Jacob Devereaux stretched his legs out in front of him as he surveyed screen after screen of security footage displayed on their state-of-the-art monitoring system. Everything seemed to be in order, they were busy enough for a Thursday night, mostly filling up with the long weekend crowd but with a smattering of regulars here and there.

Unfortunately, he knew from bitter experience just how quickly things could change. In the blink of an eye, a patron could turn from jovial to furious the moment their luck ran out.He'd owned this place long enough to be able to tell at a glance who would be the most likely candidate to turn nasty, in fact, he prided himself on his ability to spot them and defuse the situation before it got out of hand, especially if they were big spending high rollers.

Their patrons could be sorted into distinct categories; the rich kids that were more than happy to blow through their parents' money without bothering to learn the skills needed to win it back, the married ones on a weekend trip where anything goes, the desperate ones that were convinced that one more go would be the moneymaker, the smart ones that knew what they were doing, the tourists, and those that landed somewhere in between.

The tourists, the rich kids and the weekenders were mostly trouble free. They could kick off if things didn't go their way or they had indulged in a little too much of the complimentary refreshments, but he left them to his floor staff to deal with. The desperate ones had to be handled delicately. They needed to feel like they were still in charge while being gently encouraged into leaving with empty pockets.

But the smart ones, now they were the ones he found the most interesting to watch out for. For as long as there had been casins there had been high rollers working them, making a name for themselves, almost like rock stars of the gambling circuit, building a career out of playing their chosen game. They were the ones he liked to look out for, to nurture and encourage.

Gaming channels were growing increasingly popular, having boomed into being over fifty years ago, and they were showing no signs of slowing down. People liked to watch the games from the comfort of their own homes, following the careers of the players and even betting themselves on who would win each round. Finding that golden player, the one that had an interesting story, an air about them that set them apart from the others and the skills to make the game interesting was a hard task but ultimately worth it. It was a lucrative venture and one that he had been involved with since he'd opened the place and this, sitting here and simply observing, was the way to find his next superstar.

He reached for the decanter on his desk and poured three fingers into the matching cut glass crystal tumbler. Only the best for him. Appearances were everything.

He sipped slowly, savouring the smoothness of the liquor, letting it roll over his tongue before swallowing. He sighed, his eyes roving over the screens once again. Boring, boring, boring. This was going to be a long night.

-x-

"What did he say his name was?"

The waitress reached around him to collect an empty glass and arranged it on her tray. "Chip something or other. Walter maybe, or was it Walker?"

Ryan laughed as he gathered up the discarded cards and fed them back into the auto shuffler. "More like wanker."

The waitress giggled, fluttering her eyelashes at Ryan, who lapped up the attention. He knew she liked him, they had even shared a few nights together and it was clear she wanted more. But he was too young to settle down with just one woman, this was Vegas after all.

"Maybe after our shifts we could-" she started, but Ryan cut her off with a quick look as a new patron wound his way through the crowd, heading their way.

"Later, Mags."

She nodded, placing a fresh drink beside him as she hurried away. Shaking his head, Ryan moved the drink to the side, out of his way. Mags was a sweet girl, but she hadn't been working there long and wasn't quite up to speed with how things worked. It wasn't forbidden for staff to date, but the number one rule of the house was that the patrons came first. The customers needed to feel special, to get their full attention, that way they stayed longer and spent more money. It was simple selling, even if they didn't realise it. Flatter them, tell them how well they were doing and how they were bound to win the next one and they were putty in your hands. Having a waitress hanging around just to chat up the dealer was asking for a disciplinary.

Ryan brushed non-existent crumbs off the soft baize top of his table and smiled at the approaching man. And as he smiled, he sized him up. He didn't look that impressive, in fact, he looked like a bit of a wet blanket. He had dark hair that was swept back from his face with far too much gel for his hair type, his eyes looked a little small behind his wire-rimmed glasses and his baggy t-shirt and jeans combo did nothing for his body shape, which already looked to be verging on skinny. All in all, he looked like someone that had just crawled out of his mom's basement. The nerd type that fancied himself a gambler because he'd seen it on TV. Essentially, an easy mark.

"Hey, my man, you gonna play?" Ryan greeted, keeping his tone light and welcoming.

