PROLOGUE

Las Vegas, Nevada

Tension was rising around the table. Nervous glances were exchanged with unknown faces. Poker chips rattled, as they were stacked on top of each other, in quick, rhythmic succession, while the players on the table looked for frowns of a weak hand, or the concealed glee of a royal flush. No such luck. All faces were poker faces. No emotions whatsoever. Cameras turned overhead as they surveyed the casino, giving eyes to the officials who watched each and every move the card players were making, nestled in an isolated, hidden computer room. Sun-glassed guards were watching, stone-faced, keeping their eyes peeled for any card-counters and other forms of cheaters. Security was extremely tight in the casino of the Las Vegas Hotel. But it was not enough.

Looks like the guy next to you is trying to make a full house. Watch out for him: his smile isn't a bluff," a disembodied voice crackled through the near-invisible earpiece attached to the seemingly innocent man sitting on the table. His pale, blue eyes held absolutely no worries, which was less than could be said for his fellow betters. He gradually turned to the man beside him, the one the voice was indicating, and offered him a sly smile. He received an ugly scowl in return.

Nice. Let him know you're on to him and get kicked out! Just tone it down a bit!" The voice belonged to Michael Reid, standing two tables away, pretending to be interested in a nearby game, and occasionally sipping a glass of red wine. In reality, he was watching the events unfold in the high-stakes poker game, where his new accomplice was fiddling with his chips, trying to act nervous.

It had been Michael's idea to try to win big, so they could buy something for their ladies. The tag team had just met outside of the casino entrance; Michael was with his wife, Samantha and Pete Castello (the poker player) with his wife Lola. They had a few things in common: Both had a beautiful wife on their hands and were both at the hotel for a fun and wild night. They had immediately clicked. The men went off to the casino while the women decided to go to a nightclub not too far off from the hotel. Due to Michael's amazing card counting ability, he was able to approximate the cards each player was trying to pick up, judging by the amount of cards in the pot, and the cards already shown on the table. But he couldn't pull it off by himself: he'd been banned from many casinos within the Las Vegas borders, because of his talent and his inability to hide it and use it wisely. With another person added into the equation, he was able to judge what type of cards the players had, and what they planned to make of them, while keeping in a comfortable position away from the actual game, under the radar of the security guards and the cameras. Michael smiled inwardly. He had wanted a wild night, away from the kids, and look at what he had got! They had already won $100,000! If they held out just a little longer they would be living large! Don't get too cocky, he thought to himself. He quickly turned his attention back to the game.

The last card had been dealt. It was now Castello's turn to bet. He some of his chips together and placed them into the middle of the table.

"All in," he stated confidently, as he pushed the rest of his chips into the pot. Varying degrees of barely-concealed looks of disbelief and astonishment were shared between the four remaining players. Hell, it even took Michael all of his willpower to stop himself from storming over to Castello and throttling some sense into him.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at?!" Michael angrily whispered into his concealed mike, tucked away in the pocket of his tux." This was not part of the plan. It's too early to go all in. You're going to lose us all of our money!"

Castello was acting as if the faces openly staring at him didn't exist, as if Michael's voice ringing in his ear was merely a nearly inaudible buzz. He acted like he was above it all. Meanwhile, a man with fake aviator glasses and a fake Rolex placed in all of his chips as well and declared he was calling Castello's 'all in'. The man with the glasses was also the one with a high probability of making a full house. The next guy reluctantly folded, and threw his cards on the table in disgust. 'Lucky him, Michael thought. At least he gets to keep what's left of his dignity.'

The petite woman was next. She said her name was Julie. She didn't look like much of a threat, but she could bluff her way out of anything. Her façade, however, never fooled Michael, and she had lost a fair amount of money because of that. Yet, she still called, placing all of her chips into the middle. They all stared at the remaining player. With a grin almost as big as Castello's, he placed all of his coins into the middle.

Eager to show his brilliance, Fake Rolex showed his five cards, revealing 4 Queens and a Jack. A full house. Exactly what Michael had expected? Julie furiously threw her cards down. A minor two pair. Castello waited politely for the last person to show his cards. He showed his cards. 3 of a kind. Castello sighed and shook his head.

"Oh yeah baby! Come to momma" Fake Rolex shouted in triumph, taking Castello's sigh as a sigh of defeat, gathering all the chips and pulling them towards him.

"Not so fast, man," said Castello, and revealed his hand. Michael stared in amazement at the cards. Gasps were heard from the crowd around the table. A 10 of Hearts, a Jack of Hearts, a Queen of Hearts, a King of Hearts and an Ace of Hearts. The royal flush.

"That is just… It's not possible," the flabbergasted Fake Rolex decided.

"Oh, but it is. So I'll be taking those chips." Pete reached for the chips and gathered them towards him. There was more than $100,000 worth of chips in front of Castello. Michael could just taste the expensive wine they were going to taste to celebrate their amazing triumph.

After their big win, they exchanged the chips for money and went up to Michael's suite, where they found Samantha Reid puking her guts out into the toilet, giggling between each upchuck, being consoled by a surprisingly sober Lola Castello.

"So, how was the club?" Michael grinned at the two ladies.

"Some guys offered to buy us drinks. Samantha didn't want to turn them down," explained Lola.

"Well, we shouldn't let Samantha be he odd one out." Pete reached for the phone and called room service, ordering 12 bottles of red wine. It arrived in a matter of seconds. Pete then poured the wine into three glasses and gave two out to Pete and Lola.

Raising his own glass Pete declared a toast." Possiate tutti vivere una vita lunga e felice. May you all live long and happy lives."

"Who knew Pete could actually lie!" shouted a thoroughly drunk Lola, rubbing Pete's arm. "I wouldn't want to be on the other side of his bluffs!"

After the first sip of wine, the rest of the evening went by in an array of distorted shapes and images. And that was before Castello had offered the marijuana. Now, Pete, Lola and Samantha were playing Blackjack on the floor with the TV blaring loud rap music from an unknown music channel. Michael was out on the terrace; shouting