“Tanner, not another word.” Jack Sievers, his best friend since kindergarten and his lawyer since he graduated law school, breezed into the interview room and plunked his briefcase on the table. “Now, what’s this supposed to be about?”
“Your client.” Frelly stabbed a pencil in Tanner’s direction. “We got a job for him. He’s uniquely qualified because he cheats at cards. That’s why we been enjoying his free consulting services for the last almost twenty years. Probation. Gotta love it.” He chuckled, a sound Tanner found really irritating.
Just then the woman he remembered from last night’s card game walked into the room. Last night she’d worn a tight, white dress, short, shimmery, and backless. Practically frontless, too. She’d sat next to him and leaned over one too many times and Tanner’s brains had scrambled a little, but nothing that affected his play. There was something about her he didn’t trust, and he’d wondered then if she was law enforcement.
Today he had his answer. Today she was wearing a suit with a white shirt buttoned high, and her dark hair was twisted up, not down. No danger his brains would scramble today.
“Hey, Darla,” he said. “Or is your name really Darla?”
“It’s Darla.” She smiled at him. “Nice to see you again, Tanner.”
“Just one question. I’ve been thinking about where you could have hidden the camera. Can you help me out?”
Darla’s smile thinned. “Keep dreaming, wiseguy.”
So she didn’t really like him after all. Well, not much of a loss. She had that body, but she didn’t have much conversation. Keep dreaming, wiseguy? Who talked like that?
Roy Frelly leaned forward again. “So here’s what we’re gonna do,” he said.
Extreme confidence, Tanner thought again. It looked like the feds planned to have their way with him.
“We want to get Big Julie Saladino,” Frelly said.
Hell, Tanner thought. And they picked me to lead the suicide squadron.
Guilio “Big Julie” Saladino was the biggest crook in New Jersey—a Mafioso with a major influence on most of the traditional Sicilian businesses—and, now that he was on an extended vacation, the richest card player in Vegas. Big Julie played only high stakes, no limit Texas Hold’em in venues where players could be assured that they’d be free of all the pesky surveillance and rules you found in the big gaming houses. That meant that Big Julie played in his suite—the penthouse suite, the five-thousand-square-foot, Polynesian-style, high-roller suite, with the hot tub and view and nothing-is-too-good-for-Mr.-Saladino room service.
Playing Big Julie would be fun, in a weird, once-in-a-lifetime way, but it was an experience Tanner was willing to sacrifice to keep all his body parts. He also had Troy to think of. His daughter, now eighteen, was leaving for college next week. She had realized long ago that the kinds of people the FBI put in her father’s path could be violent as well as bent, and she didn’t like the FBI working requirements one bit.
I’ll go down big time on this gig, Tanner thought. Just my luck.
“Big Julie’s wanted on sixteen counts of murder and extortion,” Frelly said now. “But to get Big Julie, we need somebody who can play cards and cheat. That’s you.”
No. Not this time. He didn’t want to set Big Julie up for a fall. He’d be in trouble with the Mob for the rest of his life—his guaranteed short life. Next week Troy would be at UCLA, in eight months his probation would finally be over, and he’d have a whole new life to start.
He’d wondered what that new life would look like. He hadn’t made any plans, but dying—even losing a limb—was definitely not on his personal menu of choices.
“Why don’t you just arrest Big Julie?” Jack Sievers asked. “He’s staying at the Desert Dunes. You’ve got the sixteen counts. Why does my client have to play cards with him?”
Frelly rubbed the back of head.
Distress. Tanner looked up. Frelly didn’t like that question. And suddenly Tanner knew the answer.
“There’s no charges against him,” Tanner told Jack. “I bet there’s no arrest warrants out on Big Julie at all. Right, Agent Frelly? You’re just trying to fool me into going along with you. You can’t make an extortion and murder case against Big Julie, so you want to get him on gambling charges.”
Frelly leaned his head into his hand.
Very distressed. I was right.
“And you can’t even get him on gambling without outside help,” Tanner added. “So you’re putting the squeeze on me. Not that I’m unwilling to do my patriotic duty, but