My Protector by Flora Ferrari

Chapter Seventeen

Dillon

Seeing Becky dressed in her barmaid uniform again lets me know how temporary our jobs are, for us both. I don’t want to get her hopes up before I have a plan, but she won’t be pulling beers for much longer.

Mark my words.

She cheers up once we head out to get the rest of her things, the neighborhood we pull into resembling more of that greasy paper sack she almost ate out of for the last time yesterday.

I feel bitter about it, but I’ve known rougher streets in my life.

I only wish I’d found her sooner.

“You asked me to remind you, so here goes…” she says. “Try not to lose your cool with my ex-landlord, okay,” she pleads, wincing a little but making me chuckle. Lightening my somber mood.

She’ll only know a better world soon enough, and to my surprise, I even keep my cool dealing with the landlord.

He shrinks back once he throws his door open, I’m twice the man he ever was, and his eyes dart from me to Becky in horror.

“Hired someone to come frighten me, eh?” he snarls, but I laugh, reaching for my billfold.

“Not at all. Not at all,” I reassure him, asking how much she’s owed and how long we might have to claim the rest of Becky’s stuff.

“Oh. And a receipt,” I add. “My accountant, he’s such a stickler for those things,” I grin. Picturing my fist punching through the man’s face, but really only wanting to get Becky away from all this nonsense.

It’s a small price to pay, a few hundred bucks. And the guy begrudgingly hands over the key, snarling again that we’d better have everything out within a few hours.

No fucking problem, buddy.

No girl of mine is spending a minute in a place like this let alone live in it.

“That went well,” Becky says, taking a deep breath, but I can tell she’s shy about me seeing inside her old apartment.

“It was only ever supposed to be temporary,” she sighs, pushing the door open as I glance around, my worst suspicions confirmed.

A sofa bed, an old TV, shitty fridge, and even shittier A/C that must be included in the deluxe deal she got.

“Get your things,” I tell her, taking a moment to squeeze her by the shoulders.

Not blaming her for having at least somewhere to stay. She’s done her best, and I can see she’s kept the place clean.

Immaculate compared to the rest of the building, the whole street, and that city beyond it. Festering like a sore, swallowing up the good in the world while the scum always seems to rise to the top.

“It’s just clothes mainly,” Becky says. Almost tearing up again until I remind her.

“You’re coming home with me, every day from now on. So no more tears about this place. It brought you to me, it’s served its purpose.”

No pets or plants, just a few books and a couple of boxes of clothes and shoes.

My girl’s all moved out in under twenty, giving us plenty of time to get her settled back home before we both have to head back to work.

A bite on the way makes sure she’s sustained but does little for the real appetite she’s stirred in me.

* * *

Walking in the front door of the club to escort her in, I’m met by and rebuked by Marco, who’s obviously sore he lost his promotion working in the back.

“The hell you coming in this way for?” he snaps, my brow cocking a question of its own as he backs down.

“You two sure are tight all of a sudden,” he murmurs, noticing me take a moment to remind Becky I’m here and I’ll be keeping an eye on her as well as things in the back.

“And then we’ll be home,” I tell myself, already counting the minutes. Trying not to get hard at the thought of her all to myself but failing. Not caring if the whole world can see what she does to me.

Hoping like hell I can get some dirt on Sawyer and the probation office.

Wishing it was the prick who double-crossed me I could really snare.

Becky’s lips pull into a smile, her real smile before the work one lights up her face.

Her smile just for me.

It’s not long before I’m reunited with our boss, with his real operation too. The extent of it makes a part of my mind swim.

It’s a full scale illegal casino, no other words for it.

No mob boss or payoffs, just one man and a dream, and enough sway over certain people to keep it all watertight quiet.

Before he even speaks though, before we even get somewhere quiet enough, I’ve already started recording him on my cell phone tucked in my top pocket.

Another phone camera on my hip, a relic from the earliest days of security surveillance but unnoticed in a place like this.

“I need you here on the main floor tonight, Dillon… Bit of a group coming in with a lot of dough. I need to show some muscle in case any of them think of cheating me,” he adds grimly.

Nice to know I’m appreciated.

“Stay on the back door until I let you know, then move to the gaming tables,” he instructs me.

I ask a few basic questions, about his gaming license and the taxes he must pay. His sarcastic roar of laughter is a good start for the kind of evidence I need.

“A comedian too, eh? Just do what you’re told, Dillon. You need this job, remember,” he says, twisting his lip into a cruel smile.

Yeah, I need it just long enough to work my way back to being my own boss.

My reflex is to ask if he knows Matt, my old business partner, but I bite my tongue.

This seems like the kind of place he’d come if he was flush with someone else’s money. But who knows what the man does in his spare time?

There must be a dozen clubs like this one on the block, and Matt would be a useful catch in a place like this but also a needle in the proverbial haystacks.

My next thought is about Becky. Not wanting her left unattended tonight, I’ll have to pick and choose my moments.

Bathroom breaks or something where I can make sure I check in on her from time to time.

Sawyer wasn’t bluffing, and there are more people in the back than I could have imagined possible before I manage to slip away for a moment, making a beeline for Becky.

Marco’s busy toying with one of the Barbie waitresses, and I slip behind the bar just long enough to ask Becky how she’s doing.

“Busy, but meh,” she sighs, her eyes smoldering into mine in the smoked mirrors behind the bar.

“You?” she asks, pretending to polish a glass as I feign interest in something else.

“This place is a casino alright, more than just a club,” I growl, fighting the urge to hold her close, tell her everything I need to do to her.

“The fuck?” Marco hisses over the bar as I reach for a glass, pouring some water from the faucet and almost drinking it before tossing it.

“Just thirsty, I guess,” I remark, grinning at Becky and cupping her ass in one of my hands where Marco can’t see.

“Just stay on your side, will ya? Jeez!” he exclaims, muttering that he never used to go wandering when he was in the back.

Checking my watch and moving back through to the gaming floor, I let out a smiling grunt when I see him.

He’s slipped in through the back, part of the ‘big deal’ crowd for tonight.

Matt fucking Diamond.

My old friend and ex-business partner.

I might have known.

He hasn’t spotted me yet, and it’s easy enough to avoid him as I mingle through the crowd near another table, but soon enough I get my instructions.

Sawyer himself comes down, asking in a hoarse whisper where the hell I’ve been.

“That’s our group,” he tells me, jutting a double chin towards my ex-business partner as he settles himself at a blackjack table, a Barbie doll waitress on either side of him, plying him with drinks and little giggles already.

There are a few other faces at the table I don’t or could never know but I actually stifle a laugh when I see who joins my oldest friend and newest enemy at the table.

My parole officer.

I’m already cutting Charlie Sawyer some slack in my mind.

Maybe.

If I can get enough truth about my ex-business partner and my parole officer?

I scan the room for my memory of the judge who imposed probation in the first place, from what I remember the man seemed fair.

Maybe he is clean after all.

I only need to have enough information to prove it was my oldest friend framing me the whole time.

Son. Of. A. Bitch.

I won’t lie, the urge to wring his fucking neck in public is the first thing that occurs to me. And maybe two days ago I would have.

But I have Becky now, everything’s for her so I need to keep calm and do what I do best.

Play bouncer and gather information. Then count the minutes until I can get Becky home, our whole future looking brighter by the second as I watch the man I used to consider my best friend gambling my fucking money away.

His playmate the very man who set me up with probation working in this place... But out front. Not back here where I could find them both in plain view, gambling with my money.

Becky’s money too now.

That’s the thought that makes it worst in my mind, and I vow on the spot to do whatever it takes to bring them down.

All of them.