“Encouragement to sign up for the blackjack tournament at the Wynn.” My head dropped back on the pillow and I focused on keeping my breathing even for a few long moments. That shit hurt and bad, but if I answered their questions now, I wouldn’t have to see them again.
“They just came up to you one day and asked you to count cards for them and then showed up a few weeks later to do this to you?” Mob lawyer pointed at me, or specifically, my injuries, suspicion lacing his words.
“No, they came by a few times to convince or intimidate me, whatever you want to call it.”
“And you didn’t think to call the police?”
“For what? So you can accuse me of some shit I had no part in? Right.”
“Except you did,” he countered.
“As a minor and you can’t prove it. But if you want to try, go ahead. Just don’t contact me, contact my lawyer.”
Seventies Detective cleared his throat and glared at the younger man. “That’s not necessary, Ms. Sutton. You’re the victim.”
“Really? Because I think someone failed to tell your partner.” I turned my head away. “I don’t know the guys’ names. What I know is that Krissy owes them money, a few hundred grand. Now I’m done talking.”
“We have more questions.”
I stared at Mob Lawyer until he shrugged, gave up and walked away.
“Most victims want our help, Ms. Sutton.”
I rolled my eyes at the line cops always dragged out when they wanted more information than they had. “Intimidating victims isn’t the best way to get us to open up, and somehow I knew that counting cards at sixteen would be all you heard.”
He seemed sympathetic, but I was pretty sure they taught that look at the police academy. “Are we planning to handle this ourselves,” he asked, brown eyes directed squarely at Savior, who’d been surprisingly quiet, if tense as hell beside me.
“Not if we don’t have to.” They stared at each other, some kind of macho mental pissing contest before Seventies Detective walked away.
This was my life now. Two men standing on either side of me, talking about me like I wasn’t there. Wounded in a hospital bed because of some chick I used to know and this was the perfect excuse for Landry to fire me.
Facing charges for the old card counting schemes didn’t worry me. I didn’t need a get-out-of-jail card—I needed a get-out-of-town card.
Chapter 18
Savior
“Shit Mandy, I’m sorry.”
What else could I say after hearing everything, all laid out like a hand of cards for the cops? If I had a heart, it would’ve broken for her. For the shit she’d gone through when I promised to look out for her, for all the losses she suffered and for the pain written all over her face. She was stronger than even she knew, protecting herself the best she knew how even when it got her hurt.
“Not your fault,” she said, trying for flippant, but it came out tired. Frustrated.
“Maybe, maybe not.” I couldn’t have her let me off that easy. “But it is in a way because I should have been there for you when you were a kid. If I had been, you wouldn’t have needed to do what you did to survive.”
She rolled her eyes, ready to make light of the situation. “It was counting fucking cards, dude, not selling my ass.”
I huffed out a laugh. “Things might have been easier if you had. You think the casino owners would’ve cared that you were a teenager?” They wouldn’t have and thinking about what they would have done to her if she’d been caught, made me want to fucking puke. “I really am sorry.”
“For fuck’s sake Savior, I was never your responsibility. Whatever promise you made to Ammo, forget it. He’s not here to kick your ass or haunt you, or whatever has you so worried.”
“According to you, but I made a promise to your brother and I fucked that up.”
She shot me a grin, full of sarcasm. “As long as it’s all about you.”
“Of course.” I spread my arms wide with a confident grin, inviting her to look me over until she did. Thoroughly and with heat in her eyes. “Watch it, Pixie. You’re too hurt to be looking at me like that.”
“Never too hurt to look, babe.” She grinned and her gaze slid up and down my body one final time. “Look, Savior, I know you feel guilty about whatever you feel guilty about but you don’t need to stick around here. I’m fine but they’re worried about a concussion, so I’ll probably be here another night or two.”