Page 9

NINE

BOZO

One Year Ago

“You up for this?” Lorcan questions with a grin. The man has made millions—hell, probably even more than that. He takes a cut of my profit as he stakes me, not to mention the money he takes in from rake. Every cash game and tournament he puts on, he’ll take a percentage. For tournaments, he’ll have a buy-in, and part of that buy-in will include a handling fee that goes straight to Lorcan’s business. Whereas the cash games are where he takes the most money, every pot played, a rake will be taken for the business. The higher the pot, the higher the rake.

"Always," I reply steadily. A poker game isn’t ever going to shake me. I’m good at what I do and now everyone knows it.

Lorcan claps me on the shoulder, pride and greed etched on his face. "That's my boy. Remember, there are a lot of crime bosses here tonight. You don't need to worry about them. You’re covered," he assures me.

One thing about Lorcan is he protects those he deems family, and for some fucked up reason, that includes me. We’ve been working together for years, and while I keep the hell out of the illegal side of his business and just play cards, I’m part of his family, and it’s in a way that won’t ever change no matter where my life takes me.

“Who’s here?” I ask. Over the years, I’ve met a lot of the crime bosses. Some are decent, others are fucking assholes and hate to lose. It all depends on what type of mood tonight brings. If they’re happy and joyous, they’ll play looser and won’t care about losing money, but if they’re uptight and in no mood to play… well, that’s when things can get dicey.

Over the years, I’ve changed a lot. I’m no longer the scrawny kid Lorcan met. I work out. I’ve gained about a hundred pounds, most of it pure muscle.

As we walk toward the private room, I see the warehouse that Lorcan uses as a casino is full to the brim. He’s holding a tournament tonight as well as a high-stakes cash game. The tournament is for those who can play fast and loose with a lot of money and love the thrill of playing poker.

I can feel the eyes of the players on me as we enter the back room where the cash game is taking place. Unlike the main floor, back here is decked out with plush leather seats for the players and waitresses ready to be at the beck and call of each player and get them drinks if they need.

Lorcan leans in close, his breath hot on my ear. "I've got a lot riding on this one, Connor."

I grin when I see my opponents. Jerry Houlihan and a couple of Americans are here, as are Lorenzo Mariano and Tempest, both here from Boston. Lorenzo is the son of Cesare Mariano, one of the heads of the Boston Syndicate Elite, and Tempest is the secretary for the Saint’s Outlaws motorcycle club. There are also two other guys that I don’t know. One is wearing a cut that says he’s part of a motorcycle club here in Dublin called Fury Vipers. I’ve heard a little about them but haven’t met any as of yet.

I nod to Lorcan, understanding what he means. If we win tonight, we’ll win big. If not, it could mean owing someone big, and that’s not an option. This isn't just another game; it's a power play, a chance to solidify his position among these crime bosses.

As I take my seat at the table, I feel the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. The green felt beneath my fingertips, the soft clink of chips being stacked, it's all part of the ritual I've come to love.

Jerry Houlihan catches my eye and gives me a nod of recognition. Over the years, we’ve grown closer. He’s become almost a surrogate dad to Gráinne. He’s kept to his word and helped her out, paying for her school tuition and anything else she needs. She’s not seen her dad since the night I returned home. Instead, she stayed with Jer and became a member of the Houlihan family.

The Americans, Lorenzo and Tempest are eyeing me with curiosity. They've probably heard stories, but tonight they'll see for themselves what I can do.

The guy from the Fury Vipers is a wild card. His eyes are hard, constantly scanning the room as if expecting trouble. The other unknown player is older, in his late seventies, maybe older, with a full head of gray hair, and he's dressed in an expensive suit. He exudes an air of quiet confidence that tells me he's no amateur.

As the dealer begins to shuffle, I take a deep breath, centering myself. The first hand is dealt, and I glance at my cards—pocket kings. A strong start, but I'm not playing amateurs, that's for sure, so I'll take it easy and see how the play goes.

"Gentlemen," the dealer announces. "The game is No-Limit Texas Hold'em. Good luck."

The betting begins, and I can feel the tension in the room ratchet up a notch. The Fury Viper is first to act. He throws in a small bet; nothing too over the top, but enough to make a statement. The older gentleman smoothly calls, his face betraying nothing. He’s old school; I know that by just looking at him. He won’t be up to any bullshit tonight.

I consider my options carefully. With pocket kings, I'm sitting pretty, but I don't want to give away the strength of my hand too early. I match their bets, my chips sliding into the pot with a satisfying clink.

Lorenzo and Tempest fold quickly, clearly not willing to commit too much this early in the game. Jerry, however, surprises me by re-raising. His eyes meet mine briefly, a silent challenge dancing in them. Jerry knows me. He knows how good I am and what I’m capable of doing. He’s testing to see how far I’ll go in this first hand; how much I’m willing to show the other players at this early stage. The remaining players call Jer’s raise and I follow suit.

