The meeting with Clark couldn’t have gone better. When I woke up at the motel that morning, with Ruby mysteriously gone, I’d received a message from Clark’s main man, telling me to meet him that night—with the cash for the condo. Mike and Claire. They were such gorgeous people, weren’t they? Besting a crook at his own game.

Revenge, for my father’s sake. It had never been simpler.

After checking out from the motel, I had bobbed around Leandra’s for a bit, speaking with her clients and feeling generally bright and friendly—unlike the Brooklyn Billy I’d become. Sour and dark. This was California Billy, the one I’d left behind when I had joined the army.

Maybe I actually kind of liked this persona. Maybe I didn’t need to go back.

“You’re looking happier than I’ve seen you in years,” Leandra told me, leaning forward and kissing me on the cheek. “Why don’t you stick around L.A. for a bit, help me sort out what to do with Dad?”

I scratched the back of my neck with my fingernails. “I’ve actually got that all figured out, Leandra. Dad’s affairs will be sorted in no time.”

Leandra crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at me. “That’s impossible.”

“It’s not,” I returned.

“You’ve been back, what, less than a week?”

“Don’t underestimate me, Sis,” I laughed.

Despite my good mood, I knew there were several more steps to the night. After helping Leandra close up shop, I drove her car to the local branch of my bank. With just a bit of cajoling with my guys out east, I’d been able to gain access to over three hundred thousand dollars, which they’d deposited into my account the previous night and I had promised to pay back (plus interest, ASAP). They knew I was good for it. We’d been through this type of shit before.

The woman at the bank eyed me with a fierce, tiger-like expression, checking my ID three times before letting me withdraw the $300k.

After stocking the suitcase I’d brought with the cash, I headed east in Leandra’s car, tapping my fingers on the case and feeling generally giddy. When the text message from Everett came in, telling me he was in the process of putting steps B and C of the plan into motion, I sent out a whoop that rattled the insides of the car.

It was all falling into place.

The casino on the east side of town attracted mostly old women, middle-aged Asian men, and the odd-ball gambling addict, who stayed at his chair, tossing his coins into the slot machines, day-in and day-out. Being “broke” was just a matter of how the chips fell that day. Some days they were up, some days, down. I parked close to the front door, just in case I needed to make a quick escape, and brushed my hands over my suit—the same one I’d worn the night before.

A suit that fit the bill of someone who was dating Claire Harrington. Someone who spent time in London, on business.

I brought the suitcase with me, carrying it close to my side. A rumpled-looking man walked out the front door and then leaned against the glass, taking out a cigarette and puffing on it miserably. He couldn’t have been more than thirty-five, and already, his life was washed out.

I couldn’t help but blame people like Clark Lambert for attracting people like him. Clark had seen my father’s life as nothing more than something he could take advantage of, and he was about to get a dose of his own medicine.

The man beckoned to someone waiting just inside the doors. One of Clark’s goons, no doubt. He walked towards me with a confident step and latched his hand around my upper bicep. He leaned close and whispered, “Listen. No funny business,” before guiding me through the doors and towards the back of the room. The rumpled man flicked his cigarette away and followed a few paces behind, probably making sure that I hadn’t been followed. I passed the many sections of the casino: the blackjack table, Texas Hold ‘Em, and the noisy slot machines that rattled and sang. I tried not to look into the blank, tired eyes of the many gamblers.

The goon led me through a back door, past the kitchens, and into a cave-like corridor with flickering fluorescent lights. I stifled a joke about the horrendous décor. As we pushed through the final door, the goon tossed me into a carpeted, windowless office. Along the far side of the office was a leather couch, on which Clark Lambert was seated. Beside him was a half-naked woman, her breasts imprisoned in a glittering bra. The woman’s legs were crossed at the ankle, almost demurely. I felt a chuckle rise from my chest, recognizing this as a power play. If I was going to show him how beautiful my “fiancée” was, then he was going to try to best me.

“Well, well. So good of you to join us,” Clark said. The leather couch creaked as he stood, and he took my free hand, shaking it. “Mike, this is my good friend Cindy. Cindy, shake hands.”

Cindy did as she was told. She lurched up from the couch, looking half-drunk, and took my hand. Her fingers had callouses, clearly from pole dancing. I nodded to both of them, hunting for the right words. A broad, American smile flashed across my face. “If Claire knew I was in a room with a stripper right now, she’d kill me.”

“Sometimes we have to do things our wives wouldn’t approve of. But it’s all for their happiness, now isn’t it?” Clark said, sitting back down on the couch. Cindy sat robotically back down beside him, crossing her ankles once more. Clark draped an arm around her shoulders, clinging to her tightly as he stabbed a cigar into his mouth.

I sat across from him, knowing I needed to give Everett enough time to put everything into place. As we spoke, he was sneaking in the side entrance of the casino, busting open the vault, and stealing around five million dollars from Clark Lambert. Cash money. I told you I’d be able to pay back the boys in New York. In just a few minutes, I would have money to burn.