"Thinkin' about it," the man, who looked to be in his mid-twenties, drawled, his southern accent pronounced.

Ryan knew his type, small-town mama's boy who thought he could make it big in the city. He'd have saved up a couple of thousand dollars at the most and would quickly be relieved of it. Simple.

"Have you got a drink?" Ryan asked, motioning to a passing waiter, who hurried over. "What can we get you?"

The guy looked panicked for a moment or two as he dug his hand into his pocket, which rustled with the sound of rarely used paper notes. Not that Ryan was surprised, casinos were one of the only places people used cash anymore, not wanting an electronic record of their wins or losses.

"Do y'all take electronic payment?" the man asked, looking slightly ashamed as he admitted, "I just cashed in all my savin's."

"It's on the house," Ryan told him, with an understanding smile, trying to not let it turn smug. He loved it when he was right. This kid didn't have a clue how casinos worked, he'd be broke in under an hour.

"No kiddin'!" The man dropped down onto the chair opposite Ryan's dealer's seat. "Then I'll be having' myself a beer, thanking you kindly."

The waiter nodded and took off for the bar.

"Name's Tyler," the man said, offering Ryan his hand. "And you are?"

Ryan pointed to his name tag. "Ryan." He shook the man's hand, politeness was key.

"Good to meet ya, Ryan." Tyler shook his hand in a surprisingly firm grip. "I'm fixin' to win a small fortune if you care to be a part of it."

Ryan spread his hands, gesturing to the empty table. "I've got the time if you've got the dime."

Tyler reached into his pocket, drawing out a handful of notes. Not a fortune, but enough to play a few games. "That I do."

Tyler went to set them down in front of Ryan but he stopped him. "Not in the betting circle, or it'll count as a cash bet." He tapped the outer edge of the table and added, " You have to buy in first, and exchange it for chips."

"Oh, right, how many can I get for…" Tyler paused to count out the notes. "For nine- thousand? That's all I got."

"Hundreds and five hundreds, add some twenty-fives if you want to start small," Ryan told him.

Tyeler considered this, nodding his understanding. "Well, I haven't played since I was knee-high to a bullfrog, taught by my Granddaddy, so I guess I should take maybe five hundred in twenty-fives, three thousand in fives and the rest in hundreds," Tyler said as he laid the money carefully on the table. "Let's hope I can still remember how this works."

Ryan bit back his grin as he took the money and counted out the chips, sliding them across the table. This was going to be ridiculously easy, he wouldn't even have to try.

Tyler took the offered chips with a nod, "Thanks, oh, and thank you," he added as the waiter placed his beer, along with a whiskey chaser, on the table beside him.

"You ready to start?" Ryan asked as Tyler finished arranging his chips into neat little piles and took an experimental sip of his beer.

"Surely, let's get to it." He selected a $25 chip and placed it in the betting box in front of him. "Let's hope God's smiling on me tonight."

"Yeah, let's hope," Ryan said as he slid one card out of the shoe and placed it in front of Tyler. "King."

Tyler grinned happily. "Boy, that's a good one."

"Yeah, it is," Ryan agreed as he dealt himself a card and then another one to Tyler. "Eight." He then slid another under his own card. Then he waited. Tyler simply stared at him, waiting for further instruction. Ryan waved a hand at Tyler's cards. "What do you want to do?"

"Oh! I guess it would be a little risky to try to get anything better, so I guess I'll hold on."

Ryan nodded, "Player stands." He used his second card to flip over his first. "Nine." He turned the second card. "Four." He reached for a third card, drawing it from the shoe. "Seven, that makes twenty, dealer wins." He swiped Tyler's chip away with practised ease.

"Just my first hand," Tyler said cheerfully as he laid down a $100. "Go again, I'll get the hang of it."

"Sure you will," Ryan said confidently as he dealt the first cards. "Five." Then the second. "Four. What do you want to do?"

"No use sticking at nine," Tyler said with a laugh. "Better hit me, that's what they said, ain't it?" He tapped the table with his fingers, then sipped his beer, taking a longer pull this time.

"Sure is." Ryan dealt another card face-up. "King makes nineteen."

"I'll hold."

