Rouge: Act 4 – Scene 38

Kian

It’s been two days since Monroe Baron almost killed my wife, and as soon as I see my dad’s text on my new mobile, adrenaline thrums in my veins. Apparently, the Baron bastard has the audacity to think he can crash a McKennon poker game and come out unscathed. He’s always overplayed his hand, but I plan to call his bluff once and for all.

Roxana is visiting with Lacey, so I leave them both while Merek guards our suite. His presence gives me peace of mind so that I can make my way downstairs to deal with Monroe.

Once I get to the casino floor, I see Lorenzo standing watch outside the door to the high roller room. The lad proved crucial in helping Merek find evidence in Monroe’s suite, and in an hour or so, he’ll be enlisted for his biggest job yet. I have full faith in him that he won’t disappoint.

He juts his chin at me, but his gaze stays vigilant as he fills me in, “When security behind our cameras told me that Monroe entered the casino I was going to lock him up in the vault, but your father gave me the go-ahead to let him come play. Mr. McKennon said you have plans for the asshole.”

“I have plans alright. Anything else I should know?”

“He tried to take this inside…” Lorenzo subtly lifts his suit jacket to reveal a silver revolver.

I huff and shake my head. “What an eejit. Alright, stay sharp, lad. I’m ending this. Now. Don’t let anyone in.”

“Understood,” he answers quietly as he follows me into the room.

When I get inside the high roller room, I point my thumb behind me to the door. The dealers and croupiers begin to immediately close up their tables and boards.

“Hey!” one of the patrons yells. “We weren’t done!”

“Give them what they’re owed. The rest is for the house,” I announce, my tone making sure that the guests don’t give any more trouble.

A few of them grumble, but they don’t put up more of a fight, especially not after Lorenzo steps into the room and cracks his knuckles. A wee bit theatrical, but it does the trick.

Once everyone is gone and Lorenzo has closed the tall wooden doors that shut off the high roller room from the public, I travel to the back of the room and enter through the Red Room’s curtains, where nervous energy thickens the smoky air.

Monroe’s back is to me as he plays poker with my father and the families we trust like he isn’t a dead man walking. Muñoz, Thomson, Milton, and Luciano aren’t about to get their arses handed to them, but they still shift uncomfortably in their seats, a mixture of anxiety and bloodlust light their faces. My father, however, leans back in his chair, examining his fingernails, seemingly not a care in the world. He’s been babysitting until I could arrive and the rest are thirsty to see McKennon revenge in action.

The leadership in this room has proven loyal time and again. They kept my marriage secret, and they weren’t in on Monroe’s plans to take down the O’Shea. I’ll reward them in due time, but right now, I have business to settle in private.

“Families, out. Monroe stay.” My voice is barely audible, but the men at the table hop up as if I’d shouted, abandoning their cards in the middle of the session.

Monroe’s spine stiffens while the heads of the families leave him behind. As the Milton, the Thomson, and the Luciano pass me, wrinkles of disappointment mar the first two men’s faces, while the last gives me a nod of respect. Before the Muñoz can get through the curtain, though, I catch his arm to stop him.

“With everything Roxana has done for Lacey and me over the past year, I’m forever indebted to your family. You have my backing in whatever you pursue.”

“Of course. It’s what the Garde was supposed to be all about.”

“And it will be once Lacey and I become the Keepers.”

Monroe’s low scoff makes my fingers tighten into fists, but I’ll deal with him soon enough. The Muñoz’s black mustache twitches above his smile of approval before he exits.

As I turn to my prey, my father moves to sit by the door behind me. He settles into the chair with his hands resting on his upper thighs, casually revealing the gun holstered at his side. The man is pushing sixty but if anyone barges in to help Monroe, my dad will put a bullet in their brain before they can throw a punch.

“Ah, Kian.” Monroe lazily swivels in his chair and smirks before pulling something from his jacket pocket. “I was hoping you’d come down. Thought it was time I paid you a visit.”

He tosses a shiny piece of metal onto the poker table. At the sight of the wee silver wedding band, cool relief and hot rage duel for dominance in my veins. But when I meet the arsehole’s gloating smile, it’s Lacey’s scratches on his face and neck that make my blood boil.

I knew she’d fought for her life. The sight of her chipped nails alone made me murderous, but Monroe wearing the evidence of her self-defense like a fecking badge of honor has me advancing toward him, barely registering that he’s still talking.

“How’d you like the present I left you the other night? I thought she was a goner—”

My hands wrench him to his feet by his jacket collar and push him against the wall.

“You think you can touch my wife?”

