The Night of Seven Page 4

  However, about a couple of months into this job, Stefan learned a few other new skills. Given his rather quiet nature and the fact that he keeps to himself, people seem to either not realize that he’s there...or they just don’t mind. It took about a month and a half before people stopped lowering their voices whenever he walked into a room. Perhaps they just deemed him trustworthy, but since that time, whatever transition occurred, people have been saying whatever they want. Perhaps a little too much. He’s learned so many secrets that he really has no business knowing. At least he knows that he’s not the one that’s going to be telling anybody anything that they aren’t supposed to know. However. He overheard the boss on the phone not too long ago, talking about the dancer’s schedules. Normally, the boss man just likes to stare at them through a crack in the door when they are changing. Stefan just assumed he was some sort of limp-dicked pervert or something; he figured that the girls must know. They have to; it’s not like the man is subtle about the noises that he makes while watching them. He usually speaks about them so highly because he wishes that they liked him, and it was very shocking to hear him talking about the dancers like they were scum, like they were objects to be auctioned off. Though, that wasn’t the most alarming part of the conversation as it went on.

  At the end of it, Stefan was sure that he needed to buy something to protect them with. Those girls were his friends, and they didn’t know what might happen...or the horrible things that the boss had planned for them. He wanted to tell them, but he didn’t have any proof. He knows how hard it is to say things without proof. The gun might protect him someday, sure, but he needs to protect his friends even more. It took some time before he got used to the weight of the gun underneath his uniform, but he can manage it well now.

  Today, he’s delivering gifts from various suitors, and he is about two rows back, close to the women's showers when the screaming starts. The girls closest to him all duck behind his tall, slender frame, and he doesn’t have the heart to show them that he’s just as scared as they are. Stefan motions for the girls to be quiet, hoping that whoever is scaring the others doesn’t know that they are back here. He motions for them to slowly crawl into the bathroom and hide in the showers; it’s the furthest point away from the sounds of things...there is no way that they are going to be able to get to the door without being seen.

  Then he hears Olivia pleading.

  Not her.

  Just last week, he had sat out front of the casino, on those cold concrete steps while she chain smoked and cried through her makeup. He had found her attempting to cover her black eye with foundation, and when she caught him looking...she dissolved. She told him all about her ex-boyfriend and the family that he belonged to. She told him far more than she probably should have, but Stefan is coming to learn that people might just start doing that from here on out. He didn’t know how to help her, but she is just another reason why he felt so strongly that he needed to own a gun. At least he knew how to get his hands on one. Olivia cried, and she told him how scared she was. She was terrified that he was going to come after her, that he was going to hurt her worse than the black eye. She said that he was just a boyfriend, but the things that she repeated gave the impression that he thought that he owned her. Stefan had experience with men like that. His own father was a man like that. He can’t even remember how many times his father put his Mama in the hospital whenever he got into one of his “fits”. Honestly, Stefan thought that Olivia was going to quit. She told him that she might. She told him that she might go home to her own Mama’s house to hide for a while. He was half hoping that she wouldn’t simply because she loves her job so, and Stefan hates to see men like that win. He doesn’t believe that men like that should ever get what they want.

  It has to be him.

  He has to be the one making her plead like that.

  He’s come to get even with her, and if the family that he belongs to is powerful enough, he will get away with doing it right here in the middle of this dressing room, even with all of these witnesses.

  Though maybe he can do something about it.

  Stefan is not a brave boy. He’s not a person who can speak in front of crowds or say anything without looking at his feet three times a sentence. He can try though. He can try to help his friend.

  Olivia screams in pain, and he knows that he can’t stand here. He can’t hide while his friend is hurt like that. There are things that people can and cannot live with. He cannot live with himself if he stays here, hiding, while something horrible happens to such a nice girl.

  Stefan pulls the gun from inside of his uniform and signals for the girls to stay put, no matter what. Slowly, he moves around the wall of vanity booths and stands tall. His hands are threatening to shake, but he can’t let them. He can’t. He steps into view and raises the cocked gun, pointing right at the man holding Olivia by her pretty hair.

  “Let her go.”

  Chapter Eight

  N athan & Cruz

  Nathan has been pretending to be a security guard for a week now. It’s shocking to him that for a casino with such high end, top of the line security, that there appears to be very little attention paid to people who do and do not work there. It appears to Nathan that they must have such a high turnover rate for these positions that they aren’t paying attention to who comes in and out of such important places. The only one that pays him any mind is a tall man named Cruz. He likes to give Nathan sideways glances that Nathan isn’t certain how to take from a man who looks like a rock formation took human form. However, it doesn’t matter. Nathan will only be here for tonight. Whatever has been predicted, is going to happen tonight. There are cameras even in the dressing rooms of the dancers. Nathan is sure that has to be some sort of security violation of some kind, but it’s also not his place to question it. He arrived early tonight so that he can watch as much of the footage as possible. The limited information that the company provided him with doesn’t even tell him who is going to be the victim. Though, in a matter of hours, it will be clear. So long as he is here and available, then he can take whoever needs to be down, down. The only obstacle that he can think of is going to be the big man that likes to somehow move so silently that he can pop up in the most random of places, right whenever Nathan is effectively snooping around.

