Money Hustle Gambling Tattoos Mga Nobela at Kwento

‘Vivien, allow me to clarify. I have to look for a man with violet eyes, white long hair and a dragon tattoo on his back?’ Jana was surrounded by raucous men and flapping noises— all coming from rows of table where they're playing cards. Those requirements are hard to miss. The pale hair should be a dead giveaway about who is his mission target for this instance. The problem is, she can't find the man. The gamblers were all hiding their heads in a hoodie. Gambling is an offense in this setting. It's a capital offense in this country. So Jana is in a situation that may lead her to death. Instantly.

I encouraged him. Liv grabs his phone and does so. “This mysterious tattoo on my chest Merry. It is America’s nickname.” I added. “Harrison shouldn’t we all stay cynical about this whole thing because what if you’re wrong about—” “The address is legit.” Liv cuts off William from speaking as he shows his phone to us. “It is real.” William breathes, “Okay so what if it’s legit.” “William, do you even have any single explanation why and how I had these tattoos?” I asked him.

He asked as he breathed out his smoke. I take off my jacket and my shirt to show him my tattoo of the Criemsons. The tattoo shows a blood sword that encircles with vipers and roses that symbolizes our gang or mafia name. I swiveled to indicate my identity while his ladies gape at me like the last cupcake in a bakery they wanted to devour. "Holy mother of great mercy" He grinned. "Now can we converse interaction?" I asked before I put my clothes in and I know his kittens will groan for consuming clothes.

Battered hands, inked with tattoos: MAMA on his knuckles, a dove, and more ink disappearing beneath his tank top. Another man chuckles under his breath. “She stays, maybe we talk more,” Green Eyes says. I glance at Angelo. His face is stone. “She’s not payment,” Nate growls, fighting back the urge to stand. “Oh, come on. She’s a gift to the room,” another pipes up. “You sure you don’t want to share?” “Ettiene,” Angelo warns, voice low and lethal. But Green Eyes doesn’t stop. Maybe it’s just me or maybe I’m naive but I didn’t expect this from a man with MAMA tattooed all over his skin. Then again, what do I expect from unethical thugs?

His hand is covered in a spider’s web tattoo, his face is ugly as sin with hooded eyes and what looks like a nose all busted up from one too many fights. “Let the fuck go of my hand you dick,” I tell him. His grip tightens. “Your whore of a mother owes me money cunt, and I am here to collect!”

There was no changing. Slowly, with a reluctant nod, I gave in. Just like that, she won. ~~~ KYOMI POV The casino was a gold plated sin. Crystal chandeliers dropped like diamonds from thr ceilings. Everything flowed in blood red lighting, and smoke filled the air. The lavishness of it all screamed money and corruption and sin. A tall, tattooed man in a grey suit approached us with a bow of his head. “Mr Russo.” He called out a thick Russian accent settling in tone like a heavy weight. “Follow me please.”

Derrick wasn’t one to lie to me. “And this hotel? Your tattoos? What else have you been hiding, Derrick?” He chuckled silently but loud enough for me to hear. “This… is just one of my investments,” he said, rubbing his neck. I heard him. I knew I heard him. But for some reason, I didn’t understand him. “This and several other casinos too.” My mouth fell open. Derrick… a gambler?

My gaze drifted unconsciously to his collarbone. There was a new tattoo there. Red, still swollen from being freshly inked, but unmistakable. It was my name. The characters were rendered in the most ancient, wild cursive form of script, like an old, binding sigil. My fingers trembled as I touched it. “When did you… get this?” Henry caught my hand and rubbed it gently against his palm. “Last night, after you fell asleep.” “Did it hurt?” “It was better that it hurt.” His eyes darkened, and a satisfied smile curved his lips.

There was noise around and I really questioned Sante's decision to have poker in the middle of a busy casino. "What do you want?" Elliot finally asked looking up. I noticed the dark bags under his eyes and the unkempt state of his hair. "You really let yourself go didn't you?" I asked chuckling. "Must be hard to lose all the money you did." "Cut to the chase," Sante snapped, his eyes narrowing at me. He had a snake tattoo on the side of his neck, the sign of his mafia. "I'm looking for someone," I said doubling the bet amount.

Beggars have a slogan of staying out of shit unless… “Stand back and watch,” I say, my voice firm. I’m not giving up. Hera’s in a hospital bed because of this mess, and I’m not walking away empty-handed. I turn back to the woman, pulling a few crumpled dollars from my pocket. Her eyes lock on the money, and I see a flicker of interest. “Help me out,” I say, holding the bills just out of reach. “This guy is trouble. Have you seen him around here? Or anyone with a tattoo like this?” I scroll to the next picture of the Shadow Riders logo of a skull with crossed daggers.