Ryan flipped over his first card. "King." Tyler sucked in a breath. Ryan flipped the next. "And seven makes seventeen, player wins." He picked up a matching chip from his own store and placed it in front of Tyler. "Well done. Another hand?"

"Sure thing." Tyler stacked the chip he'd just won on top of his own and placed them in the betting spot. "Two hundred, I'm feeling lucky now."

Ryan held in his smile as he dealt the first cards. Punters always got over confident after a win, but this kid was starting early. "King and seven."

"I'll hold."

"Dealer has Ace." He revealed his next card. "Four." He dealt himself another. "And six, making twenty-one, dealer wins." He scooped up the cards and set them aside then took Tyler's chips.

"Dang." Tyler rubbed his chin, playing with his chips as he thought about his next move. He was going to keep going, but he had to try to increase his odds. He'd watched a game or two as he'd moved around the room, observing as he decided what he might like to play. "Can I play two hands?" He'd seen others do that, surely that would increase his chances?

Ryan shrugged and replied easily, "Sure. Place your bets."

Tyler counted out two hundred dollar chips and two twenty-fives and placed them in one square, then did the same with the next one over. "Five hundred."

Ryan smiled to himself, the lad was playing right into their hands. This was a trap that many novice gamblers fell into, feeling like they needed to up their bets to win more after getting a small taste. He just had to keep being nice and give him enough rope.

He dealt out the first three cards, two to Tyler and one to himself. "Queen and King."

Tyler sat up a little taller in his seat, they were bloody good cards. Maybe he could do well after all. He watched carefully as Ryan dealt the next cards.

"Another queen and," Ryan paused to deal the next cards. "Ace. Blackjack." He reached over to his pot and retrieved three hundred dollar chips and two twenty-fives and placed them beside Tyler's. He then flipped his first card over. "Seven."

"I'll hold the queens," Tyler told him, grinning broadly. Even if he lost this hand he'd still have made his money back.

"I thought you might," Ryan said, laughing good-naturedly as he flipped over his second card. "Six." He had to deal again. "Jack, dealer's bust." He gathered up the cards and then slid two hundreds and two twenty-fives to Tyler.

"I think I'm finally getting the hang of this," Tyler said, leaning back on his stool as he finished his beer. "And I think I'll have another of these."

-x-

Tyler hurried into the bathroom, his bladder protesting the unaccustomed amount of beer currently filling it. He zeroed in on the urinal furthest the wall, as was his custom, and positioned himself in front of it before doing the unzip and dangle dance. He closed his eyes, relaxed and…

"Hey, my man."

Tyler jumped out of his skin, his eyes snapping open. He looked slowly to the side, praying that he was wrong, before saying, "I'm sorry, were you talking to me?"

"No one else here." The man standing just one spot up along the wall grinned at him, showing no sign of embarrassment or modesty, acting like it was normal to strike up a conversation with a perfect stranger while in the bathroom.

Tyler stared at him like he was an alien. The man had light strawberry blond hair, with yellowy blond tips, styled into points that stuck up this way and that. His shirt was hanging half open, showing an expanse of muscular, bronzed flesh. He wore sunglasses even though it was probably in the early a.m by now. And, as Tyler watched, he swayed slightly, showing that he too had been indulging in the free drinks.

"How's the luck tonight?" the man asked in between humming as he emptied his bladder.

"I'm not sure it's a question of luck," Tyler answered, because really, what else was he supposed to do? He'd heard stories of Las Vegas and the kind of people that came here, you never knew what might happen if you pissed one off. And, while he was sure that he wasn't about to be offed in the bathroom, one could never be too sure.

"Won much?" the stranger continued, treating it like they were friends meeting up at a bar.

"Enough," Tyler said, thankfully finishing up. He shook and zipped, more than ready to get out of there.

"I've won a few," the man continued as if he had all the time in the world. Jeez, how much had he drunk? "Lost more than I've won thought," he continued. "But that's life, right my man?"

Tyler moved to the sink, wishing that his mother hadn't brought him up so well that the need to wash and dry his hands was so firmly ingrained in him. "I guess."

The man let out a relieved sigh, shook his hips like a hula dancer and, thankfully, zipped up before turning around. "It's all in the mind, dude," he said, "the power of positive thinking."

Tyler rinsed his hands but decided to forego drying them in favour of escaping quicker. "If you say so, I guess we'll see."

