Original: "Girls Don't Hit," Chapter Twenty
A one-chapter day today! I kept getting distracted by errands and research and whatnot (you'll see what research I needed when you read the chapter). I also had to get Riley Season 5 sorted and pimped everywhere (have you bought yours yet? NO?! What weirdos...) Enjoy!
AO3
20
The days of mob rule in Las Vegas were over, and Leon Singh couldn’t have been happier about it. No more long car rides into the desert, no “private meetings” in back rooms where the gambler was never seen again. Just suspicions, suggestions to move along, and no real threat of arrest since there was no way to prove he was doing anything illegal. Occasionally he would spot one of the black domes concealing a security camera and wave to his friends, the god-eye in the sky as he called them.
He tilted his head to count his chips and raised his bet to ten-thousand dollars. Child’s play. He smiled as the other players considered their cards and then decided to stay in or give up. Eventually Leon was the last man standing and leaned forward to rake in his winnings. Almost seventy-thousand dollars on that hand. Not bad for ten minutes work. He tipped the dealer generously, gathered his chips, and climbed off the stool to make his way to the next table.
One of his opponents, a Nebraska contractor who had just lost a good chunk of his vacation allowance, had once said Leon had an unbreakable poker face. Good hand, bad hand, it never seemed to matter to him. Leon just smiled and shrugged as he cashed in the man’s chips, but he had to admit it was true. He didn’t care if he won or lost, so he had no reactions to the cards he happened to be holding. It was all a numbers game.
His house was built in the fifties, and a fallout shelter was included in the garage. It was a cozy space large enough to fit a family of four while debris from a nuclear blast rained down on their property, but Leon had never spent much time down there. At the moment it was flooded with green, full to the brim with stacks of cash. He had absolutely no idea how much was there, which was why it didn’t matter if he lost a few thousand here and there when he laundered it. He walked into the Shenandoah Resort with half a million dollars, which he exchanged for chips. He spent the morning losing, and with his latest haul he had succeeded in winning it all back in clean, legally-accountable gambling winnings.
A few short years ago he would have thought half a million dollars was a kingly sum, a number he would never see in his lifetime. That all changed when his friend came to him with a business deal. Just a quick conversation about a business opportunity, a chance to make all sorts of money. It had started with a simple, almost casual question: “You’re good with numbers, right?”
All Leon knew about the source of the cash was that it was illegal. Drugs, mostly, but he didn’t know and didn’t want to know the specifics. He took the money out of his shelter, spent a few hours a day playing cards in the casino, and then deposited the resulting clean bills into a series of bank accounts throughout Nevada and various off-shore entities. He kept some of the money for himself, of course, and it was just a fraction of what he was sending to people he’d never met, but that fraction made his previous annual salary look like an allowance.
Three security officers, two men and a woman, were standing by window when Leon approached to cash in his chips. He smiled brightly and touched two fingers to his brow as if doffing an imaginary cap. He winked at the woman, who looked as if she had stepped in something putrid and was fighting the urge to scrape it off her shoe.
“Are you the valets? Are you going to bring my car around for me?”
“You had a good day,” the taller security man said.
Leon shrugged. “Almost broke even. But the important thing is that I had fun, right big guy?” He patted the guy on the arm. It was like slapping a tree. “So I’ll just get a check for my winnings and I’ll be out of your hair. At least until next time.”
“Yeah. Next time.”
He looked at the shorter guard who had spoken. “Very good! Maybe by the time I come back you’ll have figured out complete sentences.” He stepped between the men and deposited his chips at the window. As the number was tallied and the check was printed out, he turned and rested his elbow on the table to examine the three guards. “You three remind me of something. It’s right... aha! Yakko, Wakko, and Dot. You ever watch that cartoon? Animaniacs? You guys are the Warner Brothers. And the Warner Sister.” He winked at the woman again and her jaw tightened. “You guys are much too tense. You know what they say, the customer is always right.”
“Not in Vegas,” the shorter and taciturn guard said.
“Right. Vegas is a roach motel. People come and they’re supposed to willingly empty their pockets into your coffers. You bitches just cannot stand it when one of us chumps actually wins.”
The tall guard, Yakko, said, “Yeah. And when one of them just keeps on winning, it makes us wonder what that bitch is up to.”
