Player: Stone Cold MC (14 page)

Thanks to Cassandra and all her babbling about the things we just didn’t talk about, that dam wall was cracking, the pressure too much to keep everything inside.

I paced the living room, fingers against my temples as if that was going to stop the storm from breaking. Of course that didn’t make a difference, and as the last restraints gave way, my past came crashing down on me with a thunder and a roar that drowned out all real life.

Mom was a gambler, and with her the addiction was very serious and very real. It was one of the reasons Dad left in the end. I understood why he left; it was hard working all day when the money just went to the slots no matter what—but I still blamed him for it. Cass wasn’t supposed to be a mom, and he didn’t leave her a choice because our real mom was always missing in action, and now she was the only parent left.

I couldn’t remember when the whole gambling thing had started. All I knew was that I was a teenager who never had money to afford the right clothes, the right shoes, and consequently the right friends.

Or any friends at all, for that matter, because we were the girls with the crazy mom.

Life sucked, but it wasn’t unbearable. It was just the kind of thing I didn’t want to be a part of anymore. I was seriously thinking of running away when Cass and Mom came home from the doctor. Mom had been feeling off lately. Too much gambling, in my opinion, but Cass had taken to caring for her too—again, too much for a daughter to deal with, but I couldn’t find the courage in me to help—and she’d dragged her off to the doctor.

Cancer, they’d said. Eating away at her brain. A creature that consumed her brain the same way she ate through the bit of savings we had left until one day there would be nothing left.

I didn’t know which came first—Cass getting a job or Mom dying—but I remember thinking when she was gone that finally all Cass’s hard work would remain and not be thrown down the drain over and over again.

It was pretty simple from there. I finished school, Cass worked hard to have money of which there was never enough, and I wished for a life away from all the hell that seemed to follow us no matter how hard we prayed for things to change.

When Cass met Collin, I was ready to bolt. She had someone she could lean on, and she didn’t need to worry about money anymore, which by default meant she stopped worrying about me, too.

I wasn’t ready for a repeat of who and what Mom was, so I left. I started gambling, too. It wasn’t because I missed Mom as much as it was that I knew I could do it right. The money was easy. It was just the will to stop that needed to be cultivated. And I managed that.

Sure, I got addicted, too, but I’d never been in a place where I had no cash. And I would never, ever take money that was meant to take care of someone else. Which was why I was better off perfectly alone.

I pushed my hands into my hair and made fists until pulling my hair gave me a headache. It dimmed the memories, though, so it was worth it. I picked up my cellphone and looked at it. Still no messages from Rip, no sign of the bastard.

Fuck him.

The deal with Rat was pretty sweet. He made good work of putting his product back on the streets, and before I knew it, money was rolling in. Jerrill didn’t seem to notice that his product had disappeared. I spent two nights at Harlan Gold, watching him just to be sure that everything was running smoothly.

Rat had given me my share which proved he could be trusted. I was at Harlan Gold again on Saturday, playing some tables. I wasn’t keeping much of an eye on Jerrill anymore. I’d been nervous just after I’d stolen the crack, but things stayed calm as far as I could tell.

I was busy making a win with blackjack when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I wondered for a second if it was Alex. I still hadn’t spoken to her, and it was almost a week now. I still owed her a date, but I didn’t want to face her without the money I was making. That and the money from the winnings that first night. I hadn’t wanted to leave it there in the black bag like it was crime money; she seemed better than that.

I pulled out my phone. It was Rat, asking me to meet him in the alley. We hadn’t spoken since he’d given me my share of cash like a good partner, so I told him I was going to be right out and finished up my game. I walked away with a couple of hundred in my pocket and that sense of satisfaction spreading through my bones the way it did when I won.

This was one of the only reasons I still stuck to doing what I was doing. Winning just worked for me.

