The Night of Seven by Nadia Siddiqui (each kindness read aloud .TXT) 📗

as if he can tell how much is there just by weight and feel alone. “Good rabbit.” The tattooed man dumps the cash out onto his coffee table and nods, then reaches into the back of his pants and pulls out the small revolver and slides it into the now-empty manilla envelope. “Small, just like you said. Though I think a string bean like you could handle something a little bigger, I think stealth is more your game, isn't it, rabbit?”

“Something like that.'' Stefan takes the envelope back and tucks it into the same place that the money had just been moments before, already feeling guilty for having done this in the first place. Yet at the same time, there's a strange calm, that at least he has it. At least he knows that it's going to be here if he needs it. He really, really hopes that he doesn't need it.

Though something tells him that he is making the right choice, even as seedy and uncomfortable as this whole process is, he knows that it is for the best. “Thank you,” Stefan mutters and starts walking backward toward the door.

As he leaves, he can hear the tattooed man laughing at him, muttering about fucking rabbits.

Stefan leaves the building as quickly as he can, more than ready to be back in his own bed, the gun safely tucked underneath his pillow and pretending that none of this ever happened.

Chapter Two

M adden

There is no place in the world that Madden loves more than Las Vegas. The old saying is true: what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. At least for him, that has proven to be true. These little business ventures are the entire highlight of his year. While he is only assigned to come here every three months or so, these trips are what keep him going through the monotony of his normal everyday life. It's not even that his life is boring, at least not normally. It's not that he's unhappy in his life. He has a lovely little house back in Ohio, a pretty little thing on a corner lot with three stories and a lovely yard. He has a boat that they take to a little lake on the weekends and a nice lake house to go with it. He has a loving wife and two beautiful little girls. No, madden doesn't dislike his life by any means. It's just that this adds a little flavor. He knows that it’s the stereotypical, pathetic man thing to say that living this dual life is what makes him thrive, but it is. He gets to be two different people. These trips always come at the right time for him to be able to have a breather from being a family man and dad. These trips allow him to live and to shake out all of the stressors that suburbia can put on a person. He knows that this life isn't sustainable. He knows that the way that Vegas Madden lives isn't something that he would survive having to do full time, but he figures that everything is about balance, and this is what provides him with the most balance that he can manage.

Honestly, he thinks that his wife feels the same way. While he’s never outright admitted to the things that he does here...he knows that she’s not stupid. Someday she might confront him about it, but maybe she will continue just being happy with the gifts that he sends her every time he comes here, at least if his luck continues. He knows that he's a good looking man, even with the gray that is starting to weave into his blond hair otherwise. He knows that he's in good shape; he has a very good job, and he knows that he's fun to be around. He just doesn't see the negative of this lifestyle.

It's a simple pleasure of waking up with silk sheets around his nude frame. The other side of the bed is usually occupied, but she had to work late last night. Madden likes knowing that he can take his time waking up, and no children are going to jump on him. In fact, Vegas Madden doesn't have kids at all. Vegas Madden is going to order room service and gorge himself on french toast and freshly cooked bacon strips. He will eat in leisure, shower, and shave in that same leisure if he doesn't decide to go down to the pool for some laps first, attend some meetings, head into the Vegas office for a few hours and then he has every intention of heading down into the casino to spend the rest of the evening with the love of Vegas Madden’s life.

He is slow to rise simply because he can be. He doesn’t have to rush. He can get the pot of coffee started in the elaborately fancy coffee maker that he never could imagine having at home. He likes to stay in the same room, and most of the hotel staff know how to cater things to the way that he likes it more often than not. It’s a small thing, but it makes him feel important. He knows that he isn’t much more special than the next guy that walks into a place like this, but it’s always so much fun to pretend.

On the nightstand, his phone buzzes softly. The vibration isn’t from a phone call or an alarm, so it must be a text message then. He carries two phones in Vegas. This one's for work, his family, all things that normal, everyday Madden must attend to. Vegas Madden has something far sleeker, something intended for only one purpose.

There’s a knock at the door, and Vegas Madden lifts his sleepy head and slowly starts to stretch his limbs and fully rouse himself from the deep, peaceful slumber that he has been in all night. Still sore from two