SHANK (A Wilde Crime Series)

by kazimer, j. a.

  “Shouldn’t you be working?” I asked, my face a mask of intimidation.

  She stuck out her tongue. A silver stud blinked in the light. “I knew it. You’re up to something.”

  “Leave it alone, sis,” Mickey said, trying to drag her from the room.

  “I want in.” She dug her heels in. “Whatever it is, I can help.”

  “No,” I said, voice hard. I refused to get her involved. The risk was too great. We could end up in jail, and Oscar still posed a threat, if he was after the money too.

  “Don’t be stupid.” She glared at me.

  Stupid? I was trying to protect her and she called me stupid. One of these days, she was going to push me too far, and I wouldn’t be responsible for my actions. Pictures of washing her mouth out with soap came to mind, and I smiled.

  “Wait, Ian.” Drew grinned, holding up his hand. “We could use her in Atlantic City. An extra player will make it easier. Besides, she’ll pretty us up some.”

  “I’m plenty pretty,” I joked, and the rest of the crew shook their heads. Drew had a point. The two of us, no matter how well we cleaned up, looked like thugs. It was written in our DNA, from the tattoos covering my arms to Drew’s shifty gaze. We stood out in a crowd, unless it was a crowd of degenerates.

  Andy added, “Frankie’s a pro. Take her with you. What’s the harm?”

  I could think of a few. Namely, not only would I have to worry about Drew, but I’d also have to watch for sharks circling Frankie. She was trouble, the type of danger I just didn’t need. “Please.” Her eyes projected sweetness, and her voice went soft and warm. Mickey put a comforting hand on her shoulder and glared at me. Andy and Drew followed suit. I might have felt like an ass had I not known her better.

  Neil stood, clapping his hands. “Bravo. Why ever did you quit acting?”

  “I grew tired of the constant praise and adoration of my multitude of fans.” With an unrepentant smile, she motioned around the room. “Besides how could I give all this up?”

  “If only she was blonde we’d have found our Scarlet.” Neil drummed a finger against his chin. I choked on my coffee, spewing brownish liquid down my shirt. “No fucking way.” She might be a pain in the ass, but she wasn’t anything like Bev. Bev was a cold, calculating bitch whereas Frankie was all attitude and passion.

  “Would someone tell me what’s going on?” She stomped her foot in frustration. I flashed back to when she was ten, and she wanted Mickey to take her ice-skating. She’d worn a similar expression. Spoiled brat.

  Against my better judgment, I said, “How’d you like to take a trip to Atlantic City?”

  Chapter 10

  The neon glow of Atlantic City came into focus as we flew along Absecon Boulevard. The boardwalk promised fun, fantasy, and riches beyond compare. It was a whimsical oasis for the whole family. Mom and Dad could gamble away the twins’ college fund while the kids smoked weed with tattooed teens in baggy pants.

  Finding a high stakes game wouldn’t be hard, but leaving with someone else’s cash might be. No one liked to lose, and high rollers take the term poor loser to another level. Stretching my cramped legs, I fought for a comfortable position in Drew’s Mustang, but it was no use. I wouldn’t find peace until we had fifty grand and Frankie was back home, safely tucked away. She sat in the backseat, laughing and joking as we sped along the strip. Her contagious enthusiasm had me on edge. I was a fucking idiot. Each time she opened her mouth I was reminded of that fact.

  Why had I agreed to bring her? I slid a glance at her through the side mirror. Her face was alight with excitement, eyes fixated on the swirl of multicolored lights. Like a crystal ball the grimy mirror foretold of disaster.

  “The Plaza?” Drew nodded to a passing casino. I took stock. There were people everywhere—hookers, old ladies, and drag queens lined the walkways. Bums begged quarters from passing tourists, and teenagers with steel studs through various orifices chain-smoked in front of the billion dollar casinos. Yep, the Plaza would suit our needs perfectly. It had easy access to and from the boardwalk, not to mention ‘the loosest slots in town’ as a sign overhead boasted.

  “Pull in.” I pointed to the parking garage.

  Tires squealing Drew did as I asked. My head hit the side window and Drew grinned. “Sorry.” Funny, he didn’t look sorry, more amused than anything.

