Free SINdicate: A BT Urruela FanFiction Novel: Cerberus MC Book 1.5 by Marie James Page B

if he saw this. She shrinks back slightly, and I feel like a total asshole now. Poor thing, it’s not her fault.
    She stands taller, and I can tell she’s looking at someone over her shoulder. I’m hoping it’s who I need and not security.
    “I get paid tomorrow,” I tell her for good measure.
    “You should come back tomorrow,” she says with more backbone that she had just the minute prior.
    “Come with me, sir,” I hear a gravelly voice say from behind me.
    I fumble and fall into him as I turn. “Easy there,” he says grabbing my upper arms to help me steady myself.
    “Thanks, man,” I mutter.
    “You having trouble with your card?” he asks.
    “Yeah. My direct deposit hasn’t hit yet.” He’s wearing a nice suit and not a security uniform.
    “I bet I can help you out.” Pay dirt.
    “That’d be great, man.” For impact, I wipe my mouth on my arm like a drunken man with no money.
    “Follow me,” he says and turns toward a door beside the teller’s station. Access to the loan shark right beside her. How convenient.
    He uses a passcode to unlock the door then holds it open for me. It slaps shut behind us, and the sound reverberates off the walls sending a wash of unease down my spine.
    Thirty yards down the narrow hall and a quick elevator ride into the bowels of the casino and the man in the suit steps up to a closed door. “Vinnie SINclair” is posted on a placard beside the door. Suit man knocks and gets an “It’s open” from behind the door.
    “Hey, boss,” suit man says walking into the office. I follow him like the lost, poor puppy that I am. “This guy needs some help until his direct deposit hits tomorrow.”
    “Have a seat.” Vinnie, I presume, is sitting behind a heavy desk in the center of the room. Just like any classic mob movie from Hollywood, he’s obese, wearing an ill-fitted suit, and smoke from a cigar curls up from an overfull ashtray on his desk.
    Doing as he’s instructed, I flop down in the single chair that’s in front of his desk. I groan in relief and allow my head to roll slightly on my shoulders.
    “How much you need?” Vinnie asks.
    I glance over my shoulder and see suit man near the door, looking bored with his arms crossed over his chest.
    “Couple hundred,” I tell him. “My check is about that much this week.” I rub my hand over my bare face and immediately want to kick this fat bastard in the face. If this whole ordeal goes south, I’m certain it’s because I had shaved off the beard.
    “You look familiar,” he says with narrowed eyes. My blood runs cold. Fuck my life if this thing is over before I can even get started. “You borrow from me before?”
    Relief washes over me. “Nope. I never borrowed from anyone. It’s just been a shitty year, but my luck’s changing. I can feel it.”
    Suit man huffs a chuckle from behind me. Apparently they hear that a lot around here.
    “I don’t loan out a couple hundred,” Vinnie says, blowing a puff of smoke in my face.
    “Thank you for your time,” I say and attempt to get out of the chair. In my “drunken state,” it takes a few tries.
    “I can do a little more,” he says as suit man puts a hand on my shoulder indicating I need to stay in the chair.
    “Sure, okay,” I say with an over exaggerated shrug of my shoulders.
    “I’m a businessman. You gotta sign a contract,” Vinnie informs me.
    “I’ll sign anything you want if I can get back out to the tables before my luck runs out,” I slur.
    He pulls a stapled packet from a drawer in the desk and slides it across to me. I snatch a pen from the cup on the desk and flip to the back page.
    “When do I have to pay you back?” I ask holding the pen above the signature line.
    “Loans this small have to be paid in a week,” he informs me.
    I nod my head and sign on the line.
    “You ain’t gonna read that first?”
    “I’m pretty sure it doesn’t say you’ll kill me if I can’t pay,” I say with a shrug of my shoulders.
    They both