“Just playing a game, man. Playing it well. Breaking even. No harm, no foul, right?” He winked, took his check, and fished a five-dollar bill out of his pocket. He tucked it into the breast pocket of Dot’s jacket, making sure the backs of his fingers lingered a little longer than necessary before he pulled his hand back. He could tell she wanted to hit him, and he dared her to do it by smiling brightly. “So where did we fall on the whole valet thing? Are you getting my car or aren’t you?”
“Thank you for choosing the Shenandoah, Mr. Singh. Feel free to check out any of the other casinos on the Strip the next time you’re in the mood to gamble.”
Leon looked horrified. “And sacrifice the personal service I get here? Not on your life, Yakko.” He slapped the big man on the stomach with the back of his hand, nearly bruising his knuckles in the process. He chuckled as they parted to let him pass, and he resisted the urge to look back as he strolled out of the casino. There were no more mob enforcers in Vegas, and for that he was glad. He knew that if they still settled things the old way, the Warner Brothers would have dragged him to a car, put a hood over his head, and he’d have disappeared into the vast emptiness outside of town. The town had been Disney-fied.
He was safe.
#
The club was playing the Killers when Leon entered, and he shouted his drink order over the chorus of “Somebody Told Me” before turning to examine that night’s talent. It had been a while since he was young enough to be anyone’s first choice in a situation like this. He had a bit too much salt in his hair, but he was still fit and attractive enough. The suit made all the difference; age didn’t matter so much when there was money and taste to back it up. He bought drinks for a couple of prospects, had a few conversations in quiet corners, and brought up his job just so he could be vague about what exactly he did. He made sure every woman he spoke to saw the heft of his wallet when he took it out to buy another round.
When he got up to visit the little boys’ room, he spotted a sexy young girl lounging against the wall. Her skin was paler than most of the other girls in the club, definitely implying a recently-arrived tourist, and her red hair was cut short in a pixie cut. She wore a shimmering green dress that left her shoulders, upper chest, and most of her legs on show. Leon felt pulled across the crowd to get near her, and he flashed a smile as he approached. She looked nervous as he closed in and his smile widened. Innocent and young, fresh off the bus from Iowa or Idaho, and she’d just encountered a wolf.
“Hey, darlin’. If you’re still here when I get back, I’d like to buy you a drink.”
“I don’t really drink.” There was a tremor in her voice.
He grinned and chuffed her chin with his knuckle. “That’s okay. We can figure out something for me to buy you.” He winked and continued on his quest to relieve his bladder. He used the urinal, washed his hands in the sink, and went back out to find his cinnamon Tinkerbell again. He stood on his toes to scan the crowd and finally spotted her on the dance floor. To his surprise, she was dancing with another woman. Most of the other people in the club were watching the spectacle, and Leon found his attention drawn as well.
Tinkerbell’s partner was taller than her, at least a decade older, and gorgeous in an inexplicable way Leon couldn’t quite figure out. Her cheekbones were sharp, her hair slicked back, and she wore a blazer and slacks as if she had simply forgotten her blouse on the way to a business meeting. Maybe it was the way she pressed against Tinkerbell’s hip, the possessive hand in the small of the girl’s back, or maybe it was the intensity with which she locked eyes with the girl as their hips swayed to the music. He wet his lips and ran his eyes down their bodies until the song ended, then he smiled and moved closer as Tinkerbell left the dance floor with her taller partner.
“Looks like you found someone who had something you wanted.”
“I don’t know,” the girl said. “I’ve never been with a woman before. But she’s hot.”
Leon looked at the older woman. “Yeah. Yeah, she definitely is that.”
The taller woman slid her hand over the bare skin of the younger girl’s shoulder, and he saw goosebumps rising on the porcelain flesh in its wake. She tensed to fight a shiver.
“Would it make you more comfortable if there was a man there tonight?” she purred.
Leon’s interest was piqued. It was one thing to have a threesome when he paid for the women to act like they were into each other. This was a whole different animal, and it was something even he couldn’t have paid for. He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to act casual as the girl considered the proposal. He didn’t want to queer the deal by being too eager so he scanned the crowd as she thought about it. When she finally spoke, it was in the middle of “Miss Atomic Bomb,” and Leon felt as if he’d been caught in the blast.
“Sure. I guess. Yeah... yes. I’d like that a lot.”
Leon smiled and raised his eyebrows. “Best offer I’ve heard all night. I’m Leon.”
