The walls inside this room are lined with windows and outside, I can see the view of the street I pull up on each time I arrive. There's a white camera stationed outside the far left window. I haven't been to or seen the camera room yet, but I'm a.s.suming it's in this particular building and probably near Hoss' office.

"Finished a little later than I'd hoped," I inform him. "Girls are good for the evening."

Hoss. .h.i.ts me with a look of curiosity. I still haven't decided if or how I'll tell him how my meet with Koslov went. It's his club, but being that Hoss isn't the one I need to use to get closer to Casey, I don't feel the immediate need to share what went down.

Hangar, sitting next to Hoss, however, pins me with a look of disdain. "Surprised you're allowed back there. Those wenches are off-limits to us lowlife's who are actually part of the club." His eyes move to Hoss, who sits at his right, and sneers, "Looks like Max is the new favorite, and he ain't even one of us. How did that f.u.c.kin' happen?"

Hoss turns his body toward Hangar, who I now know is his adopted son, and sneers his own words. "You have somethin' to say, you say it."

Sitting back in his chair, Hangar casually replies, "Thought I just did."

While dismissing Hangar's comment, Hoss turns his attention to the table. Iron, looking nervous, and Wick, seeming a little drunk, sit quietly waiting for his instruction.

"Deal the f.u.c.kin' cards, Ci."

Cilas, still sitting next to me, has ignored my presence since I entered the room. While he shuffles the cards, Hoss explains, "Five card draw. In two hours, winner with the most chips wins braggin' rights. Funds from the buy-in go to the club. Consider it a contribution."

"Bragging rights?" Wick questions. "We usually get..."

Hoss quiets him while looking at me. "Club members only, Wick."

Wick's eyes drop to the table in front of him. "Got it."

"Don't let me hold you up," I tell them, thinking I don't want any part of this anyway. "I can catch you next time."

"We're good," Hoss states, turning his narrowed eyes at Hangar. I a.s.sume he's waiting for a response, but Hangar's too busy counting his chips. We've not started and he's already looking to be ahead of the others.

Hoss pulls out a cigar as Cilas deals. While lighting it, he asks, "You play cards, Max?"

"Not so much," I answer, looking around the room for a beer.

"Well, it'll be easy to take your chips then, won't it?" He smiles while biting down on the cigar and giving me a view of his yellowed teeth.

As I look at my cards, I maintain my composure.

A pair of aces.

Hoss doesn't realize my poker face has been set for weeks while being here. I can get through a card game without issue.

Throwing three cards back, I reply, "Probably easier to take my money at this than a game of pool."

"Maybe you'll play Cilas then. He's good at pool."

I turn to Cilas after Hoss' comment to find him still ignoring me. I think it best to stay quiet. I suck at pool anyway.

After a few rounds of cards are dealt, I take a quick glance around the table and find Hangar and I are the only ones left with full stacks in front of us. The clock on the wall is ticking and although I'm not excited about having bragging rights, I'm more certain I'd rather have me win it than the piece of s.h.i.+t sitting with yet another club wh.o.r.e on his lap.

She walked in about twenty minutes ago, dressed in a see-through, fishnet black gown. When she arrived, she traipsed herself right into his waiting arms. It has to be said I don't understand the attraction, other than his position within the club, as to why women flock to him. Hangar's greasy blond hair, pock-marked face, and lanky body build has zero appeal to me, but I've never seen a woman look at Cilas or the others in the same l.u.s.t-filled manner. Even Hoss has more or less been club wh.o.r.e-free.

"Holy s.h.i.+t, Hang!" Wick calls out, watching me lay down three kings.

Hangar's face doesn't change form. He looks incredibly confident.

"That's how we're playin' this, huh?" he asks the table as a cigarette dangles from his mouth, the smoke forcing his eyes to narrow.

Hoss sits quietly next to him, playing with the undealt cards before peering over at Hangar's hand. His eyes come to mine before a small smile plays across his lips.

Hangar drops his first three cards first. Three aces. I f.u.c.king lost. The last two come next. A pair of twos.