  There are heavy Mafia ties to this casino. That much he knows for sure. The company has dug up all of the records going into and out of this place, and they have been backed by the very influential Carilles family since the Casino switched to its current management some ten years ago. Still a baby by casino standards, it seems to be doing well for itself. Too well. It doesn’t make nearly as much money in revenue as it pours into reconstruction and remodels. Though there seems to be three or four different building plans registered with the city. Then all records of what actually gets built simply just disappear, and nobody even knows what happens to it. It simply doesn’t make any sense. It’s clearly a figurehead. Though, Nathan doesn’t know if it’s just covering up for money laundering or if it’s something even more than that.

  There is a flurry of movement from one of the cameras that catches Nathan’s eye; he can see the line dancers darting off to one side of their dressing room, and he doesn’t have to stop to look more closely to know that this is why he is here. The event is happening now. He tears out of the security office, comfortable in the knowledge that whatever is going to happen in here, he can handle. As he gets closer, he can hear just one voice wailing for mercy. The victim, no doubt...and then a second. Nathan slips into the door nearly unnoticed and can hear the conversation happening in front of him.

  “Look, I’m sorry, but I have no choice.” The man holding the gun to the dancer’s head seems to be upset; it’s very obvious that he doesn’t want to be standing here. Another kid who looks to be no older than twenty-one is pointing his own weapon at the man. While he seems fully terrified, it’s clear that he will shoot if he feels that he needs to.

  “Then put down the
gun and let her go, or I will have no choice but to shoot you!” Stefan stammers.

  “She’s gotta die. Sorry, kid. She pissed off the wrong man,” the man wearing the poorly constructed suit says. He doesn’t even look like he is able to afford that brand new gun in his hand. He’s not even holding it right.

  “Women are not objects! She doesn’t belong to anybody. Now you - you just leave her alone, and go tell your little boss that!”

  “Watch your tone, kid,” the man warns, smirking at the kid like he knows something that Stefan doesn’t, and cocks his gun. The girl screams in terror.

  Then Stefan shoots.

  Just a single bullet, and the man in the suit never has a chance to blink. He doesn’t see it coming. He doesn’t have more than a single moment to blink at the kid in surprise like he was expecting to call the kid’s bluff somehow and then the kid won. Olivia moves to her feet so quickly, it’s impossible to follow her movement as she flings herself behind Stefan, acting very much like he’s her savior. He really is.

  The man in the suit drops heavy to his knees, and his fingertips touch to the spot on his breast just over his heart where the bullet punctured his body, and a silent tear rolls down his face before the blood trickles from him...and the man in the suit falls over dead.

  Apparently, Nathan isn’t even needed here.

  The head of security, Cruz, comes crashing into the door behind Nathan at the sound of the gunshot and nearly knocks Nathan over in the process. Cruz has his own gun in hand, and he starts to take in the situation, but he never once aims the gun at Stefan.

  “FBI! Freeze!” Cruz commands.

  Out of everything that Nathan might have expected to come out of that man’s mouth...it’s not that. Cruz seems to put the pieces of the situation together very quickly as he puts his own gun away, already determining that Stefan is not a threat. He’s clearly shaken, crying, and still very terrified. Killing somebody isn’t something that he is going to walk away from easily. While it needs to be done, it’s not something that anybody can do lightly. Nathan knows how that feels as he’s killed countless people over the course of his career with the company.

  “Stefan, drop the gun.” Cruz’s voice is softer than anybody in the room has ever heard it be before.

  Stefan obeys, and the gun drops heavy from his hands, and Olivia throws her arms around him and starts to sob her gratitude; the two sink to the ground in an effort to embrace and comfort one another.

  Cruz pulls a phone from his pocket and dials a number that Nathan can’t see, and says something that he can’t hear, but it feels like moments later, police sirens are heard approaching the casino.

  This might be the first case that Nathan has ever been on that he really doesn’t even have to do anything at all. This will be very interesting to report to the company.

  The police come and put Stefan in handcuffs because they have to. They are going to have a lot of paperwork to do, and they pull Olivia out to have the EMT’s process her for possible, well actually very likely, shock as well as the rest of the traumatized dancers hiding in the back of the room. Nathan is about to slip unnoticed out of the back whenever Cruz’s strong hand clamps down on his shoulder.

  “Whoa, whoa, now, I think you need to answer some questions.”

  “Me?” Nathan starts, amused, “What about you? FBI? I should have known.”

  “You show up less than a week ago out of nowhere, and happen to be in the room with a homicide; you care to explain that?”

  “Well, I clearly don’t work for the casino.”

  “You are running out of time before I arrest you.” Cruz has a very no-nonsense look on his face, and Nathan almost chuckles.

  “That wouldn’t work very well for you.” His attitude might be pushing things just a little too far, he knows.

  “And why not?” Cruz asks.

  “Because my employer will be very annoyed with the process of breaking me out of there.”

  “And who is your employer? Did you have something to do with this? You look like the type.”

