Rafael’s bloody face stared up at me.

“Please, amigo,” he pleaded. “Stop. I get your money. I get it. Please stop.”

I smashed my fist into his nose, blood gushed under my knuckles. “You don’t owe me the money. I’m just here to collect.”

Rafael held his hands up, blocking his face. “Please, Jay. Please.”

I dropped him. I hated when they begged. Please, don’t hurt me, I need more time, I have a family, I have bills, I need to eat, I’ll do anything… I’d heard it all before. But the rules were simple: you borrow, you pay it back. End of story. They never seemed to get that.

Rafael groaned and rolled over, trying to stop the blood pouring from his nose.

“You have one more day,” I said, “then I start visiting your friends.”

His pleas followed me out of the apartment, but I ignored them. Rafael Antonio was a dealer who couldn’t stay away from his own product. He’d borrowed from Simon, and barely paid back a cent, and so it was up to me to get the money, plus interest. That was my job, and I was good at it.

Especially with Rafael. It was almost fun, letting out my frustrations on someone who should’ve been locked up years ago. The same kind of scum who’d tormented me as a kid on the streets. It would be a pleasure to “visit” his friends tomorrow when he didn’t cough up.

Sweat dripped from my hairline, thanks to the cursed Vegas heat. I’d lived here my whole life and still hated how hot it got every summer. I climbed into my truck and reached for the AC. Blood stained my knuckles and I cleaned it off before driving downtown.

I pulled around the back of Pearl of China, parking beside Simon’s charcoal gray Lexus, being careful not to ding his door when I got out of my truck. I’d seen him lose it over one tiny scratch.

The kitchen door was propped open and one of Simon’s girls was smoking a cigarette, chopsticks sticking out of her wispy blonde hair. She gave me an inviting smile as I went by but I ignored it, pushing past her into the restaurant.

The kitchen was all spices and steam and a babble of voices shouting in Chinese and English and Spanish. I grabbed an egg roll, winking at Mingyu as I passed. She tried to whack me with her fork but I jumped out of the way.

Alfonso stood in front of Simon’s office door, the designated bodyguard for the day. A handgun poked out of the top of his pants.

“Aguda’s here,” Alfonso said.

“Rance Aguda?” It was unnecessary of me to ask. There were no other Agudas in Vegas worth mentioning. What he was doing in Simon’s office was the money question.

“Careful,” Alfonso said.

I didn’t need the warning. I chewed the last bite of egg roll, and Alfonso opened the door. No one else would be allowed into one of Simon’s meetings, but I could go anywhere. I slipped inside.

Rance Aguda stopped talking but didn’t look at me. His fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach for his concealed weapon.

“Continue,” Simon said.

Aguda frowned, pulling the scar that stretched from his temple to his jaw like a rope. Rumors said it was a memento of his time as a child soldier in Africa. “I prefer to speak in private without your Joe-boy listening in.”

“He is my son. You can speak freely in front of him.” There was force behind Simon’s words, but I didn’t take pride in them like I used to.

Aguda glanced at me. It was as obvious to him as anyone that Simon and I weren’t related. Simon’s Chinese, I’m not. The only similarity we shared was the color of our hair.

“Very well. Your proposal is interesting, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline.”

Simon’s mouth thinned, though the change was almost indiscernible unless you knew him. “I would think, after the favor I did you, my proposal would receive more consideration.”

I hid my surprise. Rance Aguda was one of the most notorious criminals in Vegas and Simon was a cop. These two things didn’t go together. Even though Simon had his little side-business, he put people like Aguda behind bars. I helped him do it. He made nice with the petty crooks to get rid of the bosses. This meeting made my knuckles itch.

“I appreciate what you did in the Arthur case, but I’m afraid I cannot change my mind.” Aguda didn’t sound too choked up about it. In fact, he almost sounded smug. “You’re still welcome to invest.”

“I’ll consider it.” Simon got to his feet and held out a hand. Aguda took his time rising from his chair—a show of power—and returned the handshake. He didn’t so much as glance at me as he left. After all, to him I was nothing more than a hired thug.

When we were alone, I took the empty seat across from Simon’s desk. “What was that about?”

Simon answered me in Chinese. I’d known him for eleven years and still didn’t understand a word, not for lack of trying, either. I didn’t need a translator to get the gist of it, though. Simon Ting rarely showed emotion, but when he did it usually manifested as Chinese curses.

He pressed a thumb just below his wrist until he calmed down. “It’s difficult to get close to that man.”

But why would you want to? Even as a kid, I’d heard Aguda’s name whispered on the streets, warning the weak and enticing the power-hungry.

“He mentioned the Arthur case.”

Simon applied pressure to his other wrist. “I did him a favor. It didn’t pay off.”

My stomach clenched. Andrew Arthur was one of Aguda’s cronies. He’d been convicted of multiple counts of rape and assault but the only thing that had stuck was a minor charge, hardly any prison time. If Simon had something to do with that… Worse, if I had helped without knowing it…

I was one of Simon’s enforcers, collecting loans for the lending company he ran off the books. I was good in a fight and people were intimidated by me. Plus, I enjoyed it. But I also ran errands for his legit job as a police officer. I made deliveries, transported people, made things disappear from crime scenes, that kind of stuff. I’d never had a problem tampering with evidence, or planting a gun, or helping someone change their identity and disappear. Simon used dirty methods to put even dirtier people away, and I was that dirty method. I got that. I didn’t question it.

But things were changing. The lower Simon sunk—like doing deals with Aguda—the more I wanted out.

Simon straightened the pens on his desk until they were in an ordered line. “How was your meeting with Rafael?”

I rubbed at my sore knuckles.

Simon handed me a wet wipe. “How many times have I told you to use gloves?” He hated blood. Leftover blood, the kind that didn’t get mopped up after the deed was done. He didn’t mind it during. But I’d never liked using gloves, unless I had to avoid prints. Skin on skin contact was raw, and real, the way it should be.

“It went as expected,” I replied. “He asked for more time.”

“What’s your next move?”

“He’s got a gang of dealers and clients I’ll meet with tomorrow. See if I can’t make any headway there.”

Earlier, I’d been looking forward to “meeting” Rafael’s friends. Now, I was just tired. The adrenaline was gone, leaving me empty and dissatisfied.

“If that doesn’t work, you know what’s next.”

I used to get a rush from the snapping sound a bone would make when you applied just the right amount of pressure. I was master over the body, and I could destroy it with my bare hands. But that was back when I had all the recklessness of a eighteen-year-old and no conscience. Or, at least, a conscience I could easily drown out with rage. That rage had ebbed into disappointment, and that conscience had started pricking at me ever since I realized I could do something else with my life. Ever since I started questioning.

“Arrest him. I’m sure there’s a boatload of crank in his apartment.”

“Not yet.” Simon leaned forward. “He owes me money. I won’t get it if I put him away.”

Simon needed to stop lending to scum like Rafael. Then again, it was the petty criminals and the truly desperate who borrowed from a loan shark in the first place.

“I know I don’t have to tell you what to do.”

I looked him straight in the eye, this man who was like my own father. “I know my job.”

“Good.”

The threat was implied. He didn’t need to say it. I owed Simon everything, and because of that, I would never break free of him.