Chapter 1 #2
Here’s hoping they don’t notice my new jewelry.
On each thumb, I have a ring that will deposit a tiny smudge of invisible ink when I press it against the card in the right way.
Only the special contact lenses that Silas’ associates will be wearing tonight will be able to view the ink marks.
And by associates, I mean the group of cheaters who have been working their way across the country, scamming casinos out of millions.
And they kidnapped my best friend to force me to help them.
As soon as I get her back, I’m going to make them sorry they ever messed with me.
Somehow.
Sketchy on the details of how I’ll pull that off, since I can’t even curse, let alone do something violent. However, I’m nothing if not determined when someone I love has been harmed. Maybe I’ll channel my inner bull and gore Silas.
Eww. That sounds revolting. Let’s go with a nice trampling. Lila the bull will need to work up to goring.
Keith keeps me entertained with his cheeky quips and over-the-top facial expressions. For the thousandth time, I wish I had a dad like Keith. Someone fun and easygoing. A man who smiles and is always genuinely happy to see me.
Oh well. If wishes were fishes, we’d all be fried.
Using Keith’s presence to calm me, I eventually start marking the cards. The ring on my right thumb has the color ink for the aces, and the one on my left has the ink for the face cards.
Aces on the right. Aces on the right.
Here goes nothing. Or . . . everything.
“Blackjack,” I announce with an artificial smile when I turn over Keith’s second card.
Welp, there are two cards that need marking. Scanning the table, I find a few more.
My heart slingshots into my throat.
As I collect the cards and stack them in the discard rack, I roll the appropriate ring on them like I practiced for hours on end over the last few days.
I do it so fast I could almost pretend it never happened.
Years of working at Oak Winds have made me good with my hands.
I should try close-up magic for my next career.
The one I’ll have plenty of time to train for in prison.
Because as of right now, I’m officially a party to a crime. Yet nothing around me has changed.
Odd. I expected streamers or a confetti canon. Or you know, a SWAT team to charge into the casino and wrestle me to the floor.
I mark eight more cards on the next deal. So far, so good.
Someone should tell that to my stomach, though. My indigestion can no longer be blamed on the smoothie. Why did I put beets in it? Beet burps are the worst.
My cheeks warm and pulse spikes, but I keep going. Since my table is almost full, I’m able to mark about half of the high-value cards in the shoe within twenty minutes. I’ve only got two decks tonight, so it shouldn’t take long at this rate.
When the cocktail of panic and guilt pokes through my resolve, I bring forth the memory of Kenzie’s picture for a quick reminder of why I’m breaking the law.
Silas said I’d get directions on where to pick her up at the end of my shift if I did what I was told.
So far, the card marking hasn’t drawn notice, as far as I can tell.
The floorman and undercover security guards aren’t hovering the way they do when they’re getting suspicious of a cheater.
Can’t be sure of the camera surveillance crew, but the vibe here on the floor is perfectly normal.
After the next hand, I pause to shuffle the cards since the dealing shoe is almost empty. I have Keith cut the deck, then reload the shoe and give the signal to the man sipping a beer about ten feet from my table.
Well, I assume that’s him since he’s leaning against a bank of slot machines, which matches Silas’ instructions.
Being a good little cheater, I roll my shoulders twice, then crick my neck from side to side as if easing an ache in my upper back.
Not a problem, considering every muscle in my body has been tense since Kenzie was taken a week ago.
Silas didn’t tell me how many people were involved in this scam. For all I know, my table is full of those kidnapping mother-truckers. Except Keith, of course. He’s keeping me tethered—a familiar face in the sea of despair.
The last open chair at my table is filled as a man in his early twenties joins the game. This must be one of the members of the cheating ring. He looks dangerous. Dirty.
For clarity, I’m not referring to him having dirty dimples. I’m talking about his filthy soul.
“Is this a lucky table?” he asks in an icy tone.
Yep. That’s him.
Despite wanting to wave over security to restrain him, I offer one of my patented cordial smiles. Under protest, I welcome him to the game.