He left the man standing there, whistling cheerfully to himself as he washed his hands.

-x-

Jacob wound his way through the tables, stopping here and there to check in with his dealers. The night was still relatively quiet but it was filling up, the noise level steadily increasing.

"How goes it?" he asked, stopping at Ryan's table. There was a large collection of chips sitting in one of the complementary trays and from just a quick glance he could see the number totalled more than fifty thousand. Not a huge amount by any stretch, but apparently impressive enough to make Ryan nod in his direction to call him over.

"Not sure, got a young one here but he's doing well," Ryan answered, keeping his tone casual, as if he was reporting the weather.

Jacob crossed his arms. "And the issue is?"

"He started with nine thousand just two hours ago."

Jacob's eyebrow twitched in surprise but that was the only outward sign he gave. "And?"

"He's a chatty one." Ryan glanced towards the bathrooms to make sure Tyler wasn't on his way back just yet. "Told me his life story in under an hour. He's here hoping to win enough to fund a business venture because he got screwed over by his employers and wants out."

Jacob scratched his chin thoughtfully. "He good looking?"

"Not too hard on the eyes."

Jacob nodded decisively. "Send him back, we'll test him out." He didn't bother staying longer, he had more important things to do, besides, the guys out in the back room would take care of everything.

-x-

Tyler settled back in his seat and reached for the fresh bottle of beer that had appeared as if by magic, more than ready to continue now that he'd made some room. He chugged back a good quarter and choked down a small belch. That hit the spot.

Ryan pushed his tray of chips his way but stopped him with a wave of his hand when Tyler moved to make his next bet.

"You've been upgraded."

Tyler frowned, confused. "Now hold your horses, upgraded? But I only just got here."

Ryan shrugged. "Boss said you'd be welcomed if you wanted to move someplace quieter."

"What kind of place?"

The kid looked nervous so, for once, Ryan took pity on him. "V.I.P. section, all above board. It's just away from the main floor where the rabble is." He slid the entrance card across the table. "You'd be mad to pass it up. There's a thousand dollar maximum bid here, but there are no limits in there."

He could see the wheels turning in the younger man's mind. Higher bets meant a quicker payoff. If he kept winning as he had been he could make his goal quicker than anticipated. Mind made up, he reached across and took the card. "Thanks, reckon I'll take you up on that offer."

"You'll do good," Ryan assured him.

"Lord willin'," Tyler agreed, emptying the contents of his tray into his jacket pocket. "But it was mighty nice to meet ya." He held out his hand and Ryan shook it.

Call him sentimental, but Ryan liked the kid. If he did well out back he could go far. He'd heard all about the scrape he'd gotten into through his own naivety and willingness to trust, taking others at their word. He deserved a break and if he kept his head, he might just get more than he ever dreamed of.

Following Ryan's directions, Tyler made his way to the restricted area of the casino floor. He'd seen people going in and out all night, but he'd never stopped to ask how. He'd had his eyes firmly set on the prize and hadn't been about to let himself get distracted with thoughts of things he had no business being curious about. That area wasn't for the likes of him. And yet, here he was.

He handed the invitation card to the guy at the door who was dressed in the kind of smart suit that security often wore. The man barely glanced at the card, making no move to take it before stepping aside to let him pass.

The inside of the V.I.P. area didn't look much different from the main floor. The same decorations of red carpets, cream walls and gold woodwork accents had been carried through, but the flashing lights of the machines and the excitable screams were noticeably absent. There was still excited chatter and celebratory yells but muted. More controlled.

Apart from one corner on a roulette table.

"Come on, baby, four black, four black! Daddy needs a new tour bus!"

Tyler looked over, his eyes drawn there without his say-so. Did it have to be that guy?

"No more bets," called the bored-sounding croupier. He spun the wheel while Tyler's urinal buddy bounced up and down in between two ladies with overly generous chests and too small dresses. He'd heard of their type, they hung out in casinos and latched on to high rollers in the hopes of being gifted chips and shopping trips, or maybe even winning a husband they could milk for every cent he had. Not that the guy seemed to care.

"Eighteen red, house wins."

"Fuck! Every time!"

"Language!" Tyler chided automatically. But boy, did he wish he hadn't.

