Undercover Heat

Chapter 8: The Takedown

POV: Alex

We stand in the casino chip line at the pit, waiting to buy coins. Joseph moves closer to me, putting his arm around me, pretending he is my boyfriend. All I can do is wish it was Eddie or anyone but Joseph. Typically, I'd enjoy the play-acting, but there was something about this m*therf*cker that I can't get.

We inch closer to the casino cashier.

Joseph clears his throat and shifts in his stance. "Do you know Reece?"

"Reece?"

I stifle a laugh. What do you want with the whiny princess? Reece, I love her. She's my little sister, but sometimes I can't stand her. Reece is such a damsel in distress. Her life is so easy, and all she does is complain.

Really?

I can't get away with not working. But, of course, I don't want to be Reece—or do anything she's doing. I'm happy.

Joseph interrupts my thoughts, "I guess you don't know her?"

After a few minutes, I glance at Joseph. "I know her."

"Well, she's," he pauses, "gorgeous, you know."

I roll my eyes. "If you like that type."

Pause.

Joseph clears his throat. "So, you're Mr. Young's daughter, huh?"

I nod. However, I look at Joseph when I feel his stare. I match his frown. "What?"

He shrugs. "You look like Reece—the nose."

The person in front of us starts checking his pockets before stomping his left foot. He leaves the line.

I take a giant step closer to the front of the line.

Well, I'll admit that I'm too hard on Reece sometimes, but I want her to stop feeling sorry for herself.

So many people grow up without their mothers—I grew up without Mama. It doesn't matter that she never knew Mama. Daddy shouldn't treat her so fragile.

"I bet your girl doesn't like you to speak about another woman."

"She dumped me."

"Where do you come from?" I ask.

"Around here."

"Here? The blackest place in America?" I stare at him and laugh.

"It's a small town surrounded by big, diverse towns."

"Moore," I raise my hands as if I'm putting it on a billboard. "Where other people come to do their criminal dirt—including dirty white boys."

When he studies me, I expect him to defend himself. I threw the race card out on purpose.

Do I think he's a racist? Does it matter?

A smile slowly teases my lips as I see his blue eyes narrow. He squints.

His expression looks stormy.

I think I hit a nerve.

Now, I'm grinning. "Nothing to say, white boy?"

He looks away.

It takes him a minute to address me. When he does, his blue eyes are like the artic; cold.

"We're all here to get paid, sister."

"Next," the cashier yells.

***

As we sit at the blackjack table, I study Joseph. He looks like he's somewhere else. After our conversation, he's been silent. That's a good thing. I get to watch him.

He makes some good moves, such as placing small bets and winning. However, he's very, well, too clean. Joseph reminds me of a cop.

Joseph talks as if he's ordering everyone around.

I squint as he adds more chips to his bet. He's going for a bigger bet to win.

Did Eddie tell him what to do?

"The gentleman with the lucky lady next to him is a winner," the dealer says and winks at me.

Joseph collects his chips, then throws a couple the dealer's way.

"You want something to drink? My treat," He says as he watches a waitress passing us.

A man sits at a slot machine. His head bobs as he closes his eyes. I know the f*cker's higher than a kite. He's probably close to overdosing. Nevertheless, I keep walking, mentally taking bets whether he'll die before the casino security sees him.

Joseph stops.

I watch him studying the man. A nerve in Joseph's chin twitches.

Watching him makes me grin. He looks as if he's wrestling with something. Maybe, I think, he wants to save the man.

Yes, he's an undercover cop.

Joseph's turns to me, his expression is stormy, as he tells me, "Someone better save that man, or Mr. Young will lose a client."

Joseph stomps towards Eddie, who stands in line at the pit to cash his slot tickets.

"I've got some pot," I claim, not having any drugs on me. "Want some when we're finished here?"

He shakes his head. "I graduated from the small stuff long ago."

"I can get you something stronger," I tell him.

"I'll pass. I can deal and sample."

Eddie waves at us.

***

Joseph grabs the car door handle, preparing to leave. We finished the job. Of course, we spent enough not to get noticed by the feds in the casino.

"Hey, man, great job," Eddie nods at Joseph.

Joseph smiles. "Thanks. Hey, if you know of a bigger job, let me know. I really want to be Mr. Young's right-hand man."

"Will do, man. You're solid." Eddie grins.

I shake my head.

As soon as Joseph exits the car, I ask Eddie, "Is he a cop?"

Eddie studies me as if I asked if the Earth is a rectangle instead of round. "I spent three days in a cell with that man. He's cool as f**k. Now, he has some strange taste in women—he's got a thing for your sister, but he's no police officer."

"Do you know that for sure?"

He starts the car, shaking his head. "I told you, I know police officers. When you respect a police officer, you get a sixth sense. I can sniff one out."

***

The lights in the den on the house's first floor are still on as I hear Eddie drive away. I close the door and walk to the den as I frown.

Did Reece finally run away?

I knock on the door.

"Daddy?"

After a moment, Daddy says, "Yes?"

I slide the doors open and enter. My heart breaks as I see Daddy sitting at his desk, wringing his hands and looking down.

"Daddy, what's wrong?"

He stares off in space for so long that I think he didn't hear me. "Did everything go well?"

"Yes." I walk closer to his desk, looking worried. "Daddy, Reece is driving you crazy again, huh?"

Daddy looks at me. Slowly, he smiles. "No, she seems occupied with filing and taking calls."

Daddy's smile quickly fades.

"I would have expected Reece to be like you since," He stops and looks down. After a long pause, he continues, "Start thinking about your end game. I think Dean's right. There's an informant in the family."

"Dennis is gone."

Daddy looks at me.

I press my lips together and try to look relaxed. My body shakes from fear. For the first time, Daddy looks concerned—almost scared.

"Alex," he says, "I killed my Miles Sweet a long time ago to get where I am—with Dean's help."

I shrug. "I know, Daddy. He wanted you to become head of the family to create his own mafia family. Why the history lesson?"

He harshly explains, "I knew one day I'd meet the same fate. Now, I can only hope to meet the same fate."

"So, you're telling me that you'd rather die than..."

Daddy stands and walks around his desk. He pats me on the shoulder. "If the FBI is this close, I'm done."

Fear grips me. There's no way I will ever watch Daddy fall from grace. He took this mafia family and made it into something extraordinary. We're taking this family to the next level.

We've got a plan lined up to traffic—

"Goodnight, Alex."

"Daddy, I promise, I'll find the informant before they get to you," I tell him, pointing at myself. "I swear on Mama's grave, I will find him."