Uncertainty flashes in his wide eyes before that arrogant attitude returns. His goatee outlines the downward trajectory of his lips like arrows as he frowns.

“It’s Baron, to you—”

I slam him into the wall and enjoy the crack his head makes against the surface, just like Lacey’s probably sounded against the marble. He groans and reaches for his head, and I have to stop myself from doing it again.

“How does that feel, Monroe? I wonder if you’ll be able to take the same kind of beating that you gave Lacey. By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll wish I’d used a bullet.”

I shake him once more before letting him collapse at my feet. Energy is riding me, making my fury a tangible thing that wants to burst from my skin. I pace in front of him like a caged beast ready to fight.

“Why the fuck are you here? Do you have a death wish?”

Monroe’s face contorts with anger as he scrambles up.

“Do you? You think you can treat me like this? You McKennons have always thought you were better than the rest of us, but newsflash. I’m the one who’s in charge now. I run this city and I’ve come here to stake my claim.”

I bark a laugh, I can’t help it. “Oh, you run this city, hmm? How do you figure, arsehole?”

A snide smile lifts his lips. “I was afraid I might’ve lost my chance at Keeper when I lost my temper, but Lacey’s still alive and I don’t even have to hide my plans anymore. You may have the Keeper’s daughter in your bed—for now—but after teaching her a lesson and showing her what happened to her father at my order, I have her right where I want her. Your sham of a marriage can be annulled in a second with the right judge. I will marry Lacey, and I will become Keeper. She may think she loves you, but she’ll do anything to get daddy dearest out of jail. And because you’re in love with her, that means you’ll both do whatever I say. With the O’Shea behind bars and his life in my hands, I’m fucking untouchable.”

He ends his wee rant with a cheeky chuckle, but I can’t wrap my mind around what he’s saying.

What the hell? With the O’Shea behind bars? He’s not in…

My eyes narrow for a brief second, but as soon as I figure it out, I blank my face. The people I’ve worked with have kept everything quiet for the O’Shea’s sake as much as their own. No one wants the press to find out that an innocent man was kept in jail for a year on their watch. Which means…

He doesn’t know Charlie’s been freed.

I tuck that information away for later and jab the air between us. “You’ve always been one cocky piece of shite, but this wee stunt makes you a fool, too. I don’t care how powerful you think you are in the Garde, you’re in my casino and McKennon house rules apply. I want that rematch, Monroe. Right here and now.”

I settle two seats down from where he was sitting and nod to our Red Room dealer. “Deal me in, Suzette.”

She gathers the cards from the table to shuffle and I speak to Monroe without bothering to glance up at him as she works.

“Sit, Monroe. We’re going to play for both right now.”

“Play for both? Lacey and ruling the Garde?” Greed lights in Monroe’s eyes. “Deal me in, too, then. If the great wild ace wants to barter with daddy’s money, then I’m more than willing to win it all.”

The bastard actually thinks he’ll beat me. I’ll remind him and the Garde that I’m not the one to feck with.

“Oh, we won’t be playing with money. Every hand will have an immediate payout, but Lacey and the Keeper position will be in the pot. Best of three will win it all in the end.”

He eyes me warily, some of the arrogance leaving him as he sits down. “Fine, then. If you want to make it interesting, let’s actually make it interesting. Starting bet, one of the McKennon holdings.”

My expression remains neutral at his blind bet and I make my own. “Grand. I’ll have your right arm, then.”

“My…” Monroe’s dirty-blond brow furrows with confusion. “My what?”

“Your. Right. Arm. Every time you’ve touched Lacey or said something disrespectful about her in my presence, I’ve made a tally in my head. Each round, we’ll bet something new. If I win, I’ll remind you where you laid your perverted hands.” I point at his right arm. “You held a death grip on her when you went to Mass. So if I win this hand, I’ll get to take that out on your right arm.”

He shifts uneasily in his seat. “And if I win?”

“I’m a fair lad. If you win, you get to do the same.”

“How do I know you won’t kill me whether I win or lose? Or have one of your men kill me?”

“No one will kill you in this casino, Monroe. I can promise you that.”

And I can. Despite the fact that my hand flexes underneath the table with the urge to split open its healing cuts on Monroe’s smug face, I have no intention of killing him here, or even today, for that matter. Lacey and I will make any decisions as final as life or death together.

“And outside?” he prompts.

“I can’t control what others do out there. But in here? Anything off the table is now on. Truly no-limits.”

Monroe’s narcissism clouds his judgment once again and an evil smile lifts his cheeks as he snatches the opportunity like the true gambler he is.

