I didn’t let her see me track her movements.

I didn’t follow her. Too easy to be seen. I know what I look like and I know how she sees me. I’m tatted up and six-foot two, a lean two hundred pounds easily. Naturally. I don’t stand out in a crowd of men like me, of men in my crew, but I do stand out among the tourists and the limp-pricked frat boys lined up here to pay for a fuck with a woman named after an animal or mineral.

Kitty. Diamond.

When I saw her stride over to the escalator leading right into my turf, I took the underground route to the casino. Through hallways and narrow corridors underground I tracked her moves. I knew where she was going, as though by telepathy. The employees-only elevator spit me out in the members-only lounge, where I passed through the bright steel kitchen to the floor of the casino.

I know this place better than the back of my hand. I know it like my fingerprint. Fuck, this place is in my DNA, or maybe I’m in its. I helped built it from the ground up, when it was just a hollowed-out grave filled with ashes and dust, old, broken machines, broken lights and destroyed filament.

I kept my distance as I watched her come out of the light of day into the timeless space of the casino floor. If you pay attention, you can keep track of time by counting the shrieks of excitement you hear from the mouths of the winners and the scowls of disappointment you see on the faces of the losers.

That’s what I like about it here. You think there’s skill to how you come out, but it’s all just blind, dumb fucking luck and there’s nothing anyone can do to make it otherwise. When the house always wins, the playing field is level for everyone else. It’s probably the fairest place on the face of the earth

You can come out ahead in the short term, but the fix is in, and it’s not in your favor.

I cross my arms and lean against one of the big wooden columns lining a small, winding walkway along the perimeter of the table games. I don’t know what Cherry’s going to do. She doesn’t look like much of a gambler, unlike her old man. I can see in her eyes that she’s a careful girl. Maybe she’s a little bit neurotic. Her old man was neurotic too, but in a different way. He got the notion stuck in his head that he was special. That his number would come up eventually.

But she seems more rational and practical. I can see it in how her eyes shift across the floor. She’s calculating her odds and determining exactly what her next move should be.

In this town, that makes her a rebel.

Poor girl. She better come up with something, or else things could get ugly with the boss.

I’ve witnessed first-hand what he does, and it isn’t pretty.

My phone buzzes and I pull it out. I don’t have a shift tonight, but I know the boss is going to want to know where his money is. It’s him, asking just that. I let him know I have it locked down, and I put my phone away to watch Cherry.

She locks her gaze on a dumb fucker that I recognize. He’s a regular here, and even though he has more money than God, he’s also lost more money than God.

Thank fuck for him. He’s the kind of customer we need to make things look legitimate.

Not that many people really gives a fuck.

She sits down next to him with her bag. Good girl. It’s an easy enough game, and over the course of a few hands, if she bets heavy, she might just be able to make some scratch to pay the boss what he wants.

He doesn’t give two shits if it’s actually twenty percent. He just wants to keep people on edge, put them on notice. Fuck with them. Let them know he doesn’t fuck around, and keep them in fear of him.

She doesn’t open her bag. She’s observing. But then the man next to her starts touching her. It makes me feel sick. He puts his arm around her shoulder, and he spreads her legs apart with his knee. I want to charge over to him and tell him to keep his fucking hands off of her. But she owes this money, and it’s none of my business how she chooses to make it.

He wins his hand and he celebrates like a goon who’s never seen good fortune before. But I know it’s not his first time at this very table, and with this very dealer. Fuck, I’ve dealt for him before and he acts like a little shit every time, whether he wins or loses.

I’ve even seen him leave with girls before - lots of girls, some one at a time on different nights, and sometimes with more than one. He likes to pay for pussy. He could probably get it without paying. He isn’t bad looking, and I know a woman or two who would suck him off for free, and with the amount of money he has, he should be able to attract women that way too.

I guess his kink is paying for it. Or maybe he just doesn’t like to get involved with them. Because paying for sex is the best way to make sure there are no repeats unless you’re the one who wants it. The girl isn’t going to come back unless and until you’re willing to pay again.

Cherry smiles up at him and her fake smirk sends a spear right through my heart. It gets worse when I see her turn around and the smile fade, replaced by a stone expression. It isn’t fear. It isn’t sadness. It’s worse. She feels nothing.

She makes her way past a row of machines and collapses onto the floor against the wall near one of the waitress lounges. At the same time, I see the prick who’s going to give her the money she owes my boss in exchange for her body.

Instinct kicks in. I feel a basic and overwhelming desire - no, a fucking need to protect her.

I start walking toward him, quickly dividing the space between us. I trail him as he makes his way to the VIP lounge, to the men's room in the back. He pushes the door open and I slow down, following behind him quietly.

Passing through the sitting area inside the men’s room, filled with mirrors and discreet baskets of mints and condoms, I turn down the wide hall off to the side, to the rows of urinals separated by locking stalls. There’s a few guys taking a leak inside the stalls. I can see their feet under the doors. I see my target’s back disappear into one of the stalls and I push forward, slipping inside after him.

“Jesus, man. This one’s occupied. What the fuck?” He shrugs his big shoulders and knocks my ass back into the door, but I brace myself against the wall with one hand.

God, what the fuck am I doing.

“Shut the fuck up and leave the girl alone.” I growl my words in a whisper as I slam my hands on the walls on either side of us. I control my breathing and take deep breaths in and out. Beneath the smell of salt and deep mens European cologne is the stench of piss.

“Why don’t you go fuck off, buddy.” He isn’t intimidated by me. He probably had his own men trailing me as I followed him in here. They’re probably right outside the stall, waiting for me. But he doesn’t know who I am. He wouldn’t. I haven’t let him see my face.

“Leave the girl.” I slam my hand against the wall again.

“Give me some fucking room, asshole,” he booms, not turning around. He unzips his pants and scrubs a hand against his dome. “You think you saw her ass first so you have a fucking claim to her? Fuck off. I’m paying for that pussy tonight, and when I’m done with it you can have your fun. And I hope you can fucking taste my cock inside her ass.”

Heat rises through my chest and I spin him around as he zips up, grabbing him by the chest, balling the fabric of his shirt up in my two fists. I just pray she hasn’t agreed to anything yet.

“You’ll stay the fuck away from her if you have a brain in that thick skull of yours.”

I clear him by a few inches, but he’s all brawn. That doesn’t stop the look of terror in his eyes.

I’m not a good man. I’ve seen that look before. It comes as you’re about to do the right thing by the boss, by the life you’re in, but as you’re about to sin. Before you’re about to chip away little by little at your soul.

“I’m sorry, Sean. You should have just said something. I didn’t you know it was you.” He puts his hands in the air. He’s begging for mercy.

“You should have listened to me.”

“I’ll leave the girl alone. She’s all yours. Fuck, man.”

I loosen my grasp and push his back into the wall. My knuckles are bone-white, and I was gripping him so hard that my fingernails nearly pierced through the flesh in my palms.

“You’re going to go over to her and tell her you’ve had a fucking change of heart. And then you’ll disappear.”

I slam my hand into the wall next to him and shoulder out of the stall. I couldn’t let her do this, and trying to reason with her wouldn’t have worked. She has no fucking reason to trust me.