“Hi, Leon. I’m Joss, and this is my friend. Echo.”
“Echo?” he said, certain he’d misheard.
Joss put her hand on Echo’s shoulder and squeezed, then snaked her arm around Leon’s waist to pull him close to them both.
“Because everything I do to you, she’s going to do it right after me.”
Leon chuckled nervously and put his arms around them. “Hell, ladies. That sounds like a game plan if ever I heard one. How about we get out of here and find somewhere quieter?”
#
Joss turned out to be a flight attendant on Delta, while Echo was a college student who was letting loose for the first time to celebrate passing her finals. Leon was far too eager for what was going to happen to think about the fact it was far too early for finals, or even for Spring Break. The thought did occur to him, of course, but he was far too distracted by Joss’ hand in his lap as he drove them back to his house. Normally his place was off-limits, but this was rare air. He was going to have a threesome with one of the most beautiful girls he’d seen all week and... well, Joss wasn’t exactly a beauty queen, but on the sliding scale of threesomes, she might as well have been a supermodel. She was attractive, sure, just not his usual. Preferences like blonde to brunette or big tits to flat chest went right out the window when two women were involved.
The point was that he didn’t want to risk the deal by going to a hotel. There were too many variables involved with that, too many chances for one or both of them to decide it would be best to just call it a night. He wanted to control the entire evening. Besides, all his cool shit was at his house. Sound system that would blow their skirts off, all kinds of illicit substances that would help make them a little more amenable and loosen some of Echo’s apprehensions, and oh, the special items he had hidden in the bedroom. He was thinking about those hen Joss’ hand moved higher between his legs, which made it hard for him to concentrate on the road.
“Easy! Save it for later, unless you want to get us all killed.”
Joss chuckled and looked over her shoulder at Echo in the backseat. “Wouldn’t want that, would we?” She moved her hand up and Leon focused on the road ahead of them.
He pulled up in the driveway and climbed out of her car. He was hard and desperate to stay that way as he fumbled with his keys. Joss and Echo came up the front walk behind him, and he pushed the door open and ushered them inside.
“Ladies, welcome to Casa de Singh. Make yourselves at home, and I’ll make us some drinks. What will you take?”
“Manhattan,” Joss said. “Echo will take a Scotch.”
“Sure,” Echo said. “Sounds good.”
He pointed finger guns at them, pointed them to the living room, and hustled to start the drinks. “The stereo is on the bookshelf. Put on whatever you like.” He took down the glasses and tried to remember how to make a Manhattan. He wasn’t going to make anything alcoholic for himself. He wanted a clear mind for what was about to happen. He wanted the memories. He made the drinks, still hard, heart still thudding as he imagined the possibilities ahead of him. He hummed one of the Killers songs that had played at the club, half-dancing as he carried the two drinks down the hall into the living room. He noticed it was silent and smiled.
“What’s the matter? Couldn’t find anything you liked?” He looked up and saw Echo aiming a gun at him. “Holy--”
Joss pressed against him from behind and pressed a Taser into his side. He dropped the glasses as she activated it, his legs turning into putty as he fell forward onto the carpet. Joss knelt on him, her knee digging into the small of his back. She pulled his arms back and crossed them at the wrists, and Echo came forward to wrap a cord around them.
“Oo ah oo?” he slurred.
“Who are we?” Joss said. “We’re representatives of the people you’ve been scamming. The ones you’ve turned into accomplices with your money laundering. They wanted you to know exactly who was coming after you and why this is happening. They wanted you to know you didn’t get away with it. They wanted you to know that you were only still breathing because it was too much of a hassle to wipe you out. But I guess you went too far or got too cocky. They decided you were a nuisance. They decided to get rid of you once and for all, Mr. Singh.”
“Way’h,” he gasped. “Wait! I hah... I have money. I have so much money. Please! The, the fuh-fallout shelter in the garage. Combination, uh, it’s, the combination is 5-7-88. There’s so much money. They’ll never know if any is missing. Seriously, you can take as much as you want. Please, just let me live.” He was sobbing into his carpet, no longer worried about looking macho in front of two women. He’d voided his bladder and could barely feel the rest of his body.
“It’s a shame,” Joss said. “You probably could have bought off a couple of mob goombas. They might have left you in the middle of the desert to get home by yourself, but for the right price the might have walked away without killing you.”