“Alright then, your losses, McKennon.”

We’re dealt our two cards and I assess them before making my bet. “I’ll call. Your tongue. You’ve talked shite with it several times.”

His eyes flare and he laughs. “Okay, then. I’ll raise. Call your man in here.”

My eyes narrow, trying to figure out his next play, but I do as the man says out of curiosity and I call for Lorenzo.

“Yes, sir.” His deep voice is swallowed by the curtains muffling the sound in the room as he enters.

Glee lights up Monroe’s face. “Do you have my revolver?”

I don’t take my eyes off Monroe, but Lorenzo hesitates in my periphery.

“You can answer him, Lorenzo.”

“Yes. I have your gun.”

“Excellent,” Monroe slaps the table. “Here’s my proposition. You were a fighter back in Ireland and your fists are your weapon. It’s hardly fair for me to play without one of my own. So then my bet is your arm, but if I win, I also get to play roulette… with my gun.”

My muscles tense and I sense my father doing the same before he bellows a laugh. “You must be mad, boy. There’s no way my son will allow a gun to a fistfight—”

“Grand. Fair is fair.”

Monroe’s smile widens at my answer and my father curses behind me.

“Kian, lad—”

“I said do it.” I tilt my head toward Monroe. “Lorenzo. Give the man his gun and continue to stand watch outside. I won’t have him thinking I didn’t play fair.”

My heart thuds as Lorenzo slowly does as I commanded, no doubt wondering if I’ve lost it, but I show no emotion. No matter what happens to me, my dad will make sure this prick doesn’t live long outside of our casino, and Merek will keep Lacey safe. If losing a game of poker is how it ends for me, well, that’d be as fitting an end as any for the wild ace.

Lorenzo places the gun in the center of the board, but it’s snatched away before Monroe can grab it.

“Hey!” Monroe calls and I turn to find my father spilling the bullets into his hand before pocketing them and handing the gun to Monroe.

“Can’t be playing roulette with more than one bullet, now can we?” my father points out.

Monroe’s lips purse. “There’s still one in there?”

“Check for yourself, lad.” My dad swats the air as he goes to sit in his chair near the door.

Monroe frowns at my father’s back before placing the gun on the lip of the table, but I lean over and push it into his chest.

“Put it away during the game. I don’t want you cheating. We both know how much you like to do that.”

“Fine,” Monroe grumbles as he sinks his gun into the waistband of his slacks rather than returning it to the holster.

He’s no doubt disappointed he couldn’t get a rise out of me. But inside, my heart thunders uncontrollably as Suzette lays down three cards.

I have a shite hand, but you never play your cards. You play your opponent. Lacey has a better poker face than this fecker, though, and delight flashes over Monroe’s expression before he blanks the emotion from it.

We place our next couple bets until Suzette lays the fourth card.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, this isn’t good.

Monroe chortles. “Raise. Another McKennon holding. Say, Kian, how will your daddy like you gambling away his businesses?”

“I’m not like you.” I shake my head as Suzette places the final card. “I don’t play with other people’s money.”

He harrumphs, but I tune him out. I know I’m losing this round, especially when Monroe raises for yet another McKennon holding. I bluff and bet in kind. There’s no way I’m folding to this motherfucker.

When we make our final bets, Monroe’s eyes flick from his cards to the back of mine and he wiggles to sit straighter in his seat.

“Showdown, McKennon. What’ve you got?”

I turn my cards over just as he does and his smile carves across his cheeks.

“F-flush beats ace-high,” Suzette stutters as she points to Monroe. “Mr. Baron wins, Mr. McKennon.”

The poor dealer must be at her wits’ end with these stakes, but I keep a level head as Monroe stands and pulls his gun from his waistband.

“So what’s that for me? Two McKennon properties, your right arm, and your tongue.” He spins his revolver and points it at me. “This might be a quick game.”

I twist to stare him in the eyes, but otherwise, I remain stock-still. His forehead creases at first as if he’s puzzled by my lack of emotion. On the outside, I’m channeling the part of me that used to not give a shite about living or dying.

Inside, though, I’m not as ready to meet my maker as I once was. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, and putting Lacey in harm’s way has been the worst. I would love to live the rest of my life earning her forgiveness, but Lacey will be safe no matter what happens to me, and—like I said—fair is fair. I proposed this game and I agreed to these stakes, so I’ll be damned if I let this fecker see me flinch.

He shakes off his confusion and exchanges it for a malicious grin as he pulls the trigger.

Click.

Spin…

I hold my breath as he fires.