The Gambler - Raquel Belle Page 0,73

to kill you.” I give him a grin. “I’m just going to cut your fucking hand off. Cheating is stealing. And stealing has unique consequences.”

“The fuck?! Youse a fuckin’ maniac!” Tony screeches. He kicks his ankles but they’re firmly cuffed to the chair he’s in. There’s no getting away.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Mr. Milner, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Bobby has lost all his cool. I notice that he’s pissed himself and that his pants are now soaked. The acrid smell of urine fills the air.

“Fer fuck’s sake, pull yourself together, Bobby!” Tony shouts at him.

“That’s perfectly fine,” I shrug. “We call this the wet room for a reason. Cement floors are easy to clean you know. We just hose them down when we’re done here. Blood, spit, tears, piss. Wash it all away.”

“Nah, please, sir Mr. Milner, please, please. My ma is gonna flip if I show up back in Chicago without a hand,” Bobby continues his desperate pleas. Meanwhile, Tony is just looking down, avoiding my gaze. He’s started sweating, however, and one foot is tapping nervously on the ground.

I pause, surveying the two men. What I should do is kill them. Or, at the least, take a hand from each of them. I pace the floor, thinking. I actually feel my brow wrinkle and make a conscious effort to stop. If there are no consequences and word gets out that two idiots like these can rip me off and have their way in Vegas unchecked…we’ll have an influx of wise-guys doing all kinds of shit in this city in no time. Gambling is legal, but it’s a neighbor to a lot of unsavory enterprises in some peoples minds. Before you know it these mafiosos will be money laundering, running prostitution, drugs, guns and everything else they can think of in my backyard. The desert keeps everyone’s secrets. Sometimes we have to make our own laws. I notice that Tony flinches at the sound of my footsteps, and I feel a surge of power rush through me. It’s ugly business but it has to be done.

“Un-cuff his left hand.” I point to Tony.

At Tony’s left is one of the old steel counters from when this place was a kitchen. Mike and Ben don’t have to ask what to do or why. They work swiftly as a team, Mike releasing one of Tony’s hands and then roughly thrusting it up to Ben. Ben jerks on Tony’s wrist, slamming his now freed arm down on the steel countertop. Tony isn’t a total idiot. He knows what’s up and immediately starts struggling, trying to wrench his hand free. But Ben holds one of his large hands firmly on top of Tony’s, and the other at Tony’s elbow. This leaves the frantic man’s wrist firmly placed against the cold steel. Exposed.

“All set, Mr. Milner.” Mike, standing behind Tony’s chair, gives me a nod.

“Aw nah, nah, nah, ya’ crazy ass motherfucker, nah, nah, nah!” Tony is struggling, shouting at the top of his lungs now as I walk towards him. Meanwhile, Bobby has his eyes screwed shut tightly and is murmuring softly to himself. I think he might actually be reciting a prayer. Maybe I’ve inspired a religious awakening.

Standing in front of the steel counter I take the meat cleaver and line it up over Tony’s wrist, just letting the cool blade touch it for a second. Then, grasping the cleaver’s handle in both hands…here we go…I raise it up over my head and bring it down with all the force I can muster.

The crash of the cleaver against the steel is booming and Bobby, his eyes still shut, immediately starts screaming.

Tony, in shock, and unable to fathom that he still has his hand attached, has meanwhile burst into tears and is crying uncontrollably. No more tough guy here. “I’m sorry, sir, I’m sorry, sir,” he says again and again.

Ben and Mike look at me in slight confusion. I step back. I can’t explain to them that I have Lilly’s face in my head, her accusing words, her desperate questions. What would she think if she knew I’d taken a man’s hand off with a meat cleaver? Even if he was a cheater, that’s not the kind of logic Lilly would understand. I grit my teeth. God damn it.

With a grunt, I throw the meat cleaver down onto the ground. It clatters sharply. I turn my back to the men, wrestling with my desire to destroy them. And my desire to not let

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