"Buddy!" The guy waved enthusiastically. "Come over here."

"No, I really don't think-" Tyler stuttered, but the guy pushed one of the ladies in his direction.

"Go get him, sweetheart, this is my new buddy."

"Sure thing, Chip," she twittered, prancing over on the biggest heels Tyler had ever seen and he'd known some cheerleaders in high school that had worn shoes like skyscrapers. She grabbed hold of Tyler's arm and towed him over without waiting for his permission.

"Chip Walker," the dude said when Tyler was deposited at his side.

"Tyler Rogers." He didn't offer his hand, he wasn't sure that Chip had even splashed his hands with water, let alone washed them properly. "I really didn't intend to join you," he tried. "I was just reminding you to watch your P's and Q's, there are ladies present. Manners cost nothing you know."

Chip threw his head back as he burst out laughing. "Man, you are way too uptight. Here," he paused to pick up a chip, handing it to Tyler, "first one's on me, pick number."

"Erm…" Tyler looked at the chip in his hand, a maroon five thousand dollars. "I really don't think you should be givin' them away like this."

"Pick a number," Chip insisted, slinging his arm around Tyler's shoulders.

"Fine," Tyler said, giving in for the sake of peace. "But just one spin." He glanced at the board and picked one at random.

"Seventeen black," the croupier called out.

"Ten-k on thirty red," Chip announced, throwing his chip down. He looked at the girl next to him. "What about you? Pick me a winner and I'll buy you a boat."

The girl giggled as she reached around Chip without a care to pick up a chip worth ten thousand. She didn't even bother to aim, just tossed it towards the mat. It landed near eight black.

"Eight! I picked Eight!" she cheered, bouncing excitedly. Tyler quickly averted his eyes, sure that her chest was in danger of popping straight out of her skin tight tube dress.

"Eight black," the croupier intoned, using his rake to move the chip so it sat where it should.

"What about me?" the girl who had dragged Tyler over whined, her bottom lip pouting out.

"Here, honey." Chip tossed her another ten thousand. She caught it with far more skill than Tyler had given her credit for and, with much exaggerated leaning over the table, making sure Chip got a good view of her assets, she placed it on twenty-three red.

"Twenty-three red. Any more bets?"

The people watching shook their heads, more interested in the show that Chip was putting on, than betting themselves.

"No more bets!" The croupier spun the wheel and tossed the little ball in. The ball spun along with the wheel, then hopped this way and that, before settling in a slot. The croupier reached over, pressing his finger to the top of the wheel to stop its spin.

"Winner, Seventeen black."

"Man! You did it, you're my new lucky charm," Chip cheered, slapping Tyler on the back.

"I thought you said I was your lucky charm?" one of the girls said, pouting cutely. "You said you were going to take me to LA with you and make me a star."

"You said you were going to marry me!" the other girl protested, her hands on her hips.

Chip held up his hand placatingly. "Hey, hey, no need to fight girls, there's plenty of Chip to dip, if you know what I mean?"

Tyler watched incredulously as the girls melted under the power of Chip's megawatt smile, glueing themselves back to his side. How was he doing that? He was loud, obnoxious and his teeth were far too bright to be natural, as was his tan, yet they were lapping it up. He guessed it was the old cliche that money talked.

"Keep the chips coming, you know how I like it," Chip called out, laughing at the ridiculous pun of his own name. He tossed some cash to the croupier, then tucked a note down into each of the girls' cleavages. "And there's more where that came from."

Tyler shook his head and turned to leave. He wasn't about to waste his time watching this showboater, he had his own bets to make.

"Hey, where you going, Bud?" Chip called after him, but Tyler waved him away, making his way towards the poker table near the back. He was in the mood to try something different.

-x-

A few blocks away from the casino, he threw himself into the first automated taxi he saw. He collapsed back against the seat, sighing in relief. The noise, the lights, not to mention the overwhelming atmosphere of that place had been hell on earth.

He slid his glasses off, closed his eyes, and took a few deep breaths, allowing the quiet to wash over him. He stayed that way for more than five minutes, decompressing.

Once the chatter in his brain had died down and he could stand the idea of speaking again he opened his eyes and sat up. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his phone and tapped the screen, his thumb print unlocking it and activating the voice command function.

