me, pretended like he never even knew me, all while knowing I could bring his lux and ostentatious world down around him at any minute. I steered clear, wanting to make sure Dovie was insulated from him and his desperate machinations. My father knew that Bax was in Dovie’s life, knew that no one was getting to her unless they went through him first, and for now that was enough. Keeping her safe was top priority, always. It was one of the main reasons, besides not having any other legitimate way to make money, why I was doing what I was doing.
In all honesty, I was born to run numbers. I had a mind custom made to be a bookie and a loan shark. I had a photographic memory. I remembered every name, every face, and every dollar amount owed and borrowed of the people I dealt with. I didn’t need a spreadsheet, didn’t need to write anything down. The feds would never find a little black book, never find incriminating evidence on my computer. It was all up in my noggin, safe and sound. It made figuring the lines and the spreads easier as well. I had endless scores, miles of stats, all the schedules of every game, team rosters for days all lost up there, just waiting to be recalled when needed. It was pretty sweet for me, but not so much for those that were risking what they didn’t have to lose. I didn’t forget, so there was absolutely no wiggling out of a debt, no tying to argue what was owed, which is why the garage was full of boosted cars waiting on their owners to be accountable.
I poured another Scotch and was stripping down to hop in a shower before bed when my phone rang. It always went off. People wanted to place bets, wanted to ask for money at all hours of the day and night, but the ring tone trilling throughout the loft belonged to Dovie, so I dropped my jeans and tucked the phone to my ear while messing with the shower. There was no middle temperature in the loft, it was either burning hot or freezing cold.
“Bax just left. He should be there shortly.” It was a twenty-minute drive from the heart of the city to the burbs where Bax and Dovie lived, which meant he could make it in ten.
She laughed a little. It always made my heart swell to hear the unfiltered joy she had inside of her now.
“He’s home already. I just wanted to check on you. Brysen mentioned there was a shootout at the party, and Bax told me you went to collect money unarmed . . . again.”
There was censure there. I never would’ve thought I would be in a place where my little sister was encouraging me to carry a gun.
“They were just kids. It was fine.”
“Whenever someone is shooting at you, it isn’t fine. Someone could have gotten hurt.”
By “someone,” I assumed she meant Brysen. They were close and Dovie didn’t have many friends, so I understood her subtle warning. I needed to be more careful when and where I conducted the nitty-gritty tied to my business dealings.
“I made sure she got out safe.”
Dovie sighed. “Thank you, but I was talking about you too, Race. I can’t have anything happen to you.”
We all had wounds that were still trying to mend back together in the aftermath of Novak’s fall.
“I know, girly. I know.”
She made a noise and called something to Bax in the background.
“Brysen doesn’t get out much since she moved home. It sucks her one night off from work had to end that way.”
I shoved a hand into the water and yanked it right back out. Ice cubes couldn’t be any colder. I shivered and twisted the knob the opposite direction.
“Why does she work so hard? I thought her family was pretty well off. I know she lives in a nice area, has a nice house.”
Dovie sighed again. “I don’t really know the entire story. When I stayed with her while things with Bax were all over the place, I got the vibe that she’s running the house. She takes care of her little sister. I didn’t even see the parents while I was there. You should know better than anyone not to judge people based on the zip code they grew up in.”
Fair enough.
“I’m getting ready to take a shower. Are we good?”
“I love you, Race. Please keep that in mind.”
“I know, Dovie. Believe me, I know.”
“And I think Brysen has a crush on you.”