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“You know what, Vice?” I looked over at Chase.

“What, you've had a change of mind and are going to let Harlow and me go?” I threw that out there, you never know.

“That sounds nice...” he shoved Bridget from his lap, then stood from his chair with the silver plate, sniffing again. “But, no. I was thinking that maybe with you being a little too high strung at the moment that blow wouldn't be a good thing for you. We'll just stick with the booze and these,” he grabbed pills from the plate and palmed them down onto the table top. “Take them,” he poured me another shot.

“What the hell are they?” I stared at four blue pills sitting next to the tequila.

“It makes you feel good, who fucking cares, right?” Sam and Chase laughed. Bridget and Harlow just staring at me.

Apparently I stared at them too long. “Jackson, take the fucking pills,” Chase had the pistol pointed between my eyes.

“Chase!” Harlow cried.

“I will kill you, then her...” he pulled the gun back. “Fucking take them,”

I took the pills and tossed them down with a shot of tequila. I was unsure of what the pills were and what they would do to me. Chase poured me another shot and I prepared for a long, fucking night.
Chapter Twelve

Harlow

I sat there watching Vice silently, letting the tears roll down my face. I was very upset as I had no idea what pills that my brother had given him. I looked at the clock on the wall it was now six in the evening and it has been thirty minutes since he took them. Vice took his seventh shot that my brother made him take. I watched him choke it down. My heart was breaking with every second that passed.

“Are the pills working yet, Jackson?” my brother said from across the table, his jaw clenched tight as he was looking at his cards high as all hell.

I looked at Vice who shrugged his shoulders. “Not sure what I am looking for, Miller,” he slurred. “But the alcohol is working just fine,”

“I am sure that Sam will let you know,” he laughed.

Sam? How would she know if he was feeling the pills? What the hell did she matter?

“Ooh... good hand, sexy,” Sam reached her hand to Vice's cheek and he backed away, laying his cards on the table.

“Four of a kind,” he sighed, shooting me an easy smile. I couldn't find it in me to smile back.

“Straight flush,” Chase laughed, scooping the chips to his chest. “Did I tell you what the wager of the night is?”

“You didn't say shit about a wager, Miller,” Vice eyed him.

“Okay, then I didn't. Let me fill you in,” he dealt the cards. “Whoever looses, dies,”

I gasped, looking over at Vice. “Vice!” I cried out. I was confident in Vice, but not in the liquid courage or pills that my brother was shoving down his throat.

“It's okay, babe,” he slurred, giving me a groggy smile.

“You're positive those pills aren't working yet, Jackson?” he laughed. “You're looking awfully flushed,”

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Vice shook his head. I could see that his cheeks were red and that his forehead was starting to profusely sweat.

“Whoa... I think they are working,” Sam giggled, rolling her hips in circles making Vice groan.

“Chase! What did you give him!?” I watched Vice close his eyes as Sam kept rolling her hips.

“Oh, just a few Viagra is all,” he shrugged. “I figured with you in here that he would have some problems. Easily solved, sister,” he laughed.

“You are big, Vice Jackson,” she growled, turning to face the table. She was grinding her ass against my boyfriends artificial erection.

Vice made eye contact with me, his eyes were hooded. He was trying so hard to focus on me. With a groan every so often he was still playing poker, ignoring anything Sam was saying or doing while on his lap. I was proud of him and I know that if anything were to happen that it was against his will and meant nothing toward me in a deceitful way.

“Flush,” Vice groaned, tossing his cards onto the table. He was sweating like crazy, and his entire face and neck was bright red.

“Pair,” Chase tossed his cards. “You got me on that one... you okay down there, Jackson?”

“Oh, my fucking God,” he growled. Sam was on her knees now, her lips all over his stomach. He ran his hands down his face then making eye contact with me.

“It's okay, Vice,” I cried.

“You know... if he doesn't do it with as much pecker pills as he has in his system, he will die,” Chase lit another cigar. “Do you see how red his face is?”

He was still staring at me. It looked as though he was holding his breath, his color was a reddish-purple. I was starting to panic. “Sam, just do it,” I cried.

“No, no,” Vice groaned, trying his hardest to move away from Sam.

