I untie McCarter’s wrists, smooth his shirt, and straighten the covers like a hotel maid. It’ll look like he passed out. It’ll feel like a wild night he can’t quite remember, but in a week, he’ll be dead.
And in that week, Luna will expose his dirtiest secrets to the public. If the media catches the trend again, headlines will credit a secret, dark-web group they’ve nicknamed TruthDrop. Some of the media and law enforcement have caught on enough to know these leaks happen intentionally but somehow keep missing that the men always die of natural causes soon after.
Which means our plan is still effective.
I redress, gather my belongings, and wipe my fingerprints. I confirm my extraction with my sisters. We sign off.
We are never seen in public together. No one can know our connection.
As I walk down the sidewalk, a few blocks from the hotel now, my adrenaline is still high, blood pumping loudly in my ears. I need something to take the edge off and I know just the place.
Should I go to another Luciano establishment tonight? Probably not. But I’m always a little reckless after working my marks. I’ve been increasingly reckless as the gala approaches, come to think of it. My biggest target mere weeks away.
Playing cards at the underground casino at Club14 has a way of calming my nerves. Besides, I’ve never seen Enzo there.
I can’t seem to talk myself out of going. Something about the lies people tell when money’s on the table makes me feel right at home. Because no one bluffs better than a girl raised in silence and motivated by vengeance.
THREE
kismet
Hudson
Thursday Evening, Day 1
The only thing worse than the cards in my damned hand right now is my shit luck tonight—and that’s saying something. I’d be more annoyed about losing my money if I didn’t know it was lining my best friend’s pockets and would eventually find its way back to me. Technically, I’m in his employ, as well as the government’s.
If anyone from law enforcement recognized me here, they’d assume I was on a case. Heading the organized crime unit at the FBI has that effect. It’s my actual job to have a pulse on the illegal establishments of men like Enzo Luciano. That must be why I’m always in a good mood at this underground casino—I can’t fucking lose. I always have fun blowing off steam at the tables and I never go home alone. Plenty of DC’s finest women and men frequent this establishment, and most are willing to warm my bed.
I scan the room to see who piques my interest for the evening,and as if on cue, in walks the woman who’s occupied my dirty thoughts for the past year. Wild, bright red hair, legs for days, a walk like she owns the room, the floor, and the air we all breathe.
Suddenly, I’m all in again, because my luck just turned around.
The woman calls herselfJane. We both know that’s bullshit, but I don’t care. My name isn’t John, either, and she knows that, too. After the nights we’ve shared, I’d let her tell me sweet lies forever.
When we make eye contact, she smiles and heads my way.
I pick up my burner phone and shoot a quick text to Enzo, letting the fucker know he didn’t jinx me and my Jane just arrived.
My Jane? Where the fuck did that come from?
Enzo and Eva have teased me relentlessly about my obsession with this damned woman, but I enjoy letting them. Because it means I get to talk about her, think about her, dream about her.
“Hey, John. How’s the table treating you tonight?” Jane asks as she sits across from me.
All the men stop and stare. I don’t blame them. She’s a stunner, impossible to overlook. And Christ, tonight she’s wearing black, painted-on jeans, a sheer black top that allows her red-lace bra to peek through, and matching red heels that look like sin on stilts.
“I’ve been losing all night, Jane, but you always have a way of turning my luck around,” I say with a seductive smile as I look her up and down, unapologetically.
She winks at me. “Good, I was hoping you weren’t leaving just yet.”
“No chance of that now.”
We share a knowing smile while the dealer deals her in.
She’s got that edge tonight, like she often does. Jane shows up here once a month or so ready for danger. High-limit poker onlybeing the start of what she needs to let loose. I may not know her real name, what she does for a living, or a damned personal detail about her…but I can read her body like a well-loved book.
And she’s amped tonight.
