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Prologue
TRIGGER
6 YEARS EARLIER
I swallow another finger of Crown as I watch the man across from me. He’s locked in deep thought, debating whether to fold or call. It’s the second-to-last hand in the championship round of the Texas Hold ‘em poker game. The winner takes all. It’s just me and him now.
Based on my calculations, he’s sitting with a three-of-a-kind in Jacks, a solid hand, but it doesn’t stand a chance against the straight flush I’ve got off the river card.
“Sir, your bet?” the dealer, a cute little blonde with a high ponytail, asks him.
His dark eyes scan me, looking for a sign of weakness, but he won’t find one. I remain cool, leaning back in my chair, one arm casually draped over the back, my drink dangling from my fingers. The crowd around us is thick with anticipation.
He clears his throat, glances at his hole cards, then places them back down with shaky fingers. “All in.” He swallows hard when I don’t flinch. If he hadn't done it already, I would have pushed him to go all in myself.
With his chips, every last one of them shoved in the middle, he leans back, grinning like he’s already won.
I sit forward slightly, lifting my hole cards just enough to make sure he sees them. Then, I place my drink on the coaster with a deliberate clink. “Hmm…” I drag out the pause, savoring the moment. His nerves are evident. Three hundred grand on the line. I know it’s everything he has, including his life savings, and I’m about to take it all.
“I’ll meet your bet.” I push my chips into the center. The dealer collects the pot, and the tension rises.
“Gentlemen, please show your cards,” the dealer says, his voice calm but firm.
I flip over my hole cards, keeping my eyes locked on my opponent. His gaze drops to my hand, and I see the color drain from his face. “How can that be?” he shouts, his voice cracking. “You cheated. There’s no way you beat me!”
I’ve been called worse, but nothing pisses me off more than someone accusing me of cheating.
I lift my chin and motion for the two security guards standing nearby. They approach, ready to act.
“Sir, please show your cards and stop making a scene,” one of them says.
Grumbling, the man flips his hole cards, revealing the three of a kind. “I’m sorry, Sir, but a straight flush beats a three-of-a-kind,” the dealer says, confirming my victory.
“That can’t be! He has to be cheating!” Reese protests, still fuming.
Instead of getting into it with him, I stand up, adjusting my suit jacket with deliberate calm. “Miss, please have these cashed in and put the money into my account. Also, a twenty percent tip for you.”
The dealer’s cheeks flush red with desire as she nods.
Reese is still spitting angry accusations. Fine. Let him.
“Please remove Mr…” I pause, waiting for him to fill in the blank. I already know what his name is, but I wanted to make sure he’d at least be honest about it.
“Reese. Thad Reese,” he grumbles.
“Please remove Mr. Reese from the premises. If he doesn’t stop, he will be banned from this Casino,” I state, my voice sharp.
“Yes, Sir,” the first guard responds.
“You can’t do this!” Reese shouts, furious.
I step in close, our faces inches apart. “I can, and I will.”
With that, I reveal my tattoo, a large Ace of Spades intertwined with the RBMC logo. I make eye contact with the guard, and with a subtle nod, he understands. Reese will be escorted downstairs, where he’ll learn exactly why they don’t call me Trigger for nothing.
The Royal Bastards MC runs this casino now, thanks to my uncle's partnership with Capone and the LA Chapter. I handle the day-to-day operations, and every clean tournament we run means clean cash for the gun business. When the night’s over, I’ll collect the winnings and funnel them back into the club.
And as for Mr. Reese, he’ll leave this place with a lesson learned. One he won’t soon forget.