Page 62 of Take Me, Sir

“I think we need a new deck,” the quiet guy announced.

“I say when we change decks,” Stanley said flatly. “If you've got a problem with how I run a game in my own house, then maybe you should cash out and get the hell off my property.”

One of the goons behind the quiet guy took a step forward, and immediately, the room was thick with tension. Two of Stanley's guys came forward, all bulging muscles and thick, meaty hands. Panic tried to claw its way up my throat. If something happened to Maverick, I'd never get Anthony back.

“I'm fine with switching decks,” I blurted out. Stanley turned to glare at me, but I forced myself to continue, “If it gets him to shut up and play, I don't see why it's an issue.”

Everyone was looking at me now, but I kept my eyes on Maverick. No one was supposed to know we were working together, which meant we had to play this carefully. If it looked like he was giving in to me, then the others could get suspicious. But if he refused, things could get ugly with the quiet guy.

“Okay,” Stanley said after several excruciating seconds. “I got a couple new decks I've been wanting to use. One-of-a-kind designs so nobody can try nothing fancy.”

Almost nobody.

“Works for me,” I said. “I have nothing to hide.”

The quiet guy scowled but leaned back in his chair.

“Fuck, man, let's just get this going.” The Puerto Rican sounded annoyed. “If I'd wanted to sit around all night listening to some mamaos, I'd have hired a couple whores, so I'd at least get my dick sucked.” He leered at me. “Unless you're going to do that for me, tipa.”

I bit back a smart retort and instead spoke to the table in general, “Let's get this new deck going. I have more money to win.”

Stanley held out his hand, and one of his thugs handed him a deck of cards. The dealer took it and started to shuffle. I let myself close my eyes for a moment to try to refocus my thoughts. I was getting tired, but I knew better than to let anyone see it. I had a job to do, and I intended to see it through.

I opened my eyes and watched the first two cards dealt out. Before the third one had time to hit the table, people outside the room started yelling. I froze, a thousand possibilities rushing through my mind, each one worse than the last.

A business rival had decided to take Stanley and his entire operation out.

One of the other players had called in reinforcements.

Zombies were attacking.

Then I realized I could make out the words people were yelling and knew it was so much worse.

The police were here...and I'd just killed my nephew.

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