The Beast of Napa

Prologue - Desperate Deals

"Full house."

Patrick tapped his fingers nervously on the table, watching Thomas take his chips. He was down more cash than he cared for. His luck wasn't good today, despite his desperate need for it.

"Are you still good for it, Patrick?" Michael joked, taking a sip of his brandy.

Patrick's round face bounced into a relaxed smile as he scratched the thick stubble that wrapped around his lips and climbed up his cheeks. Oh well. This is what gambling was about, wasn't it? Risking it all?

"Never better, gentlemen," Patrick replied, waving for a new hand to be dealt. "Fate favors the generous."

The men cackled, their cigar smoke rising to the ceiling in mockery.

"Is that what it is? Generosity?" James asked. "And here I thought you were just a poor poker player."

The men placed their bets and Patrick checked his hand. It was good. Not great, but good enough to call. He could probably bluff his way to get the others to fold, bowing out of the game at the end of the hand.

If there was anything Patrick was skilled at, it was bluffing.

"How's business these days?" Patrick asked, attempting to distract his opponents. "There's been such a crackdown here in Chicago. I worry for you gentlemen."

The men didn't even blink.

"It's been nothing but a blessing to us," James said, the scar over his eye bouncing as he smiled. "We've been able to provide our customers with plenty of drink, thanks to our sponsors."

"Sponsors?"

"Yes. The brewers in town don't want to see their families starve, and are willing to provide us with alcohol at cheap prices. We sell it back for triple. Regardless of the new law, there are plenty of men of the red, white, and blue looking for a stiff drink after their shift. They don't bother us much. And if they do... well..."

He casually patted the Colt in his jacket pocket.

Patrick's ear twitched with genuine interest. "It seems business isn't bad at all then."

Thomas nodded happily. "Far less competition. Raise. Two-hundred."

The men coughed, half-laughing in disbelief.

"That makes the pot up to a thousand," Michael said. "Too rich for me. You two can have at it."

"I fold as well," James said, throwing his cards on the table.

Patrick tapped his fingers against his cards, distracted. What money and power these men had in a time of government control! If only he had some of that peace of mind for himself...

"Your move, Patrick," Thomas said, his poker face as flawless as always.

Something in the back of Patrick's mind told him to fold, but he ignored it. He didn't even have the money to fold. So why quit now?

"Call," Patrick said, throwing in the last of his chips.

The man in front of him nodded. Patrick put his cards on the table.

"Straight," Patrick declared.

His heart dropped in his chest as his opponent fanned out four of a kind.

"No luck today, Patrick," Thomas said, taking the chips.

Patrick's lips twitched, but he quickly pulled them back into a smile. "Always happy to oblige. But it seems I've lost all my chips for tonight, gentlemen."

"Nothing to worry about, Patrick. Just pay us by the end of the month, as always."

Patrick shrugged. "Of course. I always do."

Yes, he always found a way to pay his debts. The guns sitting on the side of the room were a good reminder that there wasn't a second option.

Patrick tapped his cigar against the ashtray, being careful not to scrape his gold watch on the table again. "Speaking of business, gentlemen, how would you feel about a partnership with a fine wine label?"

The men glanced at each other.

"Wine?" Michael asked.

Patrick nodded. "I have a cousin in the wine business. He's quite the influence out in Napa Valley."

"California?" Thomas asked. "Why would we want business on the West Coast?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

The men smirked, understanding his meaning.

"If you're interested in a little real estate out in the West, I may be able to help," Patrick continued. "What do you think?"

The men looked at each other with curiosity. 

"What's the name of the maker?" Michael asked.

"Griffin," Patrick said, taking a puff of his cigar with a gritty smile. "Nathaniel Griffin, the Beast of Napa."