It could save Savea.
But wishing for things you didn't have wouldn't help.
I could raise the one-eighty.
I didn't doubt that. The Mallicks had money. Charlie and Helen - the patriarch and matriarch of the clan - could likely cover it all without blinking.
And as much as I hated to admit it, it might hurt my pride a bit to ask. Even if they would never think less of me for it. Even if all they cared about was the safety and well-being of Savea, someone they also cared for deeply.
"You know what," I decided, casting a long look at him at a red light.
"I don't think I like that look."
"You're probably not going to like this plan. But you are going to go along with it. Willingly or not,. I don't fucking care, honestly. But this is what is going to happen. You are going to come with me to visit some good friends of mine. The Mallicks."
"Oh, shit."
"Yep. Oh, shit. You are going to ask them for the one-eighty. And they are going to give it to you because, guess what, they love Savea too. And I am going to make sure they collect their usual interest. I don't give a fuck if you have to get three jobs scrubbing toilets, cutting lawns, wiping asses to make it. you will make it. And you will pay it back. Or I will gladly show up each and every time Shane - that giant boulder of a man with a heart of stone when it comes to his work - darkens your doorsteps and beats payments out of you. That is what we are going to do. And you're not going to get the money back at tables. You're going to do it honest."
"If I say no?"
"If you say no, I will personally take you somewhere dark and quiet and handle you myself. In a more permanent way. Can't say I've taken a life before. But for Savvs, I would be happy to break that record, cross that line. I don't need you anymore. Keep that in mind."
We pulled up an hour later to the bar after asking Nixon to assemble everyone.
The Mallicks, in order to appear more legitimate, and, well, wash their dirty money, owned a lot of local businesses. Buildings, lawn companies, a gym. And, originally, the bar.
Chaz's.
Closed at this time of day.
Open only for this kind of business.
Back door kind of business.
And that was where I led Harry, still holding onto the back of his shirt, slick now with sweat, realizing how good and fucked he was for the foreseeable future, but hopefully aware of how he had earned every bit of the hardship, maybe enough to try to turn his fucking life around.
They were an intimidating sight, the Mallick family all standing in a line.
Charlie was older, graying at the temples, but strong and fierce. You wouldn't look at him and easily picture him sitting on the floor doing a puzzle with his grandkids, pushing them on swings until they squealed, sneaking them candies behind their parents' backs. Even someone like me who had seen such things dozens of times before couldn't find a trace of the grandfather in Charlie, the businessman, the loanshark.
Lined up beside him were his sons. Ryan, Mark, Eli, Hunter, and Shane. Hunt wasn't even in the business anymore, but, I figured, because this was family, he was there. Ready to fight if need be.
Now, they were all terrifying in their own way, tall, strong, dark-haired, light blue eyed. Criminals - and former criminals, all of them.
But none of them, not a single one of them, was quite as scary as the only woman standing beside them.
Helen Mallick.
To be a woman married to a loanshark, who raised five headstrong, loanshark and enforcing sons, she had to be formidable, a force to be reckoned with.
And that was exactly what she looked like right then and there.
Five-foot-nine inches of motherly fury. Hazel eyes sparking.
This was a woman who locked you out if you showed up two minutes late to dinner, who provided a soft heart and a firm hand to all those around her.
Charlie's hand moved out, snatching his wife's hand, holding her there, like he somehow knew she intended to fly across the room, do even more damage than I had already done to Harry.
"We can be pissed at Harry later," I announced to the dead silence of the room. "Right now, he needs a loan of one-eighty. With interest," I added with emphasis, eyes going to Charlie and then Shane, making sure they understood my implication. Charlie's head gave the slightest of nods, securing the money, the interest on it. Shane's giant hand closed into a fist, promising what would happen if the interest wasn't paid. "And then I need to find someone in this town who might be in-the-know enough with the rich folks who might know about an underground casino run by someone named Eamon Awan."