Page 49 of Bozo

I flip over my queens, revealing my set, and I conceal my smile as I watch the anger flash in his eyes. He knows he’s beaten. There’s no way in hell that he can win.

The turn and river come out blank, and just like that I know that I’ve made an enemy out of the Frenchman.

As the dealer pushes the massive pot toward me, I catch Étienne muttering under his breath in French. I’m not fluent in the language, but I know a little to get me by.

I can't make out all of what Étienne is saying, but I catch a few words. "Revenant" and "vengeance" stand out among the muttered French. My suspicions are confirmed—these men are definitely part of the organization I'm here to investigate.

As I stack my newly won chips, I feel the weight of Étienne's glare on me. The tension at the table has shifted. What was once a high-stakes game now feels like something far more dangerous. But Étienne would be stupid to try and start shit here. There are too many unknowns—for him at least. He’d never make it out of the building alive.

"Perhaps we should take a break," Marcel suggests, his voice tight. "Get some fresh air."

Étienne nods curtly, pushing back from the table. As he stands, I notice a flash of metal at his waist—a gun, concealed but not quite hidden enough.

"Good idea," I say casually, standing as well. "I could use a smoke."

As we file out onto the balcony overlooking the Spanish coastline, I catch Lorcan's eye. He nods almost imperceptibly, understanding the silent message. Things are about to get interesting.

The cool night air hits my face as I step outside; a welcome relief from the stuffy poker room. Étienne and Marcel huddle in a corner, speaking in rapid French. I light a cigarette, straining to hear their conversation while pretending to admire the view.

Suddenly, Étienne turns to me, his eyes cold. "You play well," he says, his voice laced with barely concealed anger.

I feel a hand land on my shoulder. “You should have done your homework,” Jer says to Étienne. “You’d have known that the boy here is the best to have ever played the game.”

Étienne’s face contorts in disgust. “Lucky,” he mutters. “Didn’t realize that you know the…” he pauses, his gaze moving over me. “Kid. You didn’t introduce us.”

Jer nods. “I didn’t. My mistake. Étienne, meet Bozo. He’s a member of the Fury Vipers motorcycle club. Bozo, meet Étienne Moreau and his brother, Marcel Moreau, members of The Revenant.”

I keep my face impassive at Jer's introduction, but inwardly, I'm reeling. He's just confirmed what I suspected about Étienne and Marcel's affiliation. Jer was quick to uncover everything this evening. Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. Jer always seems to know everything.

Étienne's eyes narrow, his hand twitching slightly toward his concealed weapon. "Fury Vipers," he spits out the words like they're poison. "I've heard of you. Causing trouble all over America and Ireland. Where next?"

I shrug, taking a long drag of my cigarette. "Wherever we like" I say coolly. "As for us causing trouble, I’d say that was you. From what I’ve heard, you’re not exactly quiet about your business."

Marcel steps forward, his stance aggressive. "You have no idea what kind of business we're in," he growls.

Jer chuckles, the sound low and menacing. "Oh, I think we have a pretty good idea. The Revenant's been making quite a name for itself lately. Bit sloppy though, if you ask me."

Marcel's face flushes with anger. "Sloppy?" he hisses. "We've taken over half of central Europe in less than a year. Our leader?—"

"Marcel," Étienne cuts him off sharply. "Enough."

But it's too late. Marcel's outburst has confirmed what we came here to find out. The Revenant is indeed behind the recent wave of violence and territory grabs, not to mention the new influx of trafficking.

“Mr. Moreau,” I hear a woman say from behind me, “your car is waiting.”

Étienne glares at me as he walks back inside. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you gentlemen again.”

I watch as Étienne and Marcel disappear back into the casino, their backs rigid with tension. The woman who called for them follows close behind, her heels clicking on the marble floor.

"Well, that was interesting," Jer says, lighting up a cigar. "Seems our French friends are a bit touchy about their new enterprise."

I nod, my mind racing. "You and they confirmed what I had suspected, that they are part of the organization. The Revenant is behind the recent power grabs in Europe. But who's their leader? Marcel was about to say something before Étienne shut him up."

Jer takes a long drag on his cigar, his eyes scanning the coastline. "That is the million-dollar question. Whoever's running The Revenant is smart, keeping themselves hidden. But everyone slips up eventually."

I feel a presence behind me and turn to see Lorcan approaching, his face grim. "Cowboy and Tank are tailing the Moreau brothers," he says in a low voice. "We should head back inside, keep up appearances."

As we re-enter the casino, I can't shake the feeling that we've stumbled into something much bigger than we anticipated. The Revenant isn't just another criminal organization; they're a force to be reckoned with, and they're not afraid to show it.

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