Read Online By Hook or By Crook by Linda Morris - Free Book Online

he’d ever know, but as he hefted his bag onto his shoulder, he reminded himself he liked it that way.
    “Ready?” he asked.
    ****
    “Jesus Christ!”
    Phil Cantor clicked his cell phone off and carefully lowered it to the bar, only just restraining himself from tossing it across the room. He let his arm fall limp, staring into the mirrored bar. What the hell should he do now? The mirror, mercilessly reflecting his receding hairline and weary face, gave him no answers.
    “What’s the matter, sweetie?”
    The dark-haired girl on his arm snuggled closer, brushing her breast against his arm. After a stressful week, he’d wanted to wind down at the Viennese, the martini lounge that was the centerpiece of Bellisimo nightlife. Not having a regular woman in his life, he’d made a call and arranged for paid companionship, which didn’t bother him a bit. He’d get laid later and he wouldn’t have to call her. Perfect.
    The call he’d gotten put an end to that prospect, however.
    “Nothing’s wrong, honey.” As he spoke the words, though, he wriggled out of her clutches. He had to think fast, and he couldn’t do it with a silicone-enhanced bimbo hanging onto his elbow.
    His plans for the Beatdown at the Bellisimo had gone slightly awry, thanks to one ungrateful son-of-a-bitch. The caller had been the Bellisimo’s fight manager, telling him that Pock had no-showed for the fight.
    The manager had been irate over having to scramble for a last-minute substitute, having no idea that the fight had been fixed for Jesse Dykeman. Cantor had offered Pock a hefty fee to make sure he lost. The manager had expected congratulations for finding a fighter to take on Dykeman on short notice. Unfortunately, nobody told the substitute to tank the fight.
    He hadn’t.
    Worse still, the sub broke Jesse Dykeman’s collarbone.
    Damn. Phil had made big plans for that punk Dykeman, and now his career was on hold before it had begun. More importantly, he’d directed his assistant to bet heavily on Dykeman.
    Shit. Eager to curry favor with powerful men, he’d bragged to several of the most dangerous men in the Vegas underworld that Dykeman was a safe bet, too. If those guys had lost money, they’d be pissed at him for sure. Certain his assistant had placed the bet regardless of Dykeman’s last-minute change of opponent, he confirmed it with a quick call.
    “Is everything okay, Mr. Cantor? Did I do something wrong?” Jerrie, his assistant, asked nervously.
    He couldn’t bring himself to yell at her for following his orders. Jerrie annoyed him with her perpetual fluttering, but she was the best damn assistant he’d ever had, even if he wanted to curse her efficiency at the moment.
    “Never mind,” he growled, hanging up.
    How much had his friends lost? Probably a ton, and they weren’t the kind of guys who took losing lightly. Would they come after him? Maybe, and all because some dumbass had a pang of conscience at the last minute and decided he didn’t want to throw the fight.
    But it wasn’t over yet. He’d make sure of it. He would take care of Pock and send the whole city a message they wouldn’t soon forget. You didn’t screw around with Phil Cantor and get away with it.
    “Get a refill, babe, and put it on my tab. I’ll be back in a minute.”
    The girl pouted, but she didn’t waste any time flagging the bartender down, he noticed. He escaped to the bar office and kicked the manager out, nearly slamming the door on the man’s foot. Cantor didn’t own the place, but one look at his face had convinced the manager to leave without further protest. Everybody at the Bellisimo treated Phil Cantor with respect. Soon, everybody in Vegas would.
    He dialed Ramirez. He needed a certain kind of help on this one, and Ramirez was the right guy for the job. Ramirez answered on the first ring. Quickly, Phil explained the situation.
    Ramirez swore. “I told you that puta was trouble. I know about these things. My mama did Santeria. She