Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
I blink back tears, coming hot and sudden. “You’re talking like you’re already dead.”
“I stole from the Sunrise.”
“Still, there’s got to be something you can do. Get out of town. Disappear somewhere.”
“Case,” he says, sounding regretful. “We both know I won’t.”
I say nothing. Tears drop onto the tile floor. He’s right—we both know it. Shane’s an addict, and no matter what, addicts stick around where they can get their supply. He might disappear for a bit, but he’ll resurface sooner or later in some drug den with some asshole dealer.
“Anyway,” he says after a little while. “I should go. Just wanted to check in, you know?”
“Yeah. I know.”
“Be good. I mean it, Case. Be good. I love you, kid.”
“I love you too.” I bite back a sob. I hate this so much. He hasn’t said that to me in years, not since we were little kids.
“Yeah, all right. See you.”
Then he hangs up.
I stare at the phone in my hand.
Shane knows he’s going to die.
This was his way of saying goodbye. And instead of railing against it, instead of sounding angry, he only sounded resigned, like he always knew he’d be brutally murdered by a casino boss one day.
That’s what the city does to it wayward sons. That city, Atlantic City, it’s built on the spines and the corpses of all those that got sucked into its darkness and sin. That city corrupts, it kills. I can feel its pull at night in the desperation of my clients as they roll their dice, make their bets, hope for that one final score, that one moment of ease and bliss in an otherwise bleak walk from gambling floor to bland room and back again. Over and over, stuck in a loop. My brother is stuck too, and he knows it.
I leave the bathroom, wiping my eyes. Roxie sits up straight when I come back into the room.
“Casey, what the heck? Are you okay? Is Shane okay?”
“He’s fine,” I say, shaking my head. “But he knows, you know? He knows what’s going to happen to him.”
Roxie’s quiet. She stares at her lap before gesturing me over. I sit down next to her, and she wraps her arms around me in a tight hug.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m so, so sorry.”
I nod against her, release one last sob, then pull myself together.
Because I don’t have to mourn my brother’s death.
I can stop it. I can save him. I have the power, only I’ve tried to avoid it.
Hearing Shane like that, it crystallized the stakes, how this is about more than me.
I hate Adler Costa with a passion that hurts in this moment. I hate him so much—he’s the source of all our pain.
He’s the killer, the blackmailer, the beast.
And on Monday, I’m going to marry him.
Chapter 9
Casey
On Monday morning, I march my ass into the Sunrise an hour before my shift, hunt for Zach, and demand a meeting with Adler.
Zach stares at me for a long while as he leans up against the bar closest to the front door. It’s a space-themed lounge—patrons love the twinkling star lights and the vaguely retro sci-fi decorations—and I get the sudden feeling that I’m drifting out into the blackness, lost in between the planets, in the infinite nothingness between stars.
“You sure about that?” he asks as if he knows what I need a meeting for. His tone isn’t judgmental, only curious.
“Please, can you just tell him I’m ready to talk?”
Zach shrugs. “All right. I hope it’s good though. Mr. Costa doesn’t like to be bothered.”
“Zach,” I say through my teeth. “Please.” It’s frustrating that I have to jump through hoops when all I want is to forget about this whole situation.
He winks at me and walks off. I ask the bartender, a young girl named Macy, for a shot of bourbon. “Bit early for it?” she asks, eyebrows raised. “And aren’t you working today?”
“Macy. Please.”
She shrugs, sets me up, and I knock it back to help calm my racing heart. I pay her in cash and leave a decent tip. Hopefully, that keeps her from blabbing about my moment of weakness.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t work, and Macy shakes her head when I request another.
I’m left sitting alone at the bar for a few minutes. The hotel wakes around me. Some patrons are still gambling away from the night before, and others are stumbling down after a mediocre night of restless sleep, but they all look the same to me. Same haunted expression, same eagerness. Like they might find meaning in the cards.
But there’s nothing, never was, never will be. I see it all the time, how the cards don’t even fix what’s wrong.
Adler takes the stool next to mine. I don’t even see him approach, too lost in my own depression. He signals Macy and she brings him over a coffee as if she knew he was coming.