I reached the fire escape, looked around to make sure I wasn’t followed, and then slipped through the door. A thin drizzle came from the sky, just enough to make everything wet. The concrete under my feet was shiny with old oil and other rubbish, and the skin on my face was clammy by the time I reached the place where we usually met. Rat emerged from the shadows just as I arrived.

“I have a proposition for you,” he said, getting right to the point. “I’ve been thinking about how we pulled that last job. If we can do that on a bigger scale, we can really pull it in.”

I raised my eyebrows at him. “You want me to steal from more people?”

He nodded. “I have a couple of people I supply. I’m sure we can work something out.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. It’s a big risk for me, and you get away scot-free.”

“It’s not though. I have risks, too. Dealing isn’t a walk in the park, you know, and the cops are on my trail every now and then.” He jammed his hands into his pockets. He wore a brown leather jacket that looked like the real deal and screamed that whatever his illegal business encompassed, it was good business.

“It’s really not the same,” I said, shaking my head. I wasn’t going to put myself at risk that way if he wasn’t going to make the same sacrifices. Besides I used to be a great cat burglar, but that was because I’d had a partner. Emmett and I had made one hell of a team. Thinking about it, about him, shot a sharp pain into the middle of my chest, and I rubbed my sternum with the tips of my fingers.

“You ladies having a tea party out here in the alley, or are you talking business?” a deep voice said behind us, and we both spun around. Jerrill’s henchman stood right behind us. Rat made like his namesake and scurried away. He was lost in the shadows only a moment later, and it made me think twice about how much of a risk he was really taking.

Mr. Muscle grabbed me by the arm in a vice grip that I couldn’t break out of no matter how much I twisted and tugged my arm.

“Mr. Jerrill wants a word with you,” he said. He looked like he should have been Russian or Scandinavian or something, with his build and his square face, but his accent was purebred American.

“I’ll have to check my calendar to see if I can fit him in,” I said, struggling against him as he dragged me across the alley as if I wasn’t fighting him at all. The light rain had stopped, but everything was still wet, giving me no grip on the asphalt with my shoes.

Mr. Muscle dragged me through the casino, and I got sympathetic glances from the few people who saw me and knew what predicament I was in. Having Jerrill’s bodyguard lead you by the scruff of your neck just didn’t end well for most people.

We made it through the casino and to the other side where I was wrestled through a narrow door into a bunch of corridors. We moved through the maze of tunnels, and I noticed that the cameras that were set at regular intervals had no red lights showing that they were recording.

Until now, the only thing I’d been thinking about was getting away from this brute, but now that it was evident I wasn’t going to get away—I wouldn’t even know the way out if I did escape the iron grip—I was starting to get nervous about what was going to follow.

Mr. Muscle opened another door and then we were inside a large office that looked lush and luxurious, nothing like the drab corridors I’d been dragged through. The carpet was plush under my shoes, and I wondered for a moment if I was leaving mud marks. Tall bookshelves stood against all the walls except for one that had an oil painting of a beach scene against it.

A large, dark brown desk and matching chair stood in the middle of the room, and Antonio Jerrill sat behind it, looking like he thought he was king.

Or God.

Mr. Muscle finally let me go, and I yanked my arm free like my release had been my own doing. Jerrill leaned back in his chair.

“What were you doing talking to Mr. Miller?” he asked.

“Who?”

“Eugene Miller. My associate.”

He glanced up at the henchman to my side. “John?”

John? John the henchman. Really?

“He was talking to him in the alley,” he said. “I saw him leave through the fire exit.”

“You were in the alley talking to Mr. Miller.”

So Rat had a name.

“I didn’t know he was an associate,” I said. “It was personal. He’s… a friend.”

That was what he’d said after all. A friend, so I could call him Rat.

Jerrill laughed, steepling his fingers on the desk. The sound wasn’t a nice one, something menacing rather than joyful. Then he nodded to John the henchman and a huge fist came out of nowhere and hit me in the stomach. The sucker punch floored me, and I sank to my knees, couching and gasping for air. It felt like he’d ruptured something. I was struggling to get in enough oxygen just to function.

