“You look well,” Nico said to Max when the server retreated.
It was a lie. Max looked like shit and he knew it, but he wasn’t interested in defending his appearance anyway.
“I think I know how Jason is cleaning the money,” he said.
Farrell raised an eyebrow. “Come again?”
Max was thrown by the accent all over again. Farrell looked too mean to speak like some kind of English scholar.
“I know how Jason’s laundering DeLuca’s money,” Max said. “Or some of it, anyway.”
Nico did a good job of hiding his surprise, but Max caught it in the appraisal of Nico’s eyes, as if he’d just discovered something about Max that he hadn’t expected.
“And you know this how?” Nico asked.
“I’ve been casing the Tangier,” Max said.
“Well, well, well,” Farrell said. “You’re not useless after all.”
“I’ll let you be the judge of whether I’m useless. It’s a job you seem to enjoy.”
To his surprise, Farrell cracked a grin. He lifted his glass toward Max. “You’re not wrong, mate.”
Max couldn’t even muster the energy to be offended. He hadn’t been helpful since Abby left town, and it wasn’t for lack of trying on Nico’s part. The other man had tried in vain to shake something loose in Max, some kind of motivation to get him back in the game, some memory or knowledge that would put Jason’s connection to DeLuca back in play.
And they needed it in play. To hear Nico tell it, the Syndicate was working to implement a new mode of business for their criminal enterprises around the world. The new model meant no trafficking, no selling drugs to kids, no taking advantage of small businesses who couldn’t afford to pay for protection.
DeLuca didn’t like the new model. Neither did Jason. Both had been approached by the Syndicate with an offer to join the fold.
Both had refused.
Taking DeLuca out wouldn’t have been a problem in and of itself. It was Jason who was the issue.
Jason wasn’t a known criminal. He wasn’t some shady character from the streets that could be taken out with a quiet bullet to the head and little subsequent media attention.
He was high-profile, revered by MBA students looking to make their first million before they hit twenty-five, pursued for interviews by Forbes and Fortune magazines. And there was something else: Nico had informed Max that in the wake of the FBI raid on the DarkNet game, Jason had hired a private security detail — and not just any detail.
Jason was now trailed by a group of formidable men led by none other than Bruce Frazier.
When Max had been in Special Forces, Bruce had been a bigger boogeyman than the enemy forces they fought in the alleys of Afghanistan. Word was, Bruce was for sale, willing to take out even his brothers in arms if the vendetta was worthwhile, the payoff lucrative.
Max had never met him, had always assumed the stories were more legend than reality.
Now he wasn’t so sure.
Max had seen Jason only once in his time casing the Tangier. He’d been sitting at one of the roulette tables facing the front of the casino when Jason walked in through the main entrance. His appearance in the casino was surprising — Abby had told him Jason entered quietly through the parking garage, usually before everyone else in the executive offices arrived — but it was the men who surrounded him that got Max’s attention.
There were five of them, all clad in not-very-subtle tactical gear, four of them surrounding Jason in a protective formation Max knew well. The man at the front was positioned as Jason’s body man, clearing a way through the crowd by his sheer size and the expression of vacant intent on his face.
Max hadn’t known who he was, not at first. It was only after he’d reported the sighting to Nico that the Syndicate’s cyber labs had gotten to work identifying the men from photographs. The knowledge that Jason had hired Bruce Frazier to head up his detail had turned Max’s blood cold, and he’d suddenly been glad Abby was gone in spite of the cold wind blowing through his heart.
The presence of the detail — and especially Frazier — added additional risk to killing Jason, and because Jason was intertwined with the DeLuca family, eliminating leaders in the DeLuca family carried additional risk as well. There was no point to a hostile takeover of the Vegas territory if it meant so much focus on it by law enforcement that the Syndicate couldn’t take it over.
Max was pulled from his thoughts by the return of the server with their next round.
Nico waited until he left to speak. “Tell us about the money.”
“There are three men who come into the Tangier at the same times every day,” Max said. “They always wear the same thing, and they always leave the cage with a case.”
Farrell shrugged. “No shortage of money — or gambling addicts — in this town.”
Max ignored the hint of derision in Farrell’s voice. Not everyone loved Vegas like Max did. It was something he and Abby had in common, their love for every face of the city, for the glamour of it at night, the washed out beauty of it in the harsh sunlight, like a forgotten woman, faded but still beautiful.
“Do they always lose?’ Max asked. “Do they lose a case full of chips every day without fail?”
Farrell’s eyes betrayed no interest when he spoke. “Go on.”
“They come away from the cage with a case,” Max said. “That means at least five hundred thousand. They stick around for an hour or two, then walk away empty-handed. They do this seven days a week, and they always wear the same clothes.”
“They’re signaling Jason through the cameras,” Nico said. “Signaling that they’ve made the drop.”
Max nodded, leaning back in the booth. “Exactly.”
“How is it paid out?” Nico asked.
“I haven’t figured that out yet,” Max said. “But it wouldn’t be hard. It could be paid out to a shell company listed as one of the casino’s suppliers or even with a cash dump somewhere.”