He swallowed the lump in his throat and whimpered. “Please...”
“Sorry, Leon. The mob doesn’t rule Vegas anymore.”
AO3
20
The days of mob rule in Las Vegas were over, and Leon Singh couldn’t have been happier about it. No more long car rides into the desert, no “private meetings” in back rooms where the gambler was never seen again. Just suspicions, suggestions to move along, and no real threat of arrest since there was no way to prove he was doing anything illegal. Occasionally he would spot one of the black domes concealing a security camera and wave to his friends, the god-eye in the sky as he called them.
He tilted his head to count his chips and raised his bet to ten-thousand dollars. Child’s play. He smiled as the other players considered their cards and then decided to stay in or give up. Eventually Leon was the last man standing and leaned forward to rake in his winnings. Almost seventy-thousand dollars on that hand. Not bad for ten minutes work. He tipped the dealer generously, gathered his chips, and climbed off the stool to make his way to the next table.
One of his opponents, a Nebraska contractor who had just lost a good chunk of his vacation allowance, had once said Leon had an unbreakable poker face. Good hand, bad hand, it never seemed to matter to him. Leon just smiled and shrugged as he cashed in the man’s chips, but he had to admit it was true. He didn’t care if he won or lost, so he had no reactions to the cards he happened to be holding. It was all a numbers game.
His house was built in the fifties, and a fallout shelter was included in the garage. It was a cozy space large enough to fit a family of four while debris from a nuclear blast rained down on their property, but Leon had never spent much time down there. At the moment it was flooded with green, full to the brim with stacks of cash. He had absolutely no idea how much was there, which was why it didn’t matter if he lost a few thousand here and there when he laundered it. He walked into the Shenandoah Resort with half a million dollars, which he exchanged for chips. He spent the morning losing, and with his latest haul he had succeeded in winning it all back in clean, legally-accountable gambling winnings.
A few short years ago he would have thought half a million dollars was a kingly sum, a number he would never see in his lifetime. That all changed when his friend came to him with a business deal. Just a quick conversation about a business opportunity, a chance to make all sorts of money. It had started with a simple, almost casual question: “You’re good with numbers, right?”
All Leon knew about the source of the cash was that it was illegal. Drugs, mostly, but he didn’t know and didn’t want to know the specifics. He took the money out of his shelter, spent a few hours a day playing cards in the casino, and then deposited the resulting clean bills into a series of bank accounts throughout Nevada and various off-shore entities. He kept some of the money for himself, of course, and it was just a fraction of what he was sending to people he’d never met, but that fraction made his previous annual salary look like an allowance.
Three security officers, two men and a woman, were standing by window when Leon approached to cash in his chips. He smiled brightly and touched two fingers to his brow as if doffing an imaginary cap. He winked at the woman, who looked as if she had stepped in something putrid and was fighting the urge to scrape it off her shoe.
“Are you the valets? Are you going to bring my car around for me?”
“You had a good day,” the taller security man said.
Leon shrugged. “Almost broke even. But the important thing is that I had fun, right big guy?” He patted the guy on the arm. It was like slapping a tree. “So I’ll just get a check for my winnings and I’ll be out of your hair. At least until next time.”
“Yeah. Next time.”
He looked at the shorter guard who had spoken. “Very good! Maybe by the time I come back you’ll have figured out complete sentences.” He stepped between the men and deposited his chips at the window. As the number was tallied and the check was printed out, he turned and rested his elbow on the table to examine the three guards. “You three remind me of something. It’s right... aha! Yakko, Wakko, and Dot. You ever watch that cartoon? Animaniacs? You guys are the Warner Brothers. And the Warner Sister.” He winked at the woman again and her jaw tightened. “You guys are much too tense. You know what they say, the customer is always right.”
“Not in Vegas,” the shorter and taciturn guard said.
“Right. Vegas is a roach motel. People come and they’re supposed to willingly empty their pockets into your coffers. You bitches just cannot stand it when one of us chumps actually wins.”
The tall guard, Yakko, said, “Yeah. And when one of them just keeps on winning, it makes us wonder what that bitch is up to.”
“Just playing a game, man. Playing it well. Breaking even. No harm, no foul, right?” He winked, took his check, and fished a five-dollar bill out of his pocket. He tucked it into the breast pocket of Dot’s jacket, making sure the backs of his fingers lingered a little longer than necessary before he pulled his hand back. He could tell she wanted to hit him, and he dared her to do it by smiling brightly. “So where did we fall on the whole valet thing? Are you getting my car or aren’t you?”
