Novel & Cerita Money Hustle Gambling Tattoos

Mildred sighed in relief. She thought Justin had gotten into serious trouble, but it was just a gambling debt. Although that was not great either, it was better than being kidnapped, with Jay's life at risk. Her focus shifted to paying the ransom, not withholding it. Despite her age, she had seen a lot in her years. In the current crackdown, those running underground casinos had influential backers. She had to take it seriously. "How much did he lose?" Mildred asked. "Six million," the boss replied.

Bill gives us both a childish smile and I groan in annoyance. Bill is notorious for his stupid bets. He loves a good gamble, but since I refuse to let him do so in a real environment, we agreed he could make bets with others on small things. Things like who might fall asleep on night duty and the likes. His most recent bet was on how long it would take Harriet to bed me. I left out that she had already been trying for some time. He feels cheated by my win on that bet. Now he is looking for that win with this new one.

The tattooed man's eyes lit up, and he looked at Ronald, "Mr. Marquez, if we let you two go just like that, wouldn't that a bit humiliating? If this gets out, people will laugh at us." "How much do you want?" Ronald sneered and asked. "Not much. Just this number." The tattooed man said as he extended five fingers. "Hug..." Ronald only continued to sneer. The tattooed man shuddered at his smile, and after thinking about it, he changed it to three fingers. "Aren't you afraid of losing your life for money?" Who dared to blackmail Ronald was truly seeking death. "Then how much? We spent so much effort to get you two over. We still have to make a living, don't we?" The tattooed man said.

“No offense, sweetheart, but your husband has too much attitude. One week with one of us and you’d never look back to him.” Misha’s lip twitched. It wasn’t a smile. Sebastian quickly stepped in, palms raised. “Okay. That’s enough. You guys need to cut it out. Please.” But Misha didn’t back off. “I could have all of you in wheelchairs in three minutes, but where’s the fun in that? No, I'll give you a chance, instead.” “A chance, you say?” “We’re in a casino. Let’s make it worth the chips. Poker. Blackjack. Russian roulette, if you’re feeling suicidal. Winner takes the table. Loser?” Misha tilted his head slowly, eyes sweeping across the group like a reaper counting souls. “Loses everything.”

As she unbuttoned his shirt, she noticed the tattoo of a horse on his neck which was mostly concealed by his shirt. "This is one of Christopher Stallion's men," she said. "What?" "Look at him," she said, pointing to the tattoo. "That is impossible," the governor incredulously. "My men are all trusted men." "But he has the tattoo of a horse on his neck. It would interest you to know that Stallion has a similar tattoo, and so does every member of his gang. Do you doubt it? I have a tattoo of a scorpion on my back because I am a Black Scorpion. All the members of the gangs have tattoos on their bodies."

“Oh, I get it now,” Trey said and laughed. “The arrow is pointing to your box. Lunch box.” “A little slow on the uptake today,” Dare said. “Too little blood in your brain, bro?” “Shut up. What kind of ass would make a woman get that tattooed on her hip?” “Same kind of ass that would make you and Brian get matching girlie tattoos on your asses,” Dare said. “I got off easy,” Reagan said. “Our bassist lost the same bet. He has a tat on his ass that says Emergency Entrance with an arrow that points to his… I’m sure you can guess.”

The bass thumped, the lights flashed, and the crowd writhed in a frenzy of lust and desire. It was a typical Saturday night at Club Xtasy, the hottest spot in town for those seeking a wild time. Amidst the sea of sweaty bodies, one figure stood out-a tall, muscular white man with a tribal tattoo snaking up his neck, a telltale sign of his true identity.

All the wealthy and popular people got their tattoos at his place and he was living the life. Until I entered the picture. With every year of grit, talent and aggressive marketing, GK Tattoos rose while Hushwolf ran on old glory. He still liked to pretend he hadn’t noticed me, even after I won all three awards he was nominated for last year and my name was on every lip in the tattoo community. Everyone that mattered wanted to get inked out by the Tattoo Master.

I screamed, struggling with the bouncer. The man came over, placing his finger on my lips. "Wait and see. Until then, be quiet." I swallowed hard as nausea engulfed me. IN THE CLUB... Hours passed, and the tattoo guy still hasn't killed us, which is surprising since I didn't have all his money. How is it? I just finished school, turned eighteen, and had a bright future. Now it's all over because of a gambling problem that's not even mine. I'm brought out of my thoughts to my phone buzzing violently in my pocket. I sighed, then glanced at my father.

“Geez, you look like you’re about to murder someone. You have to relax, bro. I know you have a crush on him and all, but he’s not stripping for the class. He’s just existing. Violently existing.” The guy sitting two seats over leaned across the aisle like they were all in on the same conspiracy. “That’s actually not normal tattoos, guys. That’s mafia ink,” he said, his voice slow and smug. “I’ve seen those before. A dagger-and-rosary combo is classic mafia. The guy’s probably got a rap sheet and a body count. I bet he’s got a private plane parked somewhere with blood money in the cargo hold.” Archer snorted. “You watch too much N*****x, bro.”