In the back of my mind, I can’t help but wonder if this is one of the men who hurt Kenzie. Does he know where she is? How could I compel him to tell me?
For the umpteenth time, I contemplate calling the cops for help.
And like all the other times I’ve had this thought, I push it away because of what they promised they’d do to her if I did. They’ve been very clear that they’re watching my every move—both in and out of the casino.
I can’t risk it with Kenzie’s life on the line. And mine too.
After a few deals, the newcomer increases his bets.
Nothing dramatic at first. Slowly, as his success continues, he gets bolder.
He wins more and loses less often. If he keeps going at this rate, he’ll definitely draw the attention of the surveillance team.
It’s possible they’ll think he’s counting cards, which isn’t illegal, but it’s enough to get him backed off the table.
As if he’s reading my thoughts, he stops suddenly. Standing, he slides his rather impressive stack of chips out of the betting circle.
“I’m gonna quit while I’m ahead,” he announces. “Cash me out, please.”
I pull his chips to the center, stack and count them like normal, and pass him the larger-value chips he can take to the cashier’s cage.
He’s only up about eight grand. While it’ll get him out of the casino without scrutiny, it’s not enough to make this scam worth it.
Someone please tell me my friend’s life and my freedom are worth more than eight thousand dollars. I have more than that in my savings account. I’d have gladly paid it for Kenzie’s safe return. I offered it to Silas so many times.
Not five minutes later, my break time rolls around, and the floating dealer takes over my table. As soon as I’m off the casino floor, I race to the bathroom and empty the contents of my stomach into the first available toilet.
The tears rolling down my cheeks aren’t only from the violent heaving. I feel dirty and somehow violated. There’s no way I’ll ever be able to scrub my soul clean from what I’ve done.
Although it may seem like a victimless crime on the surface, it isn’t. Not even close.
Sure, the house has the advantage and will always make more than they lose.
As I’ve come to learn from working here, the indigenous people use the revenue from casinos to better their society and provide essential services.
Thus, I’m helping Silas and his cronies take money from their mouths, quite literally.
Plus, by caving to his demands, I’m empowering him to continue doing this to more people at other casinos. I’m under no illusion that he’ll stop with me. I’d imagine this is only the beginning.
And I’m part of it.
So no. Nothing about this is victimless.
Guilt, shame, and remorse pound the inside of my skull with the heft of a sledgehammer. The throbbing pain nearly incapacitates me.
Kenzie, Kenzie, Kenzie.
I need to remember who I’m doing this for. The poor thing is suffering far more than me. All because I trusted the wrong man. Again.
Once I’ve gathered my composure, I head to the locker room to check my phone.
As expected, there’s a message from the dimple-having piece of monkey scat whom I’ll be murdering at my first opportunity.
As soon as I learn how to fire a gun or fight. Then again, there’s always poison. Which I also know nothing about.
Silas:
Did I ever tell you how perfect you are, my sweet girl?
Gross. So dang gross. I’m not his sweet anything. I can’t believe I used to sleep with him. I want to be sick all over again.
Through the haze of moisture obscuring my vision, I type out my reply. As he instructed, I’m careful to avoid including anything incriminating in the text.
Me:
Where am I meeting you after my shift?
Silas:
I can’t see you tonight. Rain check.
My breath comes fast and choppy.
No, no, no.
This cannot be happening.
He said I would get her tonight after work. That was the deal. He was supposed to give me the location where she’d be dropped. Alive. Tonight. Not tomorrow. No rain checks.
I did my part.
Me:
You promised I’d see you tonight.
Silas:
Things change, sweet girl. We’ll talk later. You better get back to work so you don’t get in trouble.
Me:
I really need to see you tonight.
Silas:
Go back to work, Lila.
Son of a curse word. Turns out, I’m not getting my friend back tonight.
Silas better count his days. Him and his dimples.
I’m rapidly changing my stance on goring. If ever there was someone who deserved a good horn to the rectum, it’s him.