The flop comes down: ace of hearts, seven of clubs, two of diamonds. Not ideal for my kings, but not terrible either. The Fury Viper leads out with the exact same bet as he did pre-flop. The gentleman calls again, his movements deliberate and unhurried.

I can feel Lorcan's eyes boring into me from across the room. He knows as well as I do that this hand could set the tone for the entire night. I take a moment, weighing my options, before calling, and I’m not surprised when Jerry does the exact same.

The turn brings the jack of spades. No help there. It’s pretty much the same as the previous bet. It’s annoying that the Fury Viper guy hasn’t upped the ante, but I’m letting him lead, letting him set the pace, as we all are by the looks of things.

As the dealer prepares to reveal the river card, I can feel the tension in the room ratchet up another notch. The Fury Viper guy’s fingers drum on the table, whereas the older gentleman remains perfectly still, his eyes fixed on the center of the table.

The river card slides into place: king of clubs.

I’d smile if I could. I've hit my set, and now I'm sitting with the best hand there is. The Fury Viper hesitates for a moment before pushing forward a substantial bet, nearly half his stack. The gentleman considers for a long moment before folding with a resigned sigh.

Now it's my turn. I can feel Lorcan's gaze burning into me, silently urging me to make the most of this opportunity. I take a deep breath, not wanting to seem too eager, before pushing my entire stack into the middle.

"All in," I announce.

Jerry's eyebrows shoot up, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he schools his features to remain impassive. He studies me intently, trying to read any tells, but I give him nothing. After what feels like an eternity, he shakes his head and folds.

All eyes turn to the Fury Viper guy. His eyes narrow on me as he watches me closely. He glances at his remaining chips, then back at the pot, clearly torn. His jaw clenches as he stares me down, his fingers tapping against the table. The tension in the room is palpable. Everyone is focused on his next move.

"Fuck it," he growls, shoving his remaining chips into the middle. "I call."

I keep my face impassive as I flip over my pocket kings. The Fury Viper's eyes widen as he reveals his hand: ace-jack suited. He had the top two pair; a strong hand, but not strong enough.

"Fuck!" he snarls, running a hand over his head. He turns to me and smiles. “Heard a lot about you, kid,” he says as he reaches across the table to shake my hand. “I’m Pyro.”

I shake Pyro's hand, nodding respectfully. "Unlucky," I say, keeping my voice neutral. It's always a delicate balance in these high-stake games—you don’t want to come across as arrogant.

Pyro leans back in his chair, a wry smile on his face. "Well, looks like I'm re-buyin’. Need to try and win some of my money back. It’s goin’ to be hard with this one," he says, jerking his thumb in my direction.

I can see Lorcan approaching from the corner of my eye. He claps Pyro on the shoulder, murmuring something I can't quite catch. Whatever it is, it makes Pyro laugh and nod. Lorcan clicks his fingers, and within seconds, Pyro’s being re-stacked with chips.

The dealer begins shuffling for the next hand, and I take a moment to survey the players. Jerry's watching me with a mixture of pride and wariness—he knows better than anyone at this table what I'm capable of. The two Americans, Lorenzo and Tempest are grinning. This isn’t the first time I’ve played either man. They’re close friends; something I found odd at first, not realizing that the motorcycle club and Italian mafia ran in the same circles, but I have since found out that their worlds are very closely entwined.

The older gentleman catches my eye and gives me a slight nod of respect. "Impressive play, young man," he says, his voice heavy with an Irish accent. "I'm afraid we haven't been properly introduced. I’m Henry Gallagher," he says, extending his hand.

Holy shit, it’s the head of the Irish mafia. Henry Gallagher started the Gallagher crime family, otherwise known as the Gallagher Clann. He’s the reason the family has spanned over two continents and is still getting stronger. He’s a man many rarely see, but he’s the most powerful man at the table.

I shake Henry's hand. "Connor O'Malley," I reply, my voice steady.

Henry's grip is firm, his eyes sharp as they assess me. "I've heard tales of your skills at the table. It seems they weren't exaggerating."

As Henry releases my hand, I can feel the weight of everyone's attention on us. This interaction hasn't gone unnoticed by anyone in the room.

The dealer announces the next hand, and we all turn our focus back to the game. As the cards are dealt, I can't help but feel a mixture of wariness and excitement. I've just won a significant pot, and with it being the first hand, it means that the curse could be in effect.

The curse is that if you win the first hand, you’ll lose every hand afterward. I’ve seen it happen to too many people. I’ve played against a hell of a lot of different poker players of different abilities, and it can still be the same for each of them. They win the first hand, and then they’re not winning again. Of course, I put it down to superstition. They begin to think about the so called curse and set themselves off, getting in their own heads and trying to chase a pot rather than play it. It’ll never work out that way.