  “Do the words low profile mean anything to you?” I shook my head and grabbed my bag from the trunk once we’d safely come to a stop. “Wait here.” I motioned to the front door of the hotel. Drew nodded, but Frankie looked disappointed.

  “Ian?” Her blue-flame colored eyes held mine, and her lower lips actually trembled. And the Academy award goes to…. “Fine, come on. But keep your mouth shut,” I ordered, but it lacked any real bite. She grinned and fell into step next to me.

  “I’ll just wait here with the car.” Drew lit a cigarette, a cloud blue smoke curled from the end. I frowned. How much trouble could he get into in the five minutes it would take to get a room? A lot. I gestured to him. “Why don’t you help me carry the bags in?” He agreed with a casual shrug and crushed his cigarette under his boot heel.

  We walked through the glitzy lobby to the concierge desk. I explained our needs and slipped the concierge a thousand dollars. In turn, he flagged down a bellhop and slipped the cash into his pocket like a pro. “Enjoy your stay, Mr. Smith,” he said with a leering grin aimed at Frankie.

  “Smith?” Frankie smiled as we walked away. “That’s original.”

  “It was between Smith or Jones.” I grinned. “I figured I looked more like a Smith kind of guy.”

  Ten minutes later, the bellhop ushered us into the penthouse suite. The main room had a twenty-foot cathedral ceiling, a crystal chandelier, and gold inlayed tile. Two bedrooms stood off to the side, there doorways sporting images of cherubs, and what I assumed was Lady Luck, or maybe a succubus. At times it’s hard to tell the difference. A fruit basket and champagne bottle sat on the counter. Everything was beautiful and expensive, surroundings fit for a king, but we’d make do. Frankie stood underneath the chandelier. “This place is amazing.” Like a married man in a strip club, her eyes widened as she took stock.

  I tipped the bellhop and closed the door before answering, “If we want to play with the big boys we have to convince them we are big boys.”

  Drew stepped out of the smaller of the two bedrooms. A wide grin split his face. “Only two bedrooms…” He rubbed his chin as if considering the dilemma, eyes slowly scanning the curves of Frankie’s body.

  I snapped my fingers to get his attention. “We won’t be making much use of either of them.” I checked my watch. “Drew, I want you to scope out the casino. Find us an in.”

  He nodded, all teasing aside. “What are you going to do?”

  I nodded toward Frankie. “I’m going to peddle our best asset.” The asset under discussion was bent over, stroking the thousand-dollar carpeting with envy.

  Drew grinned. “If she only knew.”

  “Oh, she knows.” I pulled a couple of bills from my wallet and handed him half of our stake. “Find a game and give me a call on my cell.” He nodded, looking from the cash to Frankie’s denim-clad ass. I tapped him on the head, adding, “Don’t fuck this up. No distractions, we play to win and get the hell out.”

  “Right.” He smirked. “No distractions. Play to win.”

  “Good luck.” I shook his hand, noticing a tremor.

  “Who needs luck?” Brimming with chemically induced confidence he didn’t wait for an answer, but headed for the door. He captured Frankie from behind and spun her around. “A kiss for luck,” he said, crushing her mouth to his. He let her go, winked at me, and walked out the door, whistling.

  “What was that about?” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

  I shrugged, not having an answer. That was just Drew. She knew it as well as I did. I waved to her jeans and sweater. “After you change we’ll head down.”

  She nodded, movi
ng to the bathroom off the main bedroom. The bathtub equaled the size of my apartment. Gold fixtures gleamed and tiny bottles of complimentary soaps and shampoos stood in line ready to do battle against dirt and oil.

  “Remember the game plan,” I said as I followed her to the bathroom. “Join a table; lose a few hands and flirt like crazy. Grab as much attention as you can, but be careful, these guys won’t be blinded long.”

  “I know.” She pushed me out of the room and shut the door in my face. “It’s going to be fine, Ian. I can handle myself, you don’t have to worry.”

  “It’s not you I’m worried about.”