"EOS?"

"Yes, John?" She was right there, as she always was, ready to help.

"Did you manage to hack into any of their phones?"

"Only the guests, and a small number of dealers, but none of the ones in the V.I.P. area, they were closely guarded and there was a dampener on the door. I lost your signal once you got in there." Her logo faded from the screen, replaced with a scrolling list of names and numbers.

John nodded, not too disappointed. He'd expected as much. This had just been a scouting mission, one that, admittedly, had gone far better than he had ever expected. He'd picked his mark carefully, watching the dealers to find one that seemed nice, but older enough to have been there a while. Then it had just been a matter of gaining his trust a little, telling him his tale of woe over a beer, showing a little skill at the cards and Ryan had played right into his hands.

Just as it had been reported on the message boards, Jacob Devereaux had once again been scouting for talent on his home turf. The man was still a mystery to them. Coming from nothing, literally, as he'd changed his name more times than Selene changed her mind about what to order for dinner, he had built his casino from the ground up due to a number of lucky breaks that bordered on magical. He'd made investment after investment that never failed, had a steady stream of famous faces walking through his doors, and was the brains behind the latest, and most popular, online gambling platform.

But it wasn't just that. John had heard through the grapevine that he hosted an exclusive weekly poker tournament for big betting and highly skilled players only. A number of the top names in the poker and blackjack world had made their start in his tournaments. Sponsorship deals and anonymous backers were expected, and apparently they loved a sob story. And John had just secured himself an invite.

He touched the card in his pocket, making sure that it was still there even though he had already memorised it.

"It'll be easier next time," he promised EOS, although he could have been trying to convince himself. "It's an online game, we'll be on home turf then. Nothing to worry about, we'll stick to the plan and it'll work out fine."

"Until Selene finds out," EOS pointed out in that maddening way she had.

John sighed, feeling a headache coming on. "I'll tell her tomorrow. But for now, tell me what she's doing?"

The screen changed again, showing a live feed of their bedroom. His wife was curled up on his side of the bed, the bedside lamp still on, an abandoned book laying open near her hand. Just the sight of her made some of the tension inside him unknot.

"When did she fall asleep?"

"About three hours ago, she worked hard on her yoga with Kayo, took a slow walk with Jeff and then helped Grandma with dinner," EOS reported.

"So, in other words she overdid it the moment I left?" He, tried not to smile, he was just so proud of her. She was the strongest person he knew and the one that shined the brightest.

"I believe so, I tried to warn her bu- Two O'clock," EOS said, interrupting herself. John immediately glanced to his right, seeing someone outside. He leant over and opened the door in invitation.

"How'd it go?"

"Like clockwork," Gordon reported, settling in beside him. His shirt was done up properly now, John noted, and his hair had been brushed through, the spikes knocked back and combed away. "As I was heading out they requested I join them at a private get together but I told them I had to shoot a music video in Germany so couldn't make it. So they gave me the online details."

"They obviously thought you were an easy mark with more money than sense," John said.

"Exactly as we intended." Gordon leant forward to program their destination into the onboard sat-nav. He sat back as the taxi moved away from the curb.

"You needn't bother logging in. I can handle it just fine," John assured him.

"Wasn't planning on it," Gordon answered, blinking as he popped his contacts out into his hand. "I've never been good at Poker, I wouldn't last five minutes." He shook his head. "No, I've done all I can, Bro. Now you're on your own until it comes time to find this guy."

"You played your part perfectly, now it's our turn."

Gordon looked at his brother, his eyes still unable to comprehend how different he looked without his trademark red hair. He had no doubt that he would pull it off, John wouldn't allow anything else, but he couldn't help worrying. He knew the type of men they were after and they weren't the nice kind.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Gordon had to ask. "We could stop it now and let the agents handle it."

John stared at his phone for a moment, his eyes on his wife's face, lit up by the soft glow of the lamplight. He turned his phone, showing Gordon the screen.

"Look at her," he paused for a moment, before continuing, his voice filled with steely determination. "I would do anything for her." He looked at his brother, meeting and holding his eyes. "I would kill for her, I would die for her, and I would do it a thousand times over if it meant she would be safe." He turned the phone back to face him. "Of course I'm sure, it was never a question I needed to answer."