I peek at my cards: Ace-Queen offsuit. A strong starting hand, but I know better than to get overconfident. In a game like this, with players of this caliber, anything can happen.

Lorenzo is first to act, and he comes out with a raise, three times the big blind. Tempest calls without hesitation, and I can see a silent communication pass between them. They might be friends, but they're not here to do each other any favors.

The action comes to me, and I take a moment to consider. After my big win in the last hand, I decide to sit this one out and just watch it play out.

As the hand plays out, I observe my opponents carefully. Lorenzo and Tempest seem to be locked in their own private battle, raising and re-raising each other. The flop comes Ace- high, and I can't help but feel a twinge of regret for folding my Ace-Queen. Still, I remind myself that patience is key in a game like this.

Pyro, having just re-bought, is playing more cautiously now. He folds to a hefty bet from Lorenzo on the turn. Henry Gallagher, however, has been quietly calling along, his face an unreadable mask.

The river brings a queen, completing a possible straight draw. Lorenzo fires out a massive bet, nearly his entire stack. Tempest folds almost immediately, a look of frustration flashing across his face.

All eyes turn to Henry. The old man takes his time, his gaze on the center of the table and unmoving. Finally, with a slight smile, he pushes his chips forward. "Call," he says quietly.

Lorenzo's face falls as Henry reveals his hand. He has the straight. He is holding king and queen. Lorenzo mucks his cards without revealing them, but the slump of his shoulders tells the story. He was full of shit.

Henry has just won a pot nearly as large as the one I took down in the first hand. The smile the old man had is now gone and his poker face is back in full effect.

Five hours later and it’s done. I’ve taken almost fifteen million. Tempest and Lorenzo both called it quits earlier on, having both been beaten, Lorenzo by me and Tempest by Pyro. They didn’t take the option to re-buy. Instead, they stayed close by and watched the game play out.

Jerry Houlihan, on the other hand, did take his option to re-buy, and he did so by re-buying in for double his original amount. He lost that within the space of an hour thanks to both Pyro and I taking him out.

Henry, however, was smart. He kept his cards close to his chest and didn’t let anyone know what his plan was. He cashed out when he lost a few million, but he left with some money.

Pyro cashed out with his buy-in—both of them—and called it quits, meaning I was the biggest winner of the night. Something that is a usual feat, but among the players I played tonight, it was a great night.

“You’re smart. Too smart for this shit,” Pyro tells me as we exit the casino. “You ever decide you want to make real money—not just poker winnings—you come find me.”

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued by his words. “And what’s real money to you?”

Pyro’s smile widens. “The kind that doesn’t rely on luck.”

I can't help but laugh. "Alright, Py, let me know what you've got planned."

“I’m looking for prospects," he says simply.

I turn to face him, wondering what he’s talking about.

"Prospects?" I ask, my interest piqued. "For the Fury Vipers?"

Pyro nods, his eyes gleaming in the dim light of the parking lot. "We're expanding and looking for smart, capable guys who can handle themselves. Someone like you could go far."

I consider his words carefully. It's not the first time I've been approached by one of these organizations. The money and power are tempting, but I've always kept myself at arm's length from the more illegal aspects of this world.

But this is the first time I’ve been offered something here at home in Dublin, where I’d be close to Gráinne.

“What does it entail? I don’t want to be dragged into illegal shit that’ll land me in jail.”

Pyro grins. “And what you’re doing at the tables won’t?” he asks, and I tilt my head to the side, conceding that he’s got a point. It’s illegal to play in an unsanctioned casino.

Pyro leans in closer, his voice low. "Look, we're not just some run-of-the-mill bike club. We've got our fingers in a lot of pies—some legit, some not so much. But we take care of our own. You'd start as a prospect and learn the ropes. After that, sky's the limit."

I run a hand through my hair, weighing my options. The poker world has been good to me, but I can't deny the allure of something more stable, more structured. And if I'm honest with myself, the thrill of the unknown is tempting.

"What about Lorcan?" I ask. "I can't just walk away from this." It’s too damn lucrative.

Pyro shrugs. "Lorcan's a businessman. He'll understand. Hell, he might even see it as an opportunity to expand his own operations. Hell, you’d still be able to play games, just as I did tonight. But you’ll do it wearing the colors of The Fury Vipers MC."

I nod slowly, my mind racing with possibilities. "I'll think about it," I say finally.

Pyro claps me on the shoulder. "That's all I ask. Here's my number," he says, handing me a card. "Give me a call when you've made up your mind."

As Pyro walks away, I turn the card over in my hands, feeling the weight of the decision before me. The familiar rush of adrenaline courses through my veins, but this time it's not from the thrill of the cards.

Can I do it? Can I prospect for the Fury Vipers?