“You have to, Vice. It will kill you,” I heard Sam unzip his pants. “Just keep your eyes on me, it's okay. It's not your fault,” I was trying to hold back my sobs as I know it would make it that much more difficult on Vice to take what was being given to him.

“I love you, Harlow Jean,” he whispered. I could hear her sucking on him and I wanted to throw up, but I kept my eyes on Vice. “I can't do this,” he was starting to cry.

“I love you, too,” I swallowed hard, trying to get a hold of myself. There was nothing more gut wrenching than watching the man you love fall apart because of something he couldn't control. “Do you remember last night?” I smiled a genuine smile. “Do you remember the heat, Vice?”

“The heat,” he smirked at me, closing his eyes remembering me waking him up in the middle of the night, my sex showering him with my heat.

I closed my eyes hearing him being sucked on harder. I held back my sob, letting the tears roll down my cheeks. I heard him groan with the mixing sound of Chase shuffling the cards waiting for the game to continue. It made me sick knowing he could just sit there as if this wasn't going on right in front of him. Vice was panting and growling out loud and I knew, I knew it was over. I opened my eyes and looked at Vice, he was bringing his head back up, it was returning to a more normal color. I sighed a breath of relief.

“He was holding back something alright,” Sam coughed, standing to her feet.

“I am so sorry, babe,” he was crying. He stumbled out of the chair, then fell to his knees at my feet. “I love you,” he laid his head upon me, wrapping his arms around my legs.

“It's okay,” I wanted to touch him, to kiss his lips and reassure him that I wasn't upset. I was just thankful that he was okay.

“Boo-fucking-hoo, Jackson,” with a cigar hanging from his lips, Chase dealt the cards. “You might want to hurry and get this game over with. You have probably less than an hour until you splurge or die,”

Vice gently kissed my lips, I could taste the salt from his tears and the tequila on his lips. He stood up and sat back in his seat. “Well, let's get this shit over with. I refuse to let her put her mouth on me again,”

“Screw you,” Sam said from my brothers lap completely offended.

“No, thanks,” Vice said, distaste hanging from each word. Sam letting out a gasp with wide eyes, then stomped out of The Lily Room.

Chase was laughing, “That was funny,” he slid a full shot glass to Vice, he slammed it.

“High card, ace,” Vice slapped his cards on the table with a sigh.

“You are playing like shit, Jackson,” Chase ran his thumb down Bridget's chest making her giggle.

“You are dealing like shit, Miller,” Vice spat back.

“If I were you, I would try a little harder,” Chase was so kindly reminding Vice of the wager; winner lives... loser dies.

“If I didn't know any better, I would think there was a conspiracy here, Miller. I'm playing the hands you're dealing me,” Vice watched the cards being dealt.

I could see that Vice was getting extremely tired, I was beyond exhausted, too. My legs have been numb for the last two hours, and the smell from the vomit on my shirt was putrid in my nose.

“Don't get me wrong, I would love nothing more than to pull the fucking trigger on you, Jackson. However-”

“Oh, my God... shut up, Chase!” I growled, throwing my head back against the chair. I couldn't listen to his bullshit anymore. I have been listening to his mouth go on and on and on, running for eight hours solid. “Please!”

“River card, Miller,” Vice stared at his fanned cards.

I closed my eyes and the only sounds coming from the table were from shuffling cards, chattering of chips, and my brother sniffing uncontrollably. The minutes ticking by, the noises becoming more and more distant by the seconds, I fell asleep.
Chapter Thirteen

Vice

I glanced over at Harlow who has had her eyes closed for the last fifteen minutes, she was breathing heavily and her chin was to her chest. She fell asleep. I was thankful that she had, at least she would be without the stress as long as she were sleeping.

I can't press enough, the feeling that took over me as I took in the look on her face when that whore of a red head's lips were around my dick. I knew with the unbearable pressure in my face, and every limb that I had no choice but to let her suck me off. It felt like I had a noose around my neck, my arms, my legs, and around my erection. I was going to explode. The fear in Harlow's eyes of something happening to me was far greater than the sick sense of another woman touching me. I would have rather died than have her touch me, but the thought of Harlow and my child being without me over something so incredibly ridiculous wasn't an option. I chose to die inside instead.

