The Player, The Thief and The Broken Heart - Chapter Seventy-Nine - In the Secret Room
Jimmy's shook as he was hauled down a service elevator, along some subbasement corridor, and into a dark room. A door slammed shut behind him. A blinding floodlight seared his eyes. He gawked past it like a deer on the road about to get hit by a truck. He couldn't tell whether there was anyone else in here. He'd heard legends about Casino basement rooms. He had never doubted their existence but he had also never believed he'd wind up in one himself.
Pain drilled into his shoulders as his hands were pinned against the small of his back. Cold steel cuffs were snapped around his wrists. A pair of hands gripped his arm and shoved him into a chair. It was one of those cheap old folding chairs, the kind they'd bring out to church picnics or busy auditoriums. The metal backrest dug into his flesh.
Jimmy squinted, trying in the glare to see the person holding the light at him. All he could hear was the sound of one set of feet tapping on the concrete floor. The man went to stand between Jimmy and the dazzling floodlight, creating a silhouette the size of a sumo wrestler.
"Your friends are still alive," a male voice said. Jimmy couldn't tell whether the speaker was the man standing in front of him or the man aiming the light at him. Assuming there was more than one other man in here. There had to be. "For now. Pretty girl, that Jeannie. You know her?"
Terror seized him and he struggled to breathe. Oh God, no. No! He slumped forward. Bile rose up into the back of his throat. He hadn't thought about Jeannie for hours. He'd forgotten she'd even be at the casino tonight. A hand yanked the scruff of his shirt collar, pulling him back upright.
"You should advise your girlfriends not to walk alone in parking lots late at night. They can be a dangerous place for a pretty girl."
His throat clenched and his eyes burned. Don't hurt her, please don't hurt her, oh please God, please. He'd been so stupid, so fucking stupid. Frank was right.
"Just let her go," he panted. He wanted to explode with fear and rage. "She had nothing to do with this." He struggled to stand and a massive hand with hairy knuckles forced him back down.
"Nothing to do with what, exactly?"
Jimmy heard a click that sounded like the hammer of a gun being pulled. Footsteps echoed on the bare concrete behind him. His eyes adjusted somewhat and he could see that there was more than one man in here with him. One was holding the light and the other was doing the talking. And a third man had just entered, armed.
"You know, when you go to rob a place," the gruff voice taunted, "the first thing you do is make sure to take care of EVERY camera you may have to pass by."
Fuck. Jimmy knew he'd screwed himself wandering around on those other floors on the way up to the penthouse. Never mind leaving that vent cover propped against the wall like that. Dumb, dumb, dumb. At the time he'd assumed he was going to be leaving the same way he'd come. He'd always known he was never cut out for a life of crime. But where had a straight job, where he thought he was playing it safe in life, ever gotten him.
"Now answer my question."
He closed his eyes, coloured dots pulsating in front of him in place of the light. Bracing himself for that first blow, he prayed to God either he'd get knocked out cold or it would be over with quick. Maybe they were bluffing about Jeannie, trying to scare him. Squeezing his eyes even tighter, he prayed that was the case.
"I don't know. Sir."
And he waited for that bullet to pierce his skull.