Chapter 1

I never liked guns. I find them distasteful, and in generally poor taste. It's a lazy man's way out, a coward's tool. A sword, knife, or even a stick requires you to accept the fact that you just may be injured in trying to cause harm to another. A gun? It's a distance tool, causing destruction with no consequence.

I particularly don't like guns when they're pointed at me.

The room was thrown into harsh light and shadows from the bare light bulb dangling from the ceiling. The man holding the gun was a mass of shadow, and the gun itself was only visible by the reflected light. I couldn't see down the barrel, but my imagination filled in the bullet I knew was facing towards me. I didn't like the gun, but it didn't terribly worry me.

George was a hired grunt; his gun was a tool of intimidation. Between the plodding mind and the finger it could order to pull the trigger, there was any number of things that could go wrong in his nervous system. Once the finger pulled the trigger, there was untold number of minor things that could still cause the gun to misfire, be discharged in the wrong direction, or for the bullet to happen to turn out to be a dud. Had George been a gun aficionado, my confidence in my safety might be reduced, but as it was, I was just slightly put out.

"I think our guest understands the seriousness of his situation," came the silky tones of Tony Saccardi, family man through and through. His manicured hand gently touched George's arm, and the trained monkey lowered his arm in response. I imagined the glower on George's face at having his fun ruined. Tony became visible as George stepped aside.

Where George loomed in shadow, Tony was standing far enough back that he could be easily seen; while I had cooperated from the moment George and one of his fellow goons had come to collect me, Tony was experienced enough to evade the possible spurts of blood from the unnecessary enthusiasm of his employees. His well-tailored suit nearly hid his increasing paunch, but I took distinct pleasure in noticing that Tony's hair was slightly mussed.

"Well, William, what are you going to do to make this right?"

"Well, it would help if I knew what was wrong," I answered. I had had some dealings with Tony before, but usually to our mutual advantage. Given George's presence, I knew something was wrong, but I wasn't too concerned. The threatened bullet would never touch me, and I was protected from more mundane bludgeoning as well.

Apparently my answer was too flippant, as Tony's eyes sparked briefly in anger. "You might play dumb, but I know better, William. You betrayed my family."

Now I was lost completely lost. Gambling sometimes introduced debts, but I kept a fairly positive balance sheet for a reason. I knew the Italian place I had been delivered to, but had never been "invited" to the back room before. I had worked for and with the Saccardi family and its associates on a few more interesting bets, but betrayal? That was a risky prospect.

Tony was growing impatient as I failed to immediately confess my sorrow. "William, William, William. You must know by now that I am not a patient man."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Saccardi," I started groveling. "I'm not sure what I did wrong, but I assure you it wasn't intended to cause any harm--"

"Not cause harm? Billy -- can I call you Billy? -- Billy, you have caused a great deal of harm to my family's finances. I know you know that I take my family's financial situation very, very seriously." Tony started gesturing to George. Even if it wouldn't hurt, I didn't terribly much want to get hit.

"Mr. Saccardi, let me make it right; I can fix it, you know I can fix it," I said quickly; I wasn't panicked, but I really wish I knew what "it" was.

Tony ceased his gesturing just as the lummox in the corner started forward. There was a noticeable delay before George realized that his master no longer wanted him to come forward. "How, exactly, will you make it up to me? To us? My wife is crying as we speak!"

Given that Tony spent less time with his wife than with his mistress, I didn't really consider the last much of a problem. The rest might be, however. "I'll make it up to you by the end of the week."

"All of it?"

"All of it." I wasn't too concerned about the threatened beating, but Tony Saccardi and his goons could make living in Vegas much more unpleasant. A bit of work, a few hours in a casino, and I could pay back almost any perceived debt I might owe the Saccardi family.

Tony stepped back, a thoughtful look on his face. I knew he would take the deal; one more dead gambler wouldn't gain him anything, no matter what his claims, but money was a great motivator. Pondering it would presumably make me think my life was worth less; it wasn't working, but I'd let him play his game. After all, it was his show, and I was just a convenient guest star.

"Today is Monday, Billy. I want the full amount repaid by Wednesday."

I gaped visibly; that line surprised me. The amount of money couldn't be that significant; I never had that substantial a dealing with the Saccardi family.

"Ah, I have your attention. Your flippancy is annoying, Billy," Tony continued, clearly pleased at surprising me. "You have until Wednesday at noon. I expect the full amount, in cash or bank check, surprise me. Otherwise, well, things will be... unpleasant, you understand?"

"Of course, Mr. Saccardi." I may not have known what I had done wrong, but I knew the way the game was played. I didn't understand what was going on, but I always got by. "May I ask one question, please, Mr. Saccardi?"

Tony turned from departing the room. He was clearly done with me, having put the fear of the Family in me. "What?"

"How much do I owe?"

Tony's face went positively livid; I still was lost on what I had done wrong, but it was apparently very bad.

"George, please remind Billy here that he shouldn't be disrespectful to his betters."

George moved fast for such a large man. He was a softly-featured blob across the room, well-tailored suit still somehow appearing to be stuffed uncomfortably full of human. Then the space between heart beats later and his massive hand was slamming into my chest, then again from the other side. I fell off the chair from the force of the blow.

I collapsed to the ground, breathing hard in shock.

George had melted back across the room. Tony was standing framed in the door, the bright lights of the kitchen outlining him. "Five hundred thousand dollars. Noon on Wednesday." Tony turned and walked out, George following.

The five hundred thousand dollar debt didn't concern me overmuch; the pounding from George did. The gold coin strung on a chain weighed heavily on my neck, and I could feel the coin touching against my bare skin. It had kept me safe for three years, until tonight.