I knew undoubtedly that Chase was handing me shitty hands, and that my impending death was around the corner. I was becoming angrier and angrier with every hand. I could have sat here with fold after fold, but I didn't with the understanding that regardless, I was going to die. Miller was ahead in chips by two hundred grand, while mine were a measly fifty. Continuing to play was prolonging my death by hours. Harlow didn't need to sit, bound in that chair with blood, vomit, and beer on her any longer. To me, it felt as though I was being selfish. I would die before it meant she were miserable, so I made a decision.

“Miller, I'm done,” I said with a quiet sigh trying not to wake Harlow. I threw my shitty two pair for the trillionth hand in a row to the felt.

“Were not done yet,” he puffed on his fifth cigar.

Leaning forward into the table, I looked him in the eyes. “I said, I am fucking done,”

“What do you mean you're done, Vice?” he pushed Bridget off of his lap, she fell to her ass onto the floor. With wide eyes she quickly scooted to the corner of the room. Her legs drawn to her chest, she knew something was about to go down.

I looked over at a still sleeping Harlow. “You and I both know that you shooting me in the fucking head is inevitable. I would rather you do it now while she is asleep than for her to watch you point that cowardly fucking metal in my face.” I stood from my chair. I wasn't scared, I wanted to be rid of this torture that he was putting me and Harlow through. I knew without a doubt that life for Harlow would return to normal after I were gone. She and the baby would move on, she would have my mom and Skip if she were to need anything.

Chase smiled, both hands still on top of the table. “No,” he shook his head.

I charged to Chase's side of the table making Bridget flinch. I grabbed the gun from the silver tray, forcefully putting it in his hands and held it to my own forehead. I squeezed his hand tighter around the pistol.

“I am fucking serious, Miller,” I seethed in his face, his heart was racing and his breathing was erratic as he stared at me. He tried pulling his hand back but I forced it to stay put.

“If you want to fucking kill me, Miller than fucking do it. If not, let us go the fuck home. As long as you are torturing the love of my life and my unborn child because I am still breathing than I don't want to live anymore,” Adrenaline forcing my teeth to clench, I waited.

Chase looked at Harlow with a grin. “Okay, first thing is first,”

“Just fucking shoot me!” I gripped his hand around the pistol tighter, pressing it firmly to my forehead.

Chase let out a laugh, kicking Harlow's chair making Bridget scream. It knocking sideways then back upright making her gasp as her head snapped upright. She shot a look in our direction, her chest rising and falling in shear panic as she saw the gun in my face, tears instantly wetting her cheeks.

“She needs to see this, Vice,” Chase stood up from his seat.

“Please don't do this, Chase!” she cried out hysterically. “Please!” she rocked in the chair back and forth, wiggling her wrists and ankles trying so hard to loosen the rope around her.

“Sister,” Chase sighed. I let my hand drop from his as he held the gun steady on my forehead.

“Please, please, please don't kill him!” she sobbed. “I can't live without him, Chase. He is the first person since mom died that has made me happy,” she cried. “Please, don't take him from me!” she screamed, bouncing in the chair making her wrists bleed as she kept on the rope frantically.

I looked at Chase, his expression was suddenly calm. Something that Harlow had said triggered something in Chase. “I see her everywhere, Harlow Jean,” his voice was shaky. “Mom is my dreams, I can smell her perfume and I swear to God that I can still feel her hands nursing the wounds dad caused me over and over again,”

“Chase, what are you talking about?” Harlows brows furrowed, and she stopped struggling. “What wounds did dad cause?”

“Of course you wouldn't remember, Harlow,” he wiped the tear that escaped his eye. “Fuck, you were so busy with your friends, and your boyfriend to know that dad would pick me up after the school called him and so nicely let him know that I snuck off, was ditching school, and getting into trouble and you know what he would do? Every fucking time? He would pick me up from the office playing the good fucking father and take me to his house to beat the fuck out of me. I had to be punished like a man if I wanted to act like a boy, he would always say,”

Harlow gaped. “I thought you were playing football, Chase!” she cried. “I am so sorry!”

Suddenly, I felt anxious. I took several steps back away from chase, closer to Harlow. My mother had called their dad and he was coming to Vegas. Coming to Vegas for Chase because of his actions.