  “Yes and no.” Nathan decides to take a chance, given the branch that Cruz works for. “The company would much prefer that I just be on my way. Leave all the rest of this to you fine gentlemen...or just you really. The less that I’m involved from here on out, the better.”

  “The company? I’ve heard of you.”

  “Really? You probably shouldn’t have.”

  “Well. Then I guess I better let you be on your way then.”

  “Probably,” Nathan agrees. His focus shifts from Cruz’s hand as it removes itself from Nathan’s shoulder to the kid in handcuffs still silently crying. “You’re going to take care of him, right?”

  Cruz actually smiles and nods. “He’s a good kid. He did a good thing. I will do everything that I can for him. Apparently, Olivia’s new boyfriend is a hell of a lawyer named Madden and has already promised to represent the kid for free. So I would say she’s really straightened her life out in the dating department.”

  Sure enough, there’s a tall, handsome man sitting behind Olivia in the ambulance, holding her tightly in his arms.

  “I’ve been working on this case for two years,” Cruz admits to Nathan, “The uniforms searched the dead man’s body already, thankfully. I just needed proof that the Carilles family was involved, but they have been covering their tracks almost perfectly this entire time. Honestly, if that note wasn’t stamped with the Carilles’ personal family seal...I don’t know if we would have ever linked them. Thankfully, this new little hitman that they seem to have imported from somewhere else was stupid enough to keep the letters. Don’t be surprised whatsoever if you don’t find any record on him at all. The Carilles are infamous for recruiting average joes to do their dirty work because they are least likely to be missed. Usually have bitter wives at home that are far happier with a settlement check than their husbands to remain living. That I know for a fact.”

  Nathan’s brows lift, “That’s harsh,”

  “That’s suburbia for you. Pretty faces for very unhappy people. I’m just glad to get the hell out of here. Really. I never want to set foot in Vegas again.”

  Nathan laughs. “I think I have to agree with you. Big city life...just isn’t going to be for me.” At least that much, he thinks that he can say for certain. If the company lets him retire, he thinks that he will probably be very happy up in a little cabin in the woods somewhere that he can just keep to himself. Perhaps he can get a dog; he’s always liked the idea of having a dog.

  It’s such a strange feeling, knowing that he failed...but also that he succeeded. Nathan is interested to know if the company knew that this might happen; did their vision, if it was in fact a vision, predict that this might be a possible outcome? The time might be here that he finally has to start asking more questions. He might have to know if they put these visions in his head, or if that is simply the reason that they chose him. If he can be a part of the team that helps to stop bad things from happening to decent people, then he thinks that might be something that he wants to do. He might be happy doing something like that.

  The cell phone in Nathan’s pocket feels heavy as he contemplates if he should text the company or not. Then, he decides that it will be better just to sleep on it and make his choice in the morning. Perhaps the solution will come to him in a vision.

  Chapter Nine

  M aximo

  Shit.

  No. Shit doesn't even begin to cover it.

  What is he supposed to do?

  How is this something that he is going to fix?

  Maximo sits with his head in his hands, his elbows resting on the polished mahogany of his desk. Everything about his office was designed to radiate power. When the interior decorator asked him how he wanted things to feel, he had told her that he wanted it to feel like a lion's roar, that he wanted it to feel like finishing first in a race. Everything about him is designed to exude confidence until it is straight arrogance. He can’t help it. It is ho
w he wants to live his life. His perfectly kept hair, his neatly manicured hands and beard, the designer suits, and the expensive imported leather of his shoes. Everything about him is designed for power, for strength. He runs a wildly successful casino, and he drives the best, fastest, most expensive cars. Truly, Maximo has everything that his power-hungry seven-year-old self had ever dreamt about having.

  At least until tonight.

  Nobody can get this rich without a little bit of help, not coming from the family life that he has come from, not when his parents gave him nothing. Maximo has worked and scraped and clawed himself into the life he feels that he deserves, and now, because of tonight, that is all going to be ripped away from him.

  Those wealthy benefactors are going to be removed; he is no longer going to have the money that he needs to keep this place afloat because he wasn’t able to make good on a promise. It was just one little girl, the life of one stupid bitch, and his whole life is going to come crashing down around his ears? How does that happen? What could he have possibly done to even deserve this! He is Maximo. He is respected. He is beloved by his employees and feared by his many enemies.

  Or at least he was.

  The secret that nobody knows about him is that since he was a teenager, Maximo has been working his way up the mafia radar. He has been working toward a position in the family that he loves so much. They have always held him just an arm’s length away. They keep their distance from him just enough to keep him lapping at their heels, just enough to keep him begging for more, always just one or two more errands away from an actual title. Now, sitting here, he knows better. He can’t put into words how he knows that he has been nothing but a joke to them. He doesn't have words to explain that it took today, this failed mission, this failed act to know that they are going to dispose of him; he just knows that they are going to. He doesn't even think that they are going to waste time. There will be no fanfare. There will be nothing of honor to his removal. They will dispose of him and slide in somebody even more compliant than himself into this position. He knows this.