“An important detail, don’t you think?” Sarcasm dripped from Farrell’s words.
“We’re not there yet,” Nico said. “Let’s put somebody on these guys, have them surveilled. We should confirm they’re part of DeLuca’s crew before we go any further.”
“And then?” Max asked.
Nico turned his glass in his hand. “If it’s true, it gives us a move we didn’t have before.”
Max looked at him. “We take the tip to the FBI?”
“No.” Nico met his eyes. “We steal it.”
Four
Abby didn’t know what to expect as the woman named Angel followed her into the bungalow.
“This is lovely,” Angel said, looking around the cozy room. “It reminds me a little bit of Bali. I lived there for awhile."
Abby gestured to the sofa. “Please, have a seat.”
Her voice sounded too calm for the hammering of her heart, the flush of nervousness that was spreading throughout her body.
The woman had mentioned Max. Was she one of his girlfriends? Had Max been seeing her while they’d been together? Was this yet another bomb about to be dropped on the already-teetering foundation of her life?
Angel sat on the sofa, her face open and trusting, her smile gentle and sincere. “I suppose you’re wondering how I know Max.”
Abby perched on the edge of a chair and nodded.
“The truth is, I don’t know him at all,” Angel said. “We just thought it would be better if I came.”
“We?” Abby asked.
“My husband is Nico Vitale, but I have a feeling you don’t know the name.”
“I don’t,” Abby said.
“I didn’t think so,” she said. “A couple months ago, my husband approached Max with a business proposition.”
Abby stood. “If this is about that disgusting game, I don’t want to hear it.”
“It is,” Angel said. “But not in the way you might think. Please… I’m not doing a very good job of this, but if you give me a chance
, I think you’ll be glad I came.”
Abby had no reason to trust the woman. She didn’t know Angel Vitale. Didn’t know her husband. Didn’t want to know anything more about the poker game that had proven Max a monster.
But there was something about Angel, about her big green eyes, her open face, that made Abby trust her.
She sat down with a sigh and Angel continued.
“I can’t go into the details of my husband’s business.” Angel hesitated, like she was sifting through words in her mind, discarding ones that wouldn’t work in an effort to be discreet. “But in the course of that business, he got wind of some dealings in Vegas that gave him pause, dealings that went beyond the underground gaming and prostitution and drug use that most people expect there.”
“I don’t know what this has to do with Max,” Abby said. “Or me.”
“My husband has his reasons for wanting to shut down the kinds of operations I described, but there was something standing in the way. Something powerful. Or more specifically, someone,” Angel said.
“Max?”
“Jason Draper,” Angel said.
“Jason?” It wasn’t at all what Abby had expected Angel to say.
Angel looked down at her hands. “This is going to come as a surprise. It’s not what Jason led you to believe. About Max.”
“I saw it,” Abby said. “I saw him playing.”
“I know,” Angel said softly. “And it’s really shitty that Jason did that to you. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t understand.” Abby was having a hard time catching her breath. A hard time figuring out exactly what Angel Vitale was saying.
“Jason Draper was running Darknet poker games from a house outside the city,” Angel said. “He was profiting from them, and that’s not something my husband and his associates can allow. They approached Max and asked him to infiltrate the game.”
Abby shook her head. “What do you mean infiltrate?”
“They asked him to go to Jason and make amends for their falling out, in an attempt to get into the game.”
“Assuming I believe you — and I’m not sure I do, what good would it have done to have Max there?” Abby asked.
“The idea was to get enough evidence to take to the FBI,” Angel said. “The Bureau had tried to get someone into the game before, but it was locked down. Invitations were hard to come by if you didn’t have some kind of association to Jason Draper or the DeLuca family — ”
“The DeLuca family?” Abby knew the name, had heard the rumors like everyone else in Vegas, rumors that said the DeLuca family was an offshoot of the old New York families that had brought the Italian Mob to the States.
“The games were run in conjunction with Fredo DeLuca’s organization.” There was an apology in Angel’s voice that Abby didn’t understand until a moment later. “As are a lot of Jason’s activities.”
Abby stood. “I think you should go. I don’t know you. I don’t know anything about any of this.”
“The DeLucas used to be run by an umbrella organization,” Angel said hurriedly. “That organization was dissolved a couple of years ago. My husband’s business took its place, but in the meantime there was a power vacuum, and Jason stepped into that vacuum to work with the DeLuca family. They’ve been running various illegal enterprises for over a year. One of them was the DarkNet game Max infiltrated to get evidence.”
Abby turned away from Angel and walked to the window that overlooked the beach. The sky had become angrier since she’d been inside the bungalow, an ominous bank of clouds descending over white-capped water.
She crossed her arms over her body to hide her shaking hands. If Angel was telling the truth, Jason had lied about Max to turn Abby against him. He’d done it even though he must have known how it would hurt her, how it would hurt Max.
Then again, maybe that had been the point. Had Jason somehow known about her newly intimate relationship with Max? Is that why he’d done it? Or had she and Max just been names on Jason’s list of conquests, another way to prove that he was all-powerful?