“Thank you for choosing the Shenandoah, Mr. Singh. Feel free to check out any of the other casinos on the Strip the next time you’re in the mood to gamble.”
Leon looked horrified. “And sacrifice the personal service I get here? Not on your life, Yakko.” He slapped the big man on the stomach with the back of his hand, nearly bruising his knuckles in the process. He chuckled as they parted to let him pass, and he resisted the urge to look back as he strolled out of the casino. There were no more mob enforcers in Vegas, and for that he was glad. He knew that if they still settled things the old way, the Warner Brothers would have dragged him to a car, put a hood over his head, and he’d have disappeared into the vast emptiness outside of town. The town had been Disney-fied.
He was safe.
#
The club was playing the Killers when Leon entered, and he shouted his drink order over the chorus of “Somebody Told Me” before turning to examine that night’s talent. It had been a while since he was young enough to be anyone’s first choice in a situation like this. He had a bit too much salt in his hair, but he was still fit and attractive enough. The suit made all the difference; age didn’t matter so much when there was money and taste to back it up. He bought drinks for a couple of prospects, had a few conversations in quiet corners, and brought up his job just so he could be vague about what exactly he did. He made sure every woman he spoke to saw the heft of his wallet when he took it out to buy another round.
When he got up to visit the little boys’ room, he spotted a sexy young girl lounging against the wall. Her skin was paler than most of the other girls in the club, definitely implying a recently-arrived tourist, and her red hair was cut short in a pixie cut. She wore a shimmering green dress that left her shoulders, upper chest, and most of her legs on show. Leon felt pulled across the crowd to get near her, and he flashed a smile as he approached. She looked nervous as he closed in and his smile widened. Innocent and young, fresh off the bus from Iowa or Idaho, and she’d just encountered a wolf.
“Hey, darlin’. If you’re still here when I get back, I’d like to buy you a drink.”
“I don’t really drink.” There was a tremor in her voice.
He grinned and chuffed her chin with his knuckle. “That’s okay. We can figure out something for me to buy you.” He winked and continued on his quest to relieve his bladder. He used the urinal, washed his hands in the sink, and went back out to find his cinnamon Tinkerbell again. He stood on his toes to scan the crowd and finally spotted her on the dance floor. To his surprise, she was dancing with another woman. Most of the other people in the club were watching the spectacle, and Leon found his attention drawn as well.
Tinkerbell’s partner was taller than her, at least a decade older, and gorgeous in an inexplicable way Leon couldn’t quite figure out. Her cheekbones were sharp, her hair slicked back, and she wore a blazer and slacks as if she had simply forgotten her blouse on the way to a business meeting. Maybe it was the way she pressed against Tinkerbell’s hip, the possessive hand in the small of the girl’s back, or maybe it was the intensity with which she locked eyes with the girl as their hips swayed to the music. He wet his lips and ran his eyes down their bodies until the song ended, then he smiled and moved closer as Tinkerbell left the dance floor with her taller partner.
“Looks like you found someone who had something you wanted.”
“I don’t know,” the girl said. “I’ve never been with a woman before. But she’s hot.”
Leon looked at the older woman. “Yeah. Yeah, she definitely is that.”
The taller woman slid her hand over the bare skin of the younger girl’s shoulder, and he saw goosebumps rising on the porcelain flesh in its wake. She tensed to fight a shiver.
“Would it make you more comfortable if there was a man there tonight?” she purred.
Leon’s interest was piqued. It was one thing to have a threesome when he paid for the women to act like they were into each other. This was a whole different animal, and it was something even he couldn’t have paid for. He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to act casual as the girl considered the proposal. He didn’t want to queer the deal by being too eager so he scanned the crowd as she thought about it. When she finally spoke, it was in the middle of “Miss Atomic Bomb,” and Leon felt as if he’d been caught in the blast.
“Sure. I guess. Yeah... yes. I’d like that a lot.”
Leon smiled and raised his eyebrows. “Best offer I’ve heard all night. I’m Leon.”
“Hi, Leon. I’m Joss, and this is my friend. Echo.”
“Echo?” he said, certain he’d misheard.
