Corey
Mr. Donahue. That’s how the guy is introduced, and I get an off vibe from him right away. For one thing, he’s late. I’ve been dealing poker for two hours with three other guys who showed up tonight and they’re not pleased with letting someone new into the game.
Two of them cash out. The third—Mr. Smith—stays but that’s because he’s down three hundred grand. He’s probably hoping to win something off Donahue.
“Where’s Nico Tacone?” Donahue demands once he’s sitting and his chips are in front of him.
“Mr. Tacone isn’t here tonight,” I say smoothly, dealing the cards.
Donahue looks pissed. “Why not? He invited me personally. I was told I’d be playing poker with him.”
My eyes narrow slightly. I doubt that’s true. I flick a glance to Leo, at the door. He’s not normal casino security
