Wolf's Deal: A Nick Lupo Novella (The Nick Lupo Series) by W.D. Gagliani Page A

by the colors and the pictures of fruit and the words BAR or
BAR BAR or BAR BAR BAR flashing by until they all stopped, and nothing
happened. Nothing, that is, except that one was subtracted from her total of
eighty.
    Well, that was fast , she thought. She pushed the button again, watched as the cylinders
spun, stylized fruit and strange little icons rolling until they all stopped
and no two matched. Another single number was subtracted from her total. Loser, again .
    Almost
without realizing it, her hand reached out and smacked the button once more as
if she had decided to deny the reality of loss. The cylinders spun crazily as
she blinked, trying to freeze them in place with a glance, and this time the
words BAR BAR faced her from all three cylinder windows. The music’s volume
increased, lights flashed, and she watched the red numbers increase by twenty. Ninety-eight! She’d won!
    She glanced
around. No one was looking at her, but she felt the flush of an unexpected
excitement creeping up on her face.
    For a
moment, she forgot that she wanted to find Nick.
    Instead, she
reached out for the button and pressed it again.
    What are these other buttons? she wondered. Bet Max , Cash Out .
    Again, she
forgot about Nick.
    She reached
out and touched the button. It was warm. She pushed it.

 
 
    THE ARCHER

 
    He’d
followed the cop he’d seen talking to the extraordinary beauty, but that guy
had joined a group of casino “kops” and they’d shuffled around as a group, then
breaking up to head in different directions. He’d been forced to make a quick
decision. He wanted it to be perfect, but maybe he was expecting too much of
himself.
    He followed
two cops as they stalked the aisles, looking for him . They had no idea what he looked like, and in fact even if he
happened to have returned, but they were giving it their best effort. He
grinned and played eeny-meeny-miney-moe.
    Which one would it be?
    He was torn,
but the itch to do something was growing. It was a strong sensation. He wanted
the crossbow in his hands.
    But then he
doubled back and saw that the mysterious woman had propped her amazing ass in
front of a slot machine and seemed lost there, as if she’d never seen one
before.
    He stared at
the woman’s back for a minute, lost in thought.
    Choices…
    He spotted
one of the cops returning, apparently having broken away from the group that
had stalked off toward the outer perimeter of the casino proper. The guy had
just spoken to the same cop who’d hobnobbed with the maybe-reporter chick.
Clearly they were both cops, here to canvass or whatever the fuck they did as
they searched for The Archer.
    As they
searched for him .
    He liked
feeling important. He wondered what the TV news was saying about him. Had CNN
caught on yet? Had he gone national?
    This might do it…
    The cop he
was following ducked into one of many arched restroom entrances that dotted the
outer walls of the big shed-like casino. It was still early morning, so The
Archer threw caution to the wind (he’d always wanted to say that) and followed
the slender guy through into a long and narrow, dark marble-lined room with a
dozen urinals along one wall, and a half-dozen stalls beyond that, with sinks
and mirrors opposite. It was one of the casino’s smaller bathroom facilities,
and as he’d expected it was empty. He just glimpsed the cop disappearing into
one of the stalls.
    How perfect is that?
    The Archer
was working on instinct now, instinct and adrenaline.
    And inspiration.
    His next
target had to be a newschick. He had convinced himself that it would be his
best statement now, at this point in his spree. And they were so smug, always
looking so perfect on camera. They were so self-involved, he doubted they even
understood the stories they read in their breathless tone, winking at the lens.
He thought furiously. He wanted to play it just right, get on the news in just
the right way. If that excellent example of a reporter-type was his