She could see him as he’d been the day he came into her office with the flash drive that showed Max at the poker game. At the time, she’d thought he’d been sorry. In hindsight, she saw the gleam in his eyes, the sharp knowing.
He’d played her.
“I’m sorry to come here like this,” Angel said. “I’m sure it’s a shock.”
Abby turned to face her. “Why did you come?”
Angel drew in a breath. “My husband’s organization wants to take control of the Vegas territory. I’m not going to lie to you: his business isn’t legal either. But they have an honor code of sorts and — ”
“An illegal honor code?” The question came out sharper than Abby intended.
Angel surprised her by laughing. “Absurd, isn’t it?” She shook her head. “I once said the same thing.”
“And?”
“And,” Angel said, “it is absurd in a way, and I’m not very objective, was never very objective.”
“Why?” Abby asked.
“Because I love my husband,” Angel said simply. “Because I’ve loved him almost since the moment I first saw him. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t right when he says it’s futile to try and stamp out illegal activity in places like Las Vegas.”
“So he, what? Participates in it instead?”
“Yes.” She said it without apology. “He almost lost his life trying to change the rules. So did I, actually. It meant taking down a very powerful man, many powerful men. It meant overthrowing a long-standing hierarchy when he could have continued being a part of it.”
“Why did he do it?” Abby asked. “There must have been something in it for him.”
“Because it was the only right thing to do in a business built on being wrong. Because someone will profit from criminal activity in places like New York and Miami and Vegas, and my husband would rather that profit is generated from things that don’t hurt women and children.”
“Sounds like an excuse.”
Abby smiled. “I would say the same thing in your shoes. I did say the same thing in your shoes.”
“And now?” Abby asked.
“Now, I know my husband. I trust him. And I’ve seen firsthand what happens when we let people like Jason — people without a moral compass — take charge.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” Abby said, still struggling to reconcile the Jason she knew, the Jason she’d known most of her life, with the person Angel was describing. “Jason is a businessman. He already has money, more than enough money to last him several lifetimes.”
“But it hasn’t really been about the money all this time, has it?” Angel asked.
Abby knew the answer without having to think about it. Making a fortune had been a pleasant side effect to the thing that truly drove Jason.
Respect. Power. Control.
She understood his compulsion. It was one she shared. It’s what happened when you grew up poor and alone, when you were helpless, forced to live in a constant state of fight or flight. It’s what happened when you were made to feel small and invisible.
You wanted to be in charge. To be safe. To be seen.
“No,” Abby finally said in answer to Angel’s question. “It’s never been about the money for Jason.”
Angel nodded. “The DeLuca family controlled Vegas for a long time. They didn’t have their names on marquees or in lights, but everyone who was anyone knew that when push came to shove, they were in charge. Jason made his mark with the Tangier. That couldn’t have been easy, but after he’d climbed that mountain, there was one more peak he had to conquer to have total control over the city, and that was to align himself with Fredo DeLuca.”
Abby could see it. She’d found her safety elsewhere, in the security of her career in finance, the always trustworthy outcome of addition and subtraction and multiplication. In the savings account she’d slowly built and the investment account she’d started back when she still had to ea
t ramen every night for dinner. In the little house she’d renovated herself.
Jason had done something different. Something bigger. And now, to hear Angel tell it, something dangerous and ugly. If it was true, Jason had become a monster, not only because of his dealings with the DeLuca family, but because of what he’d done to Abby and Max.
Max…
Her heart shrank inside her chest. All these years, Max had believed in her, had had her back, and when it counted, she hadn’t even given him a chance to defend himself.
If it was true — and she knew now that she would have to find out for herself — would he ever forgive her?
“Did he send you? Max?” she asked Angel.
Angel shook her head. “You’ve done a good job of hiding. He’s been trying to find you.”
“You found me.”
Angel smiled. “We have resources Max doesn’t have, although if it helps, from what I’ve heard, he’d move heaven and earth to find you. It might have taken him a little longer, but he would have shown up here eventually.”
“Is he…” She hesitated, imagining Max alone and angry and hurt. Although he’d never tell a soul that’s how he felt. “Is he all right?”
Angel drew in a breath. “I’m not going to lie to you, Abby. He’s not great.”
“Is that why you came?”
“I’d like to tell you that’s the only reason, but it wouldn’t be the whole story. The truth is, it’s becoming more and more critical for my husband’s business to bring Vegas under their control, and they can’t do it with the DeLucas and Jason in charge.”
“How can Max help now?” Abby asked. “I can’t imagine Jason is going to keep letting Max into the game if I come back.”
“The game’s done,” Angel said. “Jason called in a raid the night you left. The FBI picked up Max, but Jason was long gone. Don’t worry, though. Nico has some contacts at the Bureau. He was able to get Max out.”
Abby forced herself not to see the images playing in her mind: Max arrested, freed, going to her house to find her gone, discovering the flash drive Jason had used to drive them apart.
She’d been so, so stupid.
Wages of Sin: Las Vegas Syndicate Book Two Page 3