“You’ve brought the suitcase.” Clark said, eying it on my lap. “Everything is in order, I trust?”

“Do you really think I’d show up here with an empty suitcase?” I laughed, throwing my head back. “I’ve done far too much business with your people, Sir Lambert, to ever waste your time. And if you must know, your reputation precedes you.”

“Does it?” His eyes sparkled. It was clear he liked hearing about himself, about what other people whispered about him on street corners. “Tell me. What would you think I’d do to you if you didn’t arrive with that suitcase like I asked?”

I shifted, trying to show a false discomfort. In reality, back in new York, I’d been in situations like this a million times. Men like Clark didn’t frighten me. However, thinking about my father, up against a criminal like this, made my blood run cold.

“They say you like the baseball bat,” I answered.

Clark tossed his head back in uproarious laughter. Cindy, or whatever her name really was, joined him, clearly accustomed to laughing at whatever he did. Perhaps she’d had experience with his use of the bat.

“It’s a cricket bat, you Yankee imbecile,” he said, chortling now.

“Tell me, Clark,” I said, leaning closer to him. “I’m genuinely curious. How did you make a name for yourself? How do you stay in business? What’s your secret?”

Clark paused, assessing me with eagle eyes. “I’ve long understood that I’m of a higher class, mentally, than most clowns. And if I told you anything about my business dealings, I’d have to kill you.”

Something passed between us. I’d been in the room for only four minutes. Everett and I had calculated the robbery down to seven minutes, which meant I needed to stretch it. My heart hammered and I opened my mouth.

But Clark spoke first.

“Where did you really pick up that girl, Mike?” he said. “That gorgeous Claire Harrington. I haven’t been able to get her off my mind since I saw her. All of her movements were so graceful. She’s the kind of woman you want to hide away from the world and keep all to yourself.”

I chuckled, feeling a pang of anger. “Claire is very much her own woman, Clark. She’s not the type to let anyone keep her from doing what she wants in life.”

When he grinned, he showed yellow teeth, crooked and rotting, in the back of his mouth. “I know the type. These London brats. They’ve been given everything on a silver platter their entire lives. She’s no better off, really, than Cindy here. Mentally, anyway. She’s probably as desperate as they come. Searching for happiness. Thinking she’s found it with some rough around-the-edges American bloke. I just can’t wait to read about your divorce in the news in a few years. British heiress leaves sad, lonely American destitute on the streets of Los Angeles. Can you imagine it?”

I shifted on the chair, images of Ruby flickering through my mind. Would I even see her again?

I gave him a smile, unsure of what else to do. “I keep expecting her to leave me, too. I am, as you say, definitely not good enough for her. And you should see the way her mother looks at me.”

I placed the suitcase on the floor, sliding it toward him with a soft kick. Clark let it sit between us on the carpet for a long moment before reaching down and lifting it on to his lap. After a brief pause, he popped it open, and gazed at the green below.

“Very nice. Very nice,” he said softly. “I appreciate you taking into account my particular position. I don’t like dealing with American taxes, you understand. It’s simpler if I keep it all going through the casino.”

“Of course. Just from seeing the paperwork for Claire’s taxes, I know it’s better this way, easier for all of us,” I said.

With a flourish, Clark clipped the suitcase closed. He made an abrupt motion, leaning toward Cindy, and kissing her on the cheek. Her eyes gazed at me, looking more like a dead fish than a human woman. I stood up, knowing Everett had done his end of the job. I’d relied on him for many stints out east. I couldn’t see a reason how this would go differently.

I shook Clark’s hand, then Cindy’s, and eased back through the casino, with the goon at my side. I gave him a firm look before heading into the hot darkness of the L.A. night, walking toward Leandra’s car. As I sped from the parking lot, I checked the new burner phone I’d picked up that morning.

Everett had sent a single, simple text message: Done and done.

We’d planned to meet up the following afternoon, before he flew back over to New York. In the meantime, I would make plans to head back there myself, but I also needed to decide whether I wanted to reconnect with my father in the interim. Being back in Los Angeles had changed my feelings slightly, forcing me to remember the good family times—and forget, even for a little while, the hurtful ones.

I wasn’t sure if it was worth it.

High on adrenaline, I sped too fast, back towards the ocean. Through the open window, I let out a mighty “FUCK YES!” I was out of my mind with victory, feeling wild, free. I’d set my plans into motion, and everything had fallen into place.

There was just one problem.

That girl. Ruby.

She wasn’t Claire Harrington. She was gorgeous, blonde and blue-eyed Ruby, from Coventry, who was working a dead-end job and leading a dead-end life. Since I’d literally run into her on the sidewalk, she had brought such electricity to my world.

Right now, I wanted nothing more than to see her again. To hold her tightly against my chest.

Yanking Leandra’s car into the lane that would take me to Silver Lake, I tried to mentally prepare my monologue for her front porch. “Why’d you leave me at the motel like that, baby? I need you. I need you more than you could ever know.”