“I know you,” Jerrill said after I’d managed to get myself standing again. My insides were screaming obscenities at me, and I wondered if Jerrill would be offended if I vomited on his nice carpet.

“I don’t think so,” I said. My voice was strained.

“I think I do,” he answered. “You’re the arrogant son of a bitch who’s been showing face around my casino.”

I assumed that he meant it was his casino in the sense that he was the most consistent regular. It might have been wrong, it’s happened before.

“So, seeing that beating you up or throwing you out won’t keep you away, I propose we play this like real men.”

I wasn’t sure what that meant so I didn’t respond. He nodded as if answering himself. “That’s what we’ll do. Poker.”

Not again.

“How about blackjack?” I said. “I’ve only just learned the game, and it fascinates me.” Of course that was a lie on all counts, but I wanted him to think I was new to it. I knew how to count, and I thought that would let me win better than poker would at this point. Jerrill smiled an awful smile that promised more pain than pleasure. His black eyes were shrewd.

“Very well. I always allow preferences around here.” He nodded at Henchman John who grabbed my arm again.

“I can walk by myself,” I said. Jerrill looked at me for a moment as if considering it, and then nodded.

“Let him carry himself out with dignity,” he said. Dignity. How nice.

The idea was to win as much money as I could and then get away somehow. I didn’t want to leave Jerrill empty-handed, not after he’d dragged me around like a servant.

He got up from behind his desk, and I followed him out of the office and through the maze of tunnels with John flanking us. The bodyguard was light on his feet, silent as we walked. I knew he was there only by his looming shadow.

When we were back in the casino, the crowds parted for Jerrill. I followed him through to the middle blackjack table. The dealer was swapped, a new deck of cards opened, and our money exchanged for chips.

This wasn’t exactly a game that you played against someone else, rather against the dealer, but I had the idea Jerrill wanted to stick close to me. And if it really was his casino as he said, it didn’t matter which way he played it, the money would end up in his pocket anyway.

The game started and I focused, counting the cards like Alex had taught me. I did pretty well, too. I wished she could see me winning the way I did. Jerrill got more and more irritated every time I won.

“For a beginner, you’re good at the game,” he said.

“Beginner’s luck,” I said, but by the way he squinted at me, I was sure he wasn’t buying it. I had to make a plan to get out of here soon if I wanted to leave with all my body parts intact. I glanced over at John’s hands. They were folded in front of his body, but together they were the size of my head. My stomach still hurt, and I didn’t want another run in with those fists.

“I find it strange that you said no to poker,” Jerrill said. “After all, I know that it’s something you like to do. Mr. Reeker.”

I hadn’t given him any names, especially not that one. He knew who I was and that I was involved in the Crucifix Six. I was in trouble now.

I started collecting my chips calmly.

“I need to get going,” I said. Jerrill looked up at me.

“So soon?” he asked. John headed toward me, but there was a considerable crowd and they didn’t part for him the way they did for Jerrill. It would have worked better if Jerrill himself came after me, but the man obviously didn’t get his hands dirty.

I pushed through the crowds easily and made it to the money counter where I swapped my chips for cash. The lady behind the glass took forever to count it and hand it to me. I glanced over my shoulder. John was getting closer, steamrolling over guests who wouldn’t move. I tried to leave, but suddenly no one moved for me the way they had before. John was coming.

I did the next best thing. I grabbed an empty beer bottle from the table nearby and smashed it over a man’s head. I turned and threw it to John who caught the broken bottle on instinct. By the time the guy’s friends looked around to see what had happened it looked like John had been the one to start the fight.

They jumped him without a second thought. The fight spread like a wildfire, as if hate was contagious, and suddenly everyone fought around me. It made it impossible for John to come after me. Security shut the front doors, and I knew the police would come sooner rather than later.

I changed direction and made my way to the fire exit where I let myself out and ran down the wet alley, money hugged to my chest and no one following me.