Page 79 of His Last Shot
Which is why I’m here early at the bar, shooting around, getting in some practice on the table that will be the center showcase of the tournament.
Rachel isn’t here yet. She had a checkup at her doctor’s this afternoon. So it’s just me, the music, and … Dexter, apparently.
Because here he comes, approaching me as I lean over the table, ready to take my next shot. With shoulders back and head held high, arms swaying with eachstep, he appears to be on a mission. His eyes, intense and unwavering, lock on me. I abandon the shot I had in my sights and stand, leaning my weight on my pool cue, the table separating us.
“Dex. What can I do for you?”
“It’s Dexter,” he replies through gritted teeth. I grin. “Actually, yes. There is something I need you to do for me.”
Dear Lord. A favor? He can’t be serious.
“I’m pretty sure I’m doing a lot for you as of late. Loving your niece being at the top of that list.”
God, I love throwing that jab out there and reminding him he no longer controls her.
He clicks his tongue. “It’s true. I’ve never seen her happier.”
“You’re welcome.” I lean down and take the shot that was ready and waiting for me. The three ball careens along the green felt, but Dexter’s meaty paw stops it.
“I need you to throw the final match tomorrow,” he deadpans. As if he said a statement so mundane, instead of something that is entirely out of the realm of possibility for me.
Standing abruptly, I huff out a laugh. “You can’t be serious?”
“I’m very serious.”
“And let me guess. If our team loses, you get a nice hefty payout, am I right?”
“I always knew you were smart.”
I grab the blue cube of chalk and rub it over the tip of my cue, not sparing him a glance as I examine the table. “Absolutely not.”
He doesn’t take my dismissal of his plan as his cue to leave. He continues to stand and watch me play as patrons wander into the bar, oblivious to our standoff.
“I don’t think you understand. I’m not asking.”
“No, I don’t thinkyouunderstand.” I round the table to get closer to him. “I have never lost a match on purpose in my life, and I don’t plan on starting now. What happened, Dex? Short on funds, so you need people to bet on me, then when I lose on purpose, your purse becomes heavier? Not happening. I willnot rig this match for you. Your poor and shady bookkeeping isn’t my concern. Find a new lackey to do your bidding because you’re barking up the wrong tree. Maybe Drew is available.”
“I don’t like to call it rigged. It’s more of striking a balance,” he taunts.
I wave my hand at him dismissively. “Call it whatever you want. Keep me out of it.”
He’s silent for a few beats as I continue to shoot. He won’t go, his gaze never leaving me, full of tension, analyzing. He has more blows to hit me with; I know it.
Within a single beat, he does. “Now, now, Johnny. Shutting me out isn’t in youroryour family’s best interest.”
This grabs my attention. My back goes ramrod straight as the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. The anger builds. I throw my cue on the table, storm toward him, and stand over this puny excuse of a man. “What did you just say? Are you threatening my family?” My blood is boiling, hot as lava.
“Throw the match, and your family will be just fine. If you choose not to”—he shrugs—“well, you won’t want to know what happens.”
I see red.
With little effort, I grab onto his suit lapel, pick him up, and slam him onto the table. As his back hits the rails, a loud thud echoes throughout the bar, catching the attention of the handful of people that are here. Their yelps of surprise fill the bar. Leaning over him, my face inches from his, I issue my warning. “Stay. Away. From. My. Family.” The words come out full of venom. Spit flies out with each word, coating his face.
He laughs. Actually laughs. “The choice is yours,” he taunts.
Rage is pulsing through my head, beating in my ears. All of my focus is on Dexter, which is why I don’t hear her.
“JOHNNY!” Her voice, shrill, raw, and urgent, slices through the anger clouding my mind, snapping me back to reality. She’s running toward me, her face a mask of terror, eyes wide with fear, and hair flying behind her.
