Page 75 of Dublin's Danger Dancer

“Let me get to your door,” he says as we pull up outside the casino. He opens my door, standing in front of me as if he is ready to take a bullet for me.

“Good evening, sir,” says a man in a velvet red waistcoat, waving us in.

“Good evening,” replies Liam.

I watched him get dressed, so I know that there is a gun holster on each of his legs and another pushed into his waistband hidden by his tux jacket.

The normal checks are skipped as we’re waved in.

How much has he paid to use this casino as his shooting ground, I wonder?

After evading the metal detectors, we climb the red-carpeted stairs to the huge casino floor.

Liam leans down to whisper in my ear. “Do you know that smell is?” he asks.

“Desperation,” I say. My own truth reveals itself among the gamblers.

“No,” he says laughing. “Close, it is teakwood. The casino’s pump it in. Studies show it makes people gamble more.”

My eyes scan the room. Each well-heeled older gentleman has a younger woman looking bored next to him. The wheels spin. The croupiers move chips across the green mats.

“The house always wins,” I say.

A man in a black suit with an earpiece arrives at Liam's side and whispers something to him.

“There’s a seat for us and the best craps table in the house.” he says.

I nod to Liam following him to a table in the middle, which has been cleared for us. I sit down next to him. Liam places the gun in his waistband on the small bench between the table and straightens his posture.

The dealer starts to deal us in.

I spot at least twelve hitmen circling the room in search of Uncle Freddie, but he’s not here. Liam drums his Claddagh ring on the brass bar circling the table

Liam’s phone vibrates in his pocket. My eyes scan down. The notification reads: She’s a guard. I have evidence.

My heart skips a beat. I press my nails into my palms, letting the bite of pain keep my emotions in check.

Liam’s foot taps, and his body stiffens.

Sweat begins to form around the sequins, digging into me around my armpits, his phone vibrates again. This time he pushes his hand around it to cover it, but I still see the message. It reads: come and meet her handler on your mum’s boat.

Liam stares blankly ahead. The craps dealer asks us if we want to play this game.

Liam stands and grabs me angrily by the wrist and pulls me away from the table. He whispers in my ear. “I know you saw those messages. What I do not know is if it’s true or whether Freddie is trying to trap me to take me out. Perhaps you could enlighten me?” he stares down at me, trying to read an emotion of betrayal.

“He’s trying to trap you. He knows ‌you hired all these men.” my eyes scan around the room identifying different hitmen. Some are dressed in T-shirts and denim jackets, even though the dress code is black tie for this casino.

“So the handler he has?” he sneers at me, anger heating his eyes.

“I don’t know. Obviously he paid someone because I’m not a guard, I’m a stripper. Don’t fall for his games. He wants you to go to that boat to kill you.”

“Something doesn’t feel right, we’re going to go,” he says

“Liam. Don’t do this,” I protest, pulling back one dealers looks at me with pity, wondering if I’m okay.

“Don’t make a scene,” he hisses in my ear.

We drive in silence to the dockyards, a stream of lights passing in a blur as I wonder if these are my final moments. My final breaths before everything goes black.

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