"Boat!" Iron exclaims, slapping Cilas on the back and getting no reaction from the muted man.

"d.a.m.n! Time's about up." Wick advises, putting out his cigarette. "I'm out."

Hoss starts to pick up the cards, using his fat hand to form the deck. "One more hand. Then we're done for the night."

"I gotta hit the head," Hangar calls out, pus.h.i.+ng the wh.o.r.e from his lap and standing.

Hoss starts to shuffle as Cilas leans back in his chair. They make eye contact again as Wick and Iron remain quiet. I don't get it.

"You're welcome to stay here tonight, Max. It's late and there's room," Hoss explains.

Thinking of my conversation with Viktor and all I've seen since being back, I don't think it's a bad idea. It may help mend the time since I've been away.

"May do that, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. Several ways to pa.s.s the time, too. If you're looking for somethin'." Hoss nods to the wh.o.r.e I paid my buy-in to. I hide my disgust by smiling back as if I'm considering it.

Just as I hear Hangar return to the room from behind me, I also hear a voice call my name. It sounds distant and m.u.f.fled. When I turn around, I see Dee Dee. Her face is, for lack of better terms, even more f.u.c.ked-up. Her hair is matted on the side with dried blood and her clothes are stained with it.

I hear the gasp from the redhead near the door before Dee Dee starts to address me. "Max," she starts. "I didn't know you'd be here."

Her words and tone sound much different than they had been earlier. She sounds almost sober and looks like she hasn't had a hit of something since I last saw her. Her body twitches in place and her eyes are having trouble staying focused. Her body tenses with nervousness, so staying in my twisted position, I nod to her in greeting then reposition my focus to the front of the table.

"Anyone need a drink? Dee's here to service." I don't miss the way Hangar phrases this as a statement meant to be vile and s.e.xual. He's walking back to his chair, and his eyes are holding mine.

"Hang, shut up and sit the f.u.c.k down," Hoss calls out.

Hangar does as he's told, for once, and moves to take his seat next to his master. Hoss' eyes don't leave Hangar's until he's seated, calm, and ready.

"Last hand. I'll deal to Max and Hangar," Hoss informs, already starting his deal.

Once I have my hand set, keeping a four clubs' flush in hand, I tell Hangar. "Your turn."

The others watch me hold four back and their interested focus moves to Hangar. His eyebrows furrow as he slides three cards to Hoss.

Lifting the card I asked for and praying like h.e.l.l it's a club of any kind, I hold in a devious smile when I find it is. I have a Jack-high flush. It's not perfect, but unless Hangar's holding a powerhouse that's equal or better, it'll beat most.

Hangar picks up his cards and starts arranging them in his hand. His face is telling me nothing.

"Go ahead, princess," he nags at me from across the table to show my hand.

I lay my cards down all at once and immediately Hangar angrily stands, throwing his cards on the table with a heavy hand.

"f.u.c.k this!" he shouts to the room.

Cilas, sensing this is about to get worse, stands and steps away from the table. He takes two steps then stops next to Hangar.

Hoss belly-laughs, and the table shakes with the movement. "You f.u.c.kin' lost, Hang. Deal with it. It was a good game."

"He didn't win," Hangar explains. "Rules are rules, Hoss. He's not part of the club, so he's not part of winning what the club offers. I win."

"It's a poker game, Hang. For f.u.c.k's sake, shut up," Hoss tries to explain, but his son isn't listening to a word. He's having none of it.

After pus.h.i.+ng my chair back in, I stand. Hangar rushes to me before Cilas can stop him. He appears to be foaming at the f.u.c.king mouth.

"You're a dead man," he whispers.

Leaning in, I whisper back without caring about the others in witness. "I'll gut you like a pig if you ever lay another hand on Dee Dee again."

His head pulls back, his cheeks jumping as his eyes narrow. "f.u.c.k you. That b.i.t.c.h is mine."

"For now," I tell him, leading him to the false impression that I want her.

