Heists and Vengeance

Twenty-Three

Cole

Cole looked up at the neon sign, bright letters spelling out the word

Casino Nova

He sighed. Just the sight of it drained out any pent-up frustration, or exhaustion from a long day of working that might be hiding in him. He smiled, mind anteing up for a few hours of high stakes rounds at the poker table, and walked through the large entry doors.

Entering the casino, he was hit with the familiar noise and smells that accompanied this place. It was loud and bustling, conversations all layered on top of each other, and there was an unmistakable scent of beer, the kind of smell you know never left.

It was now five o'clock – meaning he had at least an hour and a half before he had to head back, and so he wasted no time getting comfortable at one of the poker tables.

There were only two other people there, not including the dealer. One was skinny and long-limbed, and Cole could tell by his rumpled shirt and tie that he'd come straight from the office. His spectacles were perched on a nose that seemed too big for his face. The other seemed shorter and stout, and was going bald. He was wearing a Hawaiian t-shirt – clearly not as formally dressed as the other man.

The game was just about to start, when someone slid into the seat to the right of Cole just in the nick of time.

"Sorry I'm late," said the person, and Cole's eyes widened as he recognized the voice. He turned his head, and sure enough it was the dark eyes of Anthony Russo that stared straight back. He gulped, feeling nervous.

It wasn't the first time he'd encountered a Reaper at the casino before – this gambling den was frequented by all sorts of people, regardless of age, sex or gang affiliation. And the place was treated as a neutral zone, where everyone could coexist without fear of being called out, or harassed.

In fact, he'd seen Russo in the place before, but only from afar. From what he knew, the man usually tended to stick to roulette – Cole hadn't seen him anywhere near the poker tables before. Added with the fact that Russo had happened to take the seat right next to him...it seemed less coincidence, and more deliberate choice.

Cole guessed that Russo had something to say to him, but decided to stay quiet until the older man spoke first. He took his time, staying silent as they placed their starting wagers. Cole decided to bet more than he usually did – something was making him feel lucky that night. Maybe it was the reassuring familiarity of the place. Maybe it was the pride from being on the receiving end of Russo's attention. Maybe it was the beer he'd drunk before coming. He wasn't sure.

It was only during the first round that Russo picked up the conversation again.

"What do you plan to do with that 50 million you're going to be getting?"

Cole wasn't surprised that Anthony knew about that already – it wasn't easy to keep business deals quiet, especially when you were asking for outside help. Yet still, he paused. He really hadn't given the question much thought, preferring to wait and see if the heist was actually successful before making any plans.

"I'm not sure. I'll probably send some back to my sister, in England...I dunno what I'd do with the rest."

"You don't know? Forgive me, but I find that hard to believe." The man examined his hand with studious concentration. "You say your family is from England?" he said, without looking up.

"Yes, sir."

"Well, alright then," Russo said, sparing him a cursory once-over, as if the fact that he was English merited more attention. "And what's a-how old are you?"