“Registered to an Amelia Jane Hawthorne,” Jacob said.
“Hawthorne?” John reared back. “That’s the last name of that kid who stole a hundred grand from me.”
“Probably just a coincidence,” I mused, hoping to put some distance between his assumption and her identity.
John wagged a finger at the computer screen. “Look her up. None of the fancy shit. Just Google her. Prove me right.”
Dammit. I hated when he said that. It meant he wasn’t letting this go no matter what.
Amelia was fucked.
I typed her name into the search engine and hit enter, hoping a plan would appear faster than the search results. In my heart of hearts, I knew this day would come. The day when I’d have to decide to cut my losses.
I just didn’t expect today to be that day.
Unfortunately, Amelia was more striking on paper than she was to most people in person.
Dozens of articles about her as an adolescent mathlete flooded the screen, only topped by her presence as a professor at Alcott University.
John touched the screen again as he pointed at her faculty photo. “That’s her.”
“She’s probably just blowing off steam after the school year.”
John glowered, staring at Amelia’s smiling photo like she was public enemy number one. “People who are ‘just blowing off steam’ don’t give fake names.” He grabbed the desktop inkjet printer and, with a grunt, threw it across the room. It smashed against the wall and fell in a torrent of plastic parts.
I didn’t even flinch. I mean, it was a shitty printer. I had wanted to throw it at the wall on more than one occasion. Much like upgrading the casino, Valentine couldn’t be bothered to spring for a bottom-of-the-line laser printer.
This was par for the course with him. He was an emotionless businessman. A slick charmer. A calculated crime lord. But when he thought someone had wronged him, his truly dark side came out to play.
“She’s been here every damn night, taking my money just like her—her brother? Cousin?”
Twin,but I didn’t correct him.
He braced his hands on the edge of the desk, seething as he stared at Amelia, who had just won five grand. “Math professor . . . She’s a card shark.”
Card counter. Not a shark.
She didn’t need to sneak cards up her sleeve when she had an eidetic memory at her disposal.
“It’s not like Alcott is some school for savants. It’s a college rich kids go to when they can’t buy their way into the Ivys.”
John looked at me with a gaze so dark the devil himself would have shuddered. “Ever since those MIT kids did what they did, everyone thinks they can take a piece of us. And she’s even worse. She’s robbing me so the other Hawthorne can pay me.” John pushed away from the desk. “Get rid of her.” He paused at the door. “In a way that means she won’t be back. You knowhow I like it when you get creative. Make an example of her. And, since you’ll have your hands full tonight, I’ll send someone else to deal with the boy.”
Ice raced through my veins. “He has thirty hours left to pay up.”
“I’ve grown tired of these games. We’ll call the money I lost to those kids the cost of doing business. But their deaths will be a marketing investment.” He grinned. “I’ve gotten soft. It’ll be a nice way to remind everyone how we do things around here.” His eyes glossed over with the kind of deadness that only came from creating hell on earth. “Don’t disappoint me, Jude.”
12
AMELIA
Thursday, May 22 | 9:15 p.m.
Seventeen on the table. Running count is plus four.
“Hit,” I said with the cool confidence of someone who was about to walk out of the casino with my brother’s freedom.
The dealer eyed me with suspicion as the pit boss circled behind me.
