“Hell no!” he says, giving me a mischievous look. “I’m trying to get you into the Christmas spirit.”
“Get me into the fucking casino Kit. I don’t give a shit about holiday spirit.”
“Okay, Santa. No need to be a grinch.” He turns to me with a wide grin. “Let’s see if these reindeer can fly.”
39
JADE
So far, so good.
With nimble fingers, I hit the spin button on the slot machine again, while keeping a running tally in my mind. The loud chaos of the casino fades into the background, replaced by the familiar symphony of numbers and probabilities.
There’s a sweet spot at the thirty-spin mark. The win could come any time after that. Every cute character, every symbol dropping onto the screen is a cryptic dance step in a secret choreography towards the win.
The machine is churning out an algorithm that only I can perceive, a combination of number sequences that I’ve learned to decode over countless nights of solitary practice. A long sequence of codes will be running through my brain like a stock market ticker tape before I smash the button.
I’ve practiced and studied the machine’s code long enough to know when the sequence will line up to pay out. With my brain, electronic accessories are unnecessary. No additional devices, no high-tech gadgetry, just the raw computing power of my mind, honed to a keen edge through relentless mental practice.
I fight the urge to position my hand above the payout button in anticipation since any deviation from casual gambling behavior could raise unwanted questions. Slot machine players are typically impulsive and erratic, their actions directed by luck, not deep contemplation. If anyone were to be watching, I can’t appear to be concentrating too hard. My churning mind, impossibly flooded with numbers, must remain my secret.
A burst of noise draws my eyes. A tall, stunningly handsome man in a black tuxedo is striding rapidly across the casino floor, followed by a uniformed security team. He’s dark-haired and tanned with distinct Italian features, his face drawn tight in a mask of deep anger.
He looks absolutely livid.
And dangerous as hell.
“Spread out and watch the crowd!” he yells to his men. “I’ll be damned if I let someone scam my casino on Christmas Eve.”
The man’s booming command to his uniformed entourage is clear, he’s searching for me. His group heads straight for my corner, their focused eyes sending ripples of anxiety through me.
A swift glance in Eva’s direction reveals her perched daintily on a barstool, her long legs elegantly crossed while she stirs her pink cocktail with languid grace. When she spots the man heading my way, she quickly scoops up her drink and moves to intercept him. He crashes straight into her in his rush, causing the drink to slosh over onto the carpeted floor.
“Eva!” he calls out in surprise, stopping dead in his tracks. His hands instantly fly to her arms, steadying her in a surprisingly gentle grip. “I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice softening. “Please forgive me. What are you doing here?”
“Celebrating Christmas Eve, Gio,” she replies with a warm smile, turning her full attention on him. “What else would I be doing?”
She knows him? Who the hell is he?
She called himGio.
Gio…Giovanni…oh, shit! That man is Giovanni?
The realization hits like a bombshell, sending a shockwave of adrenaline through my veins. I’m in deep trouble now. The man the guys have continuously warned me about is standing mere feet away from me.
He’s a deadly hunter and I’m his prey.
He reaches for Eva’s hand. “A beautiful woman shouldn’t be alone on Christmas Eve,” he says. He tenderly lifts her hand to his lips and kisses it lightly before reluctantly letting it go. “Please allow me to buy you another drink.” He doesn’t take his eyes off her.
Is that a tinge of pink blush rising on her cheeks? What the hell is happening here? The tension between them crackles with an undercurrent of past history, of stories unfinished. I have a million questions for her, but there’s no time to figure it out. Behind me, there’s a loud gasp from the crowd near the back entrance.
“Ho! Ho! Ho!” A booming voice calls out near the front entrance. “Merry Christmas!” The amplified sound echoes across the crowded casino floor.
Oh my God!
I’d recognize that voice anywhere. Whirling around, I glance over my shoulder at the front entrance with dread.
The scene that greets me is both surreal and horrifying.