Joss put her hand on Echo’s shoulder and squeezed, then snaked her arm around Leon’s waist to pull him close to them both.
“Because everything I do to you, she’s going to do it right after me.”
Leon chuckled nervously and put his arms around them. “Hell, ladies. That sounds like a game plan if ever I heard one. How about we get out of here and find somewhere quieter?”
#
Joss turned out to be a flight attendant on Delta, while Echo was a college student who was letting loose for the first time to celebrate passing her finals. Leon was far too eager for what was going to happen to think about the fact it was far too early for finals, or even for Spring Break. The thought did occur to him, of course, but he was far too distracted by Joss’ hand in his lap as he drove them back to his house. Normally his place was off-limits, but this was rare air. He was going to have a threesome with one of the most beautiful girls he’d seen all week and... well, Joss wasn’t exactly a beauty queen, but on the sliding scale of threesomes, she might as well have been a supermodel. She was attractive, sure, just not his usual. Preferences like blonde to brunette or big tits to flat chest went right out the window when two women were involved.
The point was that he didn’t want to risk the deal by going to a hotel. There were too many variables involved with that, too many chances for one or both of them to decide it would be best to just call it a night. He wanted to control the entire evening. Besides, all his cool shit was at his house. Sound system that would blow their skirts off, all kinds of illicit substances that would help make them a little more amenable and loosen some of Echo’s apprehensions, and oh, the special items he had hidden in the bedroom. He was thinking about those hen Joss’ hand moved higher between his legs, which made it hard for him to concentrate on the road.
“Easy! Save it for later, unless you want to get us all killed.”
Joss chuckled and looked over her shoulder at Echo in the backseat. “Wouldn’t want that, would we?” She moved her hand up and Leon focused on the road ahead of them.
He pulled up in the driveway and climbed out of her car. He was hard and desperate to stay that way as he fumbled with his keys. Joss and Echo came up the front walk behind him, and he pushed the door open and ushered them inside.
“Ladies, welcome to Casa de Singh. Make yourselves at home, and I’ll make us some drinks. What will you take?”
“Manhattan,” Joss said. “Echo will take a Scotch.”
“Sure,” Echo said. “Sounds good.”
He pointed finger guns at them, pointed them to the living room, and hustled to start the drinks. “The stereo is on the bookshelf. Put on whatever you like.” He took down the glasses and tried to remember how to make a Manhattan. He wasn’t going to make anything alcoholic for himself. He wanted a clear mind for what was about to happen. He wanted the memories. He made the drinks, still hard, heart still thudding as he imagined the possibilities ahead of him. He hummed one of the Killers songs that had played at the club, half-dancing as he carried the two drinks down the hall into the living room. He noticed it was silent and smiled.
“What’s the matter? Couldn’t find anything you liked?” He looked up and saw Echo aiming a gun at him. “Holy--”
Joss pressed against him from behind and pressed a Taser into his side. He dropped the glasses as she activated it, his legs turning into putty as he fell forward onto the carpet. Joss knelt on him, her knee digging into the small of his back. She pulled his arms back and crossed them at the wrists, and Echo came forward to wrap a cord around them.
“Oo ah oo?” he slurred.
“Who are we?” Joss said. “We’re representatives of the people you’ve been scamming. The ones you’ve turned into accomplices with your money laundering. They wanted you to know exactly who was coming after you and why this is happening. They wanted you to know you didn’t get away with it. They wanted you to know that you were only still breathing because it was too much of a hassle to wipe you out. But I guess you went too far or got too cocky. They decided you were a nuisance. They decided to get rid of you once and for all, Mr. Singh.”
“Way’h,” he gasped. “Wait! I hah... I have money. I have so much money. Please! The, the fuh-fallout shelter in the garage. Combination, uh, it’s, the combination is 5-7-88. There’s so much money. They’ll never know if any is missing. Seriously, you can take as much as you want. Please, just let me live.” He was sobbing into his carpet, no longer worried about looking macho in front of two women. He’d voided his bladder and could barely feel the rest of his body.
“It’s a shame,” Joss said. “You probably could have bought off a couple of mob goombas. They might have left you in the middle of the desert to get home by yourself, but for the right price the might have walked away without killing you.”
He swallowed the lump in his throat and whimpered. “Please...”
“Sorry, Leon. The mob doesn’t rule Vegas anymore.”