Free Watcher by Grace Monroe

with judges, football players, businessmen and wealthy tourists, all desperate to get a last bit of freedom before being shackled to their families for Christmas. I craned my neck looking around for someone – a friend, an acquaintance, but there was no one, so I turned my attention to the tables. I knew that Joe was probably watching me on the surveillance system. The clientele watched me too as I walked around. I contravened every dress code the casino had – my leathers were filthy, still covered in midges from the summer, but the pliable leather clung to my arse in what I’d told myself was a most appealing way. Maybe that would distract them all and I’d walk out of here a millionaire.
    Pulling out a chair, I joined the poker table playing Texas Hold ’Em. In for a penny, I thought as I took my jacket off too. I wasn’t wearing a bra because I hadn’t exactly dressed up when I left the flat, and the only one that wasn’t grey was lying on the bedroom floor after Jack had taken it off me, but maybe that was a good thing – more distraction for the saddos around the table.
    I kept my face blank as I clasped my cards up from the table. Pocket-Rockets – a couple of aces. I was in good shape. The player across from me, in a bespoke evening suit, white tie, and with the obligatory female companion looking over his shoulder, chucked another grand into the pot. The dealer knew my credit was good at his table, so I decided to play on – thirty minutes with Bancho had reminded me to live for today, but I’d make this my last hand, win or lose. To my surprise, the other player at the table raised too. His toe tapped constantly, he wore a cowboy hat and was difficult to read. In spite of his porky butcher’s fingers, he shuffled his chips deftly.
    ‘Two thousand more,’ he said, evening off the two stacks of black chips and pushing them into the pot. It was the right bet and it should have scared the third player away. Unfortunately for him, the third player was me and I was just riled.
    ‘I’m in,’ I said, pushing one pile of eight black chips into the pot.
    ‘You’re bluffing,’ the fat cowboy puffed, gulping air as his eyes flicked over me.
    ‘Play and see,’ I shrugged. I was sure that Joe would be laughing out loud if he was watching. The fat man looked convinced that all he had to do was push in his remaining chips, and he’d take the hand.
    ‘Yours,’ he snorted, flicking his cards over. A pair of sixes.
    ‘You were right,’ I told him as I flicked over my two aces. A roar went up as the dealer pushed a mountain of chips my way.
    A bit of luck at last – I wondered how long it would hang around for?

Chapter Fourteen
     
     
    Danube Street Casino, Edinburgh
Sunday 23 December, 4.40 a.m.
    Glasgow Joe leaned in to kiss me as he stopped to check that I was all right. The money in my pocket made everything all right. He swept me up and turned me round as I threw the cash in the air. The notes whirled around us like a snowstorm – I was Kailash’s daughter. I knew how to put on a good show for the punters.
    Bancho came out of the security room. With only an hour to go before his planned raid he was edgy. The smile slid from my face, and I bent down to pick up the notes, carefully collecting them and putting them in the old wallet.
    ‘Get Kailash,’ barked Bancho. ‘I want to see the dungeons – rumour is that she’s got slaves.’
    ‘Arsehole – come back with a warrant,’ I hissed.
    ‘What does Kailash want?’ Joe turned around to find her. She was leaning against a colonnade, her jet hair curled expensively around her shoulders, and a sheer black Dolce&Gabbana dress clinging to every curve.
    ‘I’ve never denied owning slaves, Duncan, but there’s quite a waiting list. See Malcolm; he’ll put your name down.’ I was jumping from foot to foot, but Kailash locked eyes with me and it was a look that told me to calm down. ‘There are a lot of exhibitionists in tonight – the thrill