Dead Man's Hand by Steven Meehan
Prologue
I have had my fair share of bad days, but the last twenty-four hours ranked as the worst of my life. I mean it wasn’t every day that you ended up standing over your own bullet-ridden corpse. There’s something about getting shot in the chest that really puts a damper on your day. But, surprising as is might sound, getting shot wasn’t the worst part. Alexis and I had worked very, very hard to come up with this plan. Granted, we didn’t have a lot of time to make it but we had been very thorough, at least, we thought we had been. Apparently we were wrong.
I stood staring down at my wounds when I heard something that pulled my attention up to Bertrand Dempsey’s wild eyes. Why were those normally steadfast eyes so wild? This man’s patience and determination were legendary; they were central to every story, rumor, or tale that I had ever heard about him. But for some reason, in this moment, that legendary resolve was broken. I stared into those eyes as I struggled to find the right word to describe what I found. But in the end, the only word that I could make fit was, excitement.
There he was, standing over my corpse, with the literal smoking gun in his hand, and he was excited about it. What was wrong with the man? As he stood there, basking in what he had done, his eyes shifted from my corpse to his next victim, Alexis. The excited look in his eyes grew ever so slightly as he studied the man standing next to my corpse. Was Dempsey truly demented? Scratch that, of course he was demented, and if something didn’t change soon, then I was just as demented for coming up with this plan. It had sounded like a good idea at the time. But now, with Dempsey standing with a loaded gun and turning his sights upon Alexis, I was beginning to have second thoughts.
The next moment another explosion erupted and before I knew it, Alexis was lying on the floor, gripping his arm. Dempsey must really be enjoying himself to have simply shot Alexis in the arm. If I had been able, I would have screamed. Why had I let Alexis alter my plan at all? Then again, what did it matter now? Alexis had assured me that with the noise Dempsey would cause when he arrived, one of his neighbors was bound to call the police. Well Dempsey had certainly made enough noise when he entered the house, but so far, there were no police. You would think that someone driving right through the front door would have gotten someone’s attention.
Dempsey didn’t own any lightweight cars and this vehicle was no exception. So why was the night still void of sirens? After all, I had only agreed to this alteration to my plan because Alexis guaranteed that the police would arrive here in plenty of time. And yet, they were still annoyingly absent.
When I had suggested that the police might not arrive until it was too late, Alexis had also assured me that he would be able to stretch out Dempsey’s actions until the police could arrive. But I guess the wall slowing Dempsey down was just too much to ask for since it had given way all too easily. And once he was through the wall, he had lost no time finding the pair of us. Before either of us could do anything, Dempsey shot me. Now he stood over Alexis, seemingly taking his time and enjoying himself.
Chapter 1
I listened to my phone ring, wishing Matt had waited until after the tournament to call me. But I should have known better. Especially since I had been ducking his calls for the last few days. Taking a deep breath I tried to rationalize ignoring this latest call as well; perhaps he would finally take a hint and stop trying to get hold of me. Unfortunately, I knew better than to really expect that to happen. It’s more likely that the sun will rise blue tomorrow than that Matt would ever stop calling.
Keeping my eyes fixed on the camcorder’s side display, I pulled the phone out of my pocket and greeted my oldest friend. “Hey Matt, how’s it going?”
Fortunately, Matt wasn’t normally one to hold a grudge, he would argue and fight about something for a while but, eventually, he would cool down. In fact, it was entirely possible that he wouldn’t even mention the ignored calls. (Of course this apparent indifference would last just long enough for him to find the most advantageous way to bludgeon me with guilt.) Therefore, it didn’t come as a surprise when I heard him greet me with his typically cheerful tone. “So are you ready for your tournament tomorrow, Marcus?”
That was the question I had been expecting him to ask, but I hadn’t expected it to be his first question. This was just a little too direct for him, which meant he was trying to start out by setting me on edge. And while such direct questions were normally the right way to do this, I had recently been steeling myself against this particular tact. I bit my tongue and sighed just a little, but quickly forced a smile as I answered the question as succinctly as possible. “More or less.”
“More or less?” Matt repeated immediately. What was that tone he used? Was that aggravation or was it anger?
I shrugged my shoulders and offered a token explanation, hoping to deflect him from his goal. “I have my entrance fee.”