I f.u.c.king don't, but seeing his anger satisfies me. As I start to walk away, I don't chance another look at him, but hear him pull out his chair due to the slamming of the metal as the legs. .h.i.t the concrete floor with a slap.

Once I've pa.s.sed the redhead sitting back at her spot with the money, I open the door and hear her asking where Dee Dee went.

I don't have the time or patience to care.

Chapter Seventeen.

It's nearly two in the morning by the time I get back to Casey's room. Before I went in search of Anna, I stepped outside to take a break from the chaos and catch my breath. The night air was chilly, and it did as I hoped it would. My mind was able to clear briefly while I reached into my saddlebag and pulled out the book Em wanted me to give Casey.

I tucked it behind my back and under my s.h.i.+rt to avoid the others who would happen to see and question. Viktor gave permission, so by all rights I should've been able to walk in and give it to her, but it wasn't worth further ha.s.sle.

When I checked the messages from earlier on my phone, I found only one from Emma.

Emma 09:36 p.m. Be safe.

I texted back quickly, trying to remain focused. I couldn't hang around outside waiting for her to answer, so I pocketed my cell and went back in.

After waking Anna in her room at the club, walking with her to get the key, and deciding not to talk to her about anything Viktor and I discussed, I'm finally in Casey's room.

She's sleeping.

Her back is to me as she lies on her side, facing the cement wall. I can't see her body with any detail because it's dark and the moon's rays are hitting dead center, only around her furniture. I take a few seconds to appreciate the knowledge that, for now, she's still safe.

Her old and worn cover is drawn up to her chin; her small, bare foot, which holds the fastened white strap, sticks out at the end of the bed. Casey's not a tall girl, but the childlike mattress she sleeps on is too short for her growing body.

She's becoming a young woman, Viktor's words chime in my head.

Casey doesn't move to turn around, so I a.s.sume she's not only asleep, but sound asleep.

Not wanting to disturb her, I start to back up carefully, but stop when I see her body turn in my direction.

"Max?" she calls out. Her voice sounds only tired, not afraid.

"Monkey," I whisper, stepping back into her room before I quickly turn to shut her door. I have no way to lock it from the inside and the way I left Hangar's anger, and even Cilas' disgust, I wish I had something to bolt the door.

Sitting up in her bed, I watch in the muted light as she moves her dark, tangled hair from her face. She rubs her eye then continues to adjust in her seated position.

"I didn't mean to wake you," I tell her. "I was about to go home, but wanted to check in."

"Go home?" she replies, and this time her voice is laced with a hint of fear.

Moving toward her slowly, I take a seat at the end of her bed. The book at my back s.h.i.+fts and starts to wedge out of place, so I grab it before it's able to fall.

"Not for good," I a.s.sure. "Just for the night."

Casey nods, staring at what I'm holding in my hand. With the bed on the cement floor, I stretch my legs, lean my back against the cement wall, and gently set the book in my lap. My legs stretch past the mattress, and I cross them at the ankles. I lean my head on the wall behind me, taking in the view Casey must see every day.

It's sad and depressing, and I wonder how she has such a gentle spirit after living in solitude for so long.

"Do you remember your Aunt Emma?" I ask quietly.

Casey looks at me, tilts her head, and nods as I catch a shadow of a small, but sad, smile crossing her lips.

"She wanted me to give this to you," I tell her, handing over the hardcover children's book.

She grabs it from me and runs one hand over the colorful cover.

"She wants to see you again," I comment and wait for her to talk. When she doesn't, I ask, "Would you like that?"

The hand not holding the book moves to her face. I can't see what she's doing, but the swipe it makes under her eye tells me she's catching a fallen tear.

"She loves you, Casey," I tell her with sincerity, using her real name versus the nickname I coined her with weeks ago.

Casey's gaze finally moves away from the book and back to me.

"Aunt Emma remembers me?" Her question, voiced with so much hope, causes me to smile in appreciation of her strength.

"She does," I tell her. "You're going to see her again soon," I promise, knowing I shouldn't.