“Let’s go grab a drink. Maybe we’ll come back to the tables after—shake off our luck,” Maluck said, stretching like he was just so exhausted from losing so much money.

  Dennis perked up immediately. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” Because he only heard one thing: Come back to the tables later. Which meant he still had a chance to borrow more money.

  They headed toward the casino lounge, Dennis walking just a little faster than necessary—like a man sprinting toward his last chance at happiness.

  The bartender, a guy with the exact level of enthusiasm you’d expect from someone who’d spent years listening to gamblers complain about the universe being rigged against them, greeted them with a bored, “Hello. Any luck?”

  “Nope,” Dennis muttered, looking like a man who had lost both his money and his will to live in the span of an hour.

  “Well, it’s against the law for us to comp drinks in Canada,” the bartender said, handing them two small slips of paper, “but here’s two beverage vouchers. You can use them for anything you want. Including sodas.”

  The way he said it made it clear that no one, in the entire history of this casino, had ever used them for sodas.

  Maluck took the slips and nodded. “Two whiskeys.”

  The bartender handed over their drinks with the same disinterested professionalism.

  They grabbed their glasses and headed to a booth. Dennis immediately downed half of his in one go, staring into the remaining liquid like it contained the meaning of life. Maluck, on the other hand, took a slow sip, sighed dramatically, and stood.

  “Be right back.”

  Dennis barely acknowledged him, too busy internally begging the universe to just give him one damn win.

  Maluck made his way to the restroom, pulled out his phone, and called Chloe.

  “Chloe, how’s it going?”

  “All good,” she said. “We’ve got everything.”

  “Cass, you on the line?”

  “Yep,” Cass replied. “And… are you talking to me from the bathroom? I can hear toilets flushing.”

  “Hey, where else am I gonna get some privacy?” Maluck said, completely unbothered.

  “Ew,” Chloe muttered. “You could’ve just… walked outside.”

  Maluck ignored that. “Can you guys meet me at the Silver Mirage with the paperwork? We need something solid to really nail this guy.”

  Cass hesitated. “Well, I’ve got all the evidence, but not enough for a court case.”

  “I don’t need enough for a court case,” Maluck said. “We just need to show him that we know what we’re talking about.”

  “In that case,” Cass said, “yeah, we definitely do. I’ll get the printouts and meet you there in fifteen.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “Perfect.” Maluck hung up and took a second to check his reflection in the grimy casino mirror. This was definitely the kind of place where you didn’t want to inspect the cleanliness too closely.

  He washed his hands and walked back toward the booth, rolling his shoulders and mentally preparing for the next phase of his plan.

  Dennis looked up as he sat down, his eyes still darting toward Maluck’s pocket where he knew a fat roll was sitting waiting to be spent.

  Maluck smirked. ‘Oh, I’m gonna really squeeze this idiot.’

  ***

  Maluck’s phone buzzed with a text from Liquor guy:

  “We’re here. Where you at?”

  Maluck smirked and texted back.

  “Lounge. Come in.”

  A few moments later, Liquor guy walked into the casino with a couple of his friends. They looked exactly how you’d expect—greasy, rough, and absolutely the kind of guys you didn’t want to owe money to.

  Dennis looked up. His face went pale. He suddenly didn’t like where this night was going.

  Maluck leaned back in his chair. “Hey, guys. Nice to see you. This is my buddy, Dennis.”

  Dennis swallowed hard. “Uh… hi.”

  Liquor guy looked over at Maluck, then at Dennis, then back at Maluck. He didn’t know exactly what play was happening here, but he was smart enough to roll with it. “What’s up?”

  Maluck smiled. “Oh, man, I was just about to tell Dennis about that guy who owed you five grand. Broke both his knees, right?”

  Liquor guy caught on instantly. “Yeah,” he said, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “It was brutal. But hey, gotta make your money back, right?”

  Maluck turned to Dennis. “Crazy, huh? But I mean, they only do stuff like that for big debts, right?”

  Liquor guy shrugged. “Depends.”

  Maluck pulled out a roll of cash. “Anyway, I’ve got two grand from what I owed you guys from yesterday.”

  Liquor guy raised an eyebrow. ‘Two grand? That was what he charged Maluck for the security gear.’ He took the cash with a smile. “Appreciate it.”

  Maluck continued, “And the other $1,500? Well, I lent it to my buddy Dennis here. So… you can collect from him.”

  Dennis blinked. “What?”

  Maluck nodded. “Yeah, that was their money. But don’t worry, you were gonna pay it back, right?”

  Liquor guy grinned. “Yeah, it’s not a problem. Let me just grab your ID.”

  Dennis shot up. “Wait—”

  Liquor guy didn’t ask for the wallet. He just took it. A quick flip, and he had Dennis’s ID in his hands. He snapped a picture with his phone, then tossed the wallet back on the table.

  “Dennis Lamont,” he read off the ID, his voice slow and deliberate. “Got your address. $1,500. We expect it back tomorrow. Shouldn’t be much of a problem, right?”

  Dennis’s mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air.

  Liquor guy smiled, tucked his phone away, and patted Maluck on the shoulder. “Pleasure doing business.” Then, with a small laugh, he and his crew walked off. He was pretty happy, he had made $400 profit off the security gear, and tomorrow he was going to get $1500 for free. Making friends with Maluck had definitely been a smart business move.

  Dennis, still frozen, turned to Maluck. “I thought you won that money? You didn’t tell me that money was borrowed from bikers.”

  Maluck shrugged. “I mean, I won it, yeah. But I needed a stake first.”

  Dennis gestured wildly. “But you still have money in your pocket! Why don’t you pay them?”

  Maluck gave him an innocent look. “Because that’s my money. And you owed me money. So I just… transferred the debt. Makes sense, right? You were gonna pay me back anyway.”

  Dennis stared at him. “Right…” He didn’t say no. But he wasn’t saying yes, either.

  He had no intention of paying Maluck back.

  But there was a very big difference between owing Maluck—a guy who had just donated a junker car—and owing a biker gang that now had his address.

  $1,500 wasn’t an impossible amount. He could probably scrape it together if he had to. But having to? Knowing he had to?

  Yeah. He was pissed.

  Dennis glared at Maluck, but Maluck just smiled. “Hey, hey, don’t look at me like that. I still have cash. We could go back to the tables, and you could win enough to pay the bikers back.”

  Dennis narrowed his eyes. “And you’d loan me the money? You, personally. Not the bikers again.”

  “Oh yeah. No problem.”

  Maluck wasn’t even thinking of playing at this point—just stalling for time.

  And then—right on cue—the real reinforcements arrived.

  “Ah, look! My friends are here.”

  Dennis stiffened.

  Last time Maluck said that, it was bikers.

  Now?

  Dennis slowly turned, eyes darting around the casino.

  Who was it this time?

  ***