  The rushing sound of water drowned out her reply. I sat on the bed, going over the plan in my head. Was I missing something? Had I overlooked some angle that would cost us? When the game was in play I was untouchable, focused on winning and that’s it, but not this time. Too much was at stake, like Mickey’s life for starters. I traded my Levi’s for a pair of Armani slacks and tossed my flannel shirt on the bed. I fumbled with a dark blue tie, and after a few minutes of struggle, I threw it across the room. This would have to do.

  Ten minutes later the bathroom door opened, revealing the backlit silhouette of Frankie in a tight black dress made out of one of those marvel of science materials that clung to all the right places. The dress barely reached the middle of her thighs and rose with her every breath. A wide v-cut and miracle bra displayed her c-cup breasts, shocking the shit out of me. She was stacked, something that until this moment, had escaped my notice. Fuck, when had she grown into a woman? Don’t think about it. I took one last peek at her breasts before gaining control over my libido.

  “What do you think?” She twirled in front of me.

  “You’ll do.” I tried to keep my voice even, heartbeat calm. Damn, she was gorgeous. The thought of black lace panties flew through my mind, and my mouth went dry.

  She held out a Ruby choker. “Do me…up?”

  Dropping the choker into my sweaty palm, she turned around and lifted her hair from the nape of her neck. Soft pale skin tempted me as I drew the choker in place. I trailed a shaky finger along the back of her neck. She shivered. My body tightened with lust and my breathing turned harsh. On the third try, the tiny metal lock snapped in place, and I stepped away. What the fuck was wrong with me?

  “Ready?” I asked, flipping through my mental rolodex of reasons why Frankie was off limits. Best friend’s sister. A damn good employee. The one woman I trusted. She deserved better.

  “Let me grab my bag.” She reached past me, her hand brushing my arm. I flinched and she smiled. “Something wrong?”

  “You’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you?” I laughed. Relief replaced lust. She was playing me to prove she could handle herself.

  She batted mascara thickened lashes. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “Don’t fuck with me.” I leaned in, using my size to intimidate her. Not that it worked. “I’m out of your league and old enough to know better.”

  “Oh, I love a challenge,” she gushed with fake sincerity.

  “Good.” I tugged on a red curl draped across her shoulder. “Here’s one for you, win me enough money to save your sorry brother’s ass.”

  Her face sobered. “Let’s go break the bank.”

  Chapter 11

  The noisy casino floor, crowded with tourists, reminded me of the red light district. Everyone looking to score. Desperation hung in the air like the stench of boiling potatoes in a Hell’s Kitchen tenement. I maneuvered Frankie past the suckers’ nickel and dime games and slot machine jungles, all the while keeping an eye out for Drew. Machines yelped, spitting out quarters like street corner whores.

  At the back of the casino a small alcove set off from the rest of the games beckoned. All but screaming: High rollers only. A bald bouncer in an overpriced suit guarded the inner sanctum. His shoulders were the width of a linebacker and his smile just as unfriendly. As hot as Frankie looked in her black, clingy dress, the bulge in his sport coat had nothing to do with her appearance. Glock, I guessed. We’d found the right place. Now we needed a way in.

  Frankie took the lead. “What’s the buy-in?”

  “More than you got, baby-doll.” The bouncer grinned down at her. She bit her lip and whispered something in his ear. His eyes widened, and she nodded. I stood back, watching her work. She really was an incredible actress. “Show him the money,” she said to me a few seconds later.

  I pulled the cash from my pocket. It looked a lot more impressive than it was, fortified with paper to increase the bulk. I flashed it, and quickly tucked it away before he took a closer look.

  “Okay.” He stepped to the side to let us in, but before we entered, he put a restraining hand on Frankie’s arm. “No cell phones.”

  “Okay.” She slipped a hand into her bag and handed her phone over. I guessed this was the reason why Drew hadn’t called. The bouncer turned to me, his lips curving into a frown as his hand hovering over his gun. “No weapons. No trouble.”

  “Fair enough.” I nodded, removing the .38 from the holster at the small of my back. “I’m not the one you have to worry about though.” I motioned to Frankie. “Ten bucks says she cleans the place out.”

