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Authors: Harold Robbins

Sin City (41 page)

“And how will you play the cards?” Wan asked.
Before I could reply, four men shoved through the crowd and stepped into the baccarat area. Anthony DeCicco was right behind them.
The Chinese may have had thousands of years to refine the triads and tongs into killers, but the Mafia made up for it by being just plain innovatively brutal. Wan's two triad gangsters looked like rabbits to these four sheep-killing dogs.
“Like I said, I'll pay the cards the way I want to,” I told Wan. My voice was low, not because I was trying to keep my voice down, but because I was so angry, I had to control myself from leaping across the table and ripping out Wan's throat.
Wan and I stared at each other. Yeah, he was one smart son of a bitch. I had to run to keep up with him and make up for some of it by being just plain stubborn. I kept up a tough front, but my heart was still pounding. The fuckers had my wife and kids. My anger was turning black and ugly. I gripped the table with both hands. I wanted to get up and kill these bastards.
Wan was no fool, he read the murder in my face. His death.
“You have a call to make,” I said.
He nodded to Moody. Moody got back on the phone. I could see that the ex-homicide dick had shrunk a little at the sight of DeCicco and the thugs. He had been around the town long enough to know DeCicco was connected.
No clock was in sight and I didn't look at my watch. After Moody hung up, the seconds ticked off in my mind. The tension built up around the baccarat area. The croupier, the ladderman, no one knew what was going on, but they could feel the tension filling the area like a Miami heat wave. The people in the audience were quiet, too. I looked back to catch Windell's eye. He saw the rage in my eyes and ran, shoving his way through the crowd.
The phone rang. I didn't flinch but my heart nearly jumped out of my chest. Moody listened and handed the phone to me.
“Zack, we're on the street. We're safe. I'm not leaving, Zack. I want us to be a family, a real family, and I want the kids to know their father.”
A sudden longing came into me, one that I never felt before.
“So do I,” I said softly.
I handed Moody back the phone. He was looking at DeCicco's boys, and not liking the looks he got back. I grinned at him. With my lips, not my eyes.
“You look a little pale, Moody, something you ate?”
I lifted up my cards and took a peek. A queen and a nine—a natural nine. Moody was behind me. I knew he saw the cards when I heard the disappointed grunt. Like someone had punched him.
I met Wan's eyes again. His lids had come down, half shading the bottomless black pits.
Taking what you hold dearest.
The words kind of waltzed around my head, doing a little dance. Smart bastard. He had seen what I almost didn't see myself. What I had almost lost. I had been so preoccupied with the club, I lost sight of what was important in my life. I had lost Betty and A-Ma. I loved both of them, but it was Morgan and the kids that I wanted in my life. I wanted the same thing Morgan wanted—a family.
I threw the cards across the table, facedown.
“You win.”
Wan gaped. I laughed. I had finally broken through that stoic mask.
“By the way, meet Mr. DeCicco, the club's new general manager. He represents some out-of-town interests who have bought the club.”
“Bought the club?” Wan stared down at the shimmy table like the words had fallen there and he needed to examine them.
“Yeah, I sold my interest, Mr. Wan. You know how it is, casinos are so much trouble nowadays, so much paperwork, all those government regulations and snoops. I'm getting away from the business … for my health.”
“My money—”
“Oh yeah, congratulations, you won whatever interest I still have in the casino. Mr. DeCicco will be discussing that situation with you.”
I got up to walk away and brushed against Moody.
“Sorry, pal,” Moody said.
I turned, cocking my fist, and went straight across his jaw, throwing my shoulder into it, giving it everything I had. I heard his teeth shatter as his mouth slammed shut. He went backward, spraying blood. I wasn't finished with him. I could've given him more, but my hand hurt like hell.
I left the club, walked out the front doors, out the gate beneath the Great Wall, and across the drawbridge. Behind me the Red Dragon roller coaster came around again, breathing fire.
I could never have won by myself with Wan because he was a one-hundred-percenter. He would go all the way to win, no matter what it took. In my own mind, I think I was tougher than Wan in most ways, maybe even smarter, but he was willing to go all the way. All the way meant doing anything to win. He would think nothing of sending back my wife and kids in pieces.
Sitting there at the shimmy table, my family in one hand, the club in the other, a casino didn't seem that important to me. Hell, there were lots of other casinos. I knew how to make money. Nothing was impossible. You just did it. You don't stop living. You go on to bigger and better things.
I walked outside to the Strip. A strange thought hit me and I started laughing. Maybe I had been wrong all this time. Maybe God didn't live on the Strip. Maybe the devil did.
A horn honked and a taxi pulled up to the curb alongside me. The back door opened and Morgan got out.
“I stopped a squad car to send them back to the club to get you. They told me you left. They said you walked away from a natural nine.”
“I knew a rumor like that would start. Must be one of those urban legends, alien rape and that sort of thing. I had snake eyes.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “You didn't have to do it. I told you we were safe.”
“I did it because I wanted to do it. Besides, I'm tired of that place.”
“What about Wan—”
“You might as well start using the past tense when referring to him. There's a guy name Vinnie the Ax who hates having partners. I suspect Mr. Wan will soon be coyote bait.”
“You let gangsters take over your dream?”
“No, I just let them borrow it. I sold Vinnie the joint in return for him paying off the notes to Halliday's. We own the old club free and clear. The gaming commission and feds will turn DeCicco inside out and revoke the license in a year. By then, Vinnie will have laundered a billion bucks and be smiling. He'll sell me back the place if I want it, but I don't know, with the new place and all …”
“New place?”
“Didn't I tell you? I'm going to build a bigger and better club. I already know exactly how I'm going to do it, with volcanos exploding, lava pouring, and—and, hey, knights in shining armor, a medieval castle, maybe even a moat full of pirate ships—”
“How many places are you going to build?”
I looked up and down the Strip.
“How many do you think it will hold?”
Then she was in my arms and held me tight.
“Zack, promise me you won't ever leave me.”
“I promise.”
We held each other as lovers long apart. We must have put some real heat out because the cars up and down the Strip started honking their horns and yelling out cat calls. I didn't care.
I finally figured out what was important to me.
Harold Robbins left behind a rich heritage of novel ideas
and works in progress when he passed away in 1997.
Harold Robbins's estate and his editor worked with a
carefully selected writer to organize and complete Harold
Robbins's ideas to create this novel, inspired by his storytelling
brilliance, in a manner faithful to the Robbins style.
Never Enough
Never Leave Me
The Predators
The Secret
Sin City
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this novel are either fictitious or are used fictitiously.
 
 
SIN CITY
Copyright © 2002 by Jann Robbins
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.
 
 
A Forge Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
Forge
®
is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
 
 
eISBN 9781429956857
First eBook Edition : April 2011
 
 

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