  “You’re on,” he said, taking the .38 from my hand and slipping it into his pocket. I took Frankie’s hand, pushing through the heavy door and into the world of wealth, privilege, and ten thousand dollar poker chips. Like a bad western all heads swiveled Frankie’s way. It wasn’t just the clothes, hair, and makeup. She had an aura of power and sex that brought lesser men to their knees. But not me, I was immune. Who was I kidding? A few more minutes in the suite and I would have been on my knees begging. Shaking my head, I followed a few steps behind her. Close enough for the sharks to know she wasn’t fresh meat.

  The room was full of men in tuxedos smoking Cuban cigars while girls a quarter of their age hung on their every word. Diamonds could make up for a lot, and by the amount of bling in the room, there was much to be forgiven. I spotted Drew toward the back of the room. He was working a table with six players. The rainbow colored chips in front of him relaxed me. Our eyes caught, and I turned away to scan the room for Frankie.

  She walked through the crowd as if she didn’t have a clue. It took her three minutes to zero in on her mark, a table in the dead center. There were five players, all middle-aged men and one open seat. Over a million dollars in chips sat at the table. It was a hustler’s dream. “Mind if I join you?” Frankie leaned in, giving the players a glimpse of cleavage.

  An overweight, bald man wheezed out a hello. “Take a seat, sweetie, but I have to warn you. The stakes are pretty high.”

  She fluffed her hair. “That’s okay. It’s my boyfriend’s money, and he’s got a lot of it.” The men laughed. She sat down and removed a couple thousand from her bag.

  A waiter came over. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Yes, please. I’ll have a glass of champagne. The good stuff,” she added with a flirtatious grin. “Charge it to the penthouse.”

  Hearing that, the table immediately accepted her into the fold. Now it was my turn. I took an empty seat at a table two away from Frankie. Three men all dressed in dark blue business suits, played hand after hand without comment. I pulled out a few thousand and got down to business. Poker, often called a game of luck, took much more. To win you had to know the game inside and out, but more importantly, you had to know your opponent. I don’t play the cards I’m dealt but the guy sitting across the table.

  Everyone had a tell. Some people are adept at covering them while others shine like diamonds strung around a mistress’s neck. The tapping of a foot, the pulse of a vein, or the dilation of a pupil gave you away. Bluffing was an art, and you were born with the ability to lie, or you picked another game. Even more vital was the ability to recognize a lie and have the balls to call it.

  “All in,” I said on a stone cold bluff. My face gave nothing away. The other players groaned, tossing in their hands, and I r
aked in another pot. Apparently my opponents hadn’t read the Wilde Guide to Poker. Checking Drew’s chip lead, I smiled. He was doing well, but not good enough to get us killed. Frankie, one the other hand, had a huge stack of chips in front of her. Even more amazing the other players at her table didn’t seem to mind. I knew she was good. Hell, she beat me regularly, but I’d never seen anything like this. Maybe bringing her wasn’t such a lousy idea after all.

  I glanced at my watch and stifled a yawn. 2:00 a.m. We’d been playing for six hours straight. My cards started to blur and a losing streak was imminent. Drew looked to be in the same shape, switching from Jack Daniels to coffee. I played a few more hands and cashed out. Rule number four in the Wilde poker guide: Know when to get the fuck out. I caught Drew’s eye and gestured to the door. He nodded. I moved to stand behind Frankie, and like a lover, leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Call it a night.”

  She gave a small nod. “Well, gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure. But I just got an offer I can’t refuse.” The men groaned, calling out regretful goodbyes. I helped her to her feet as she raked the large pile of chips into her bag. We left, alive and a few grand richer.

  I retrieved my gun and her cell phone from the bouncer while Frankie flashed him her winnings. She said, “Looks like you owe Ian ten bucks.”

  His eyes drifted over her body. “Care to go double or nothing?”

  “No.” I wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

  “Can’t say I blame you, brother.” The bouncer smirked. “Girls like that usually cost money, not make it.” Frankie rolled her eyes and we walked away.

  “Some night,” she said as we headed for the elevator.

  “Unbelievable.” I skirted a drunken couple. “You could probably win the whole five hundred.”

  She beamed. “You didn’t do too badly either.” From the look of our combined winnings, we were close to our goal. She tossed her hair back. “I’m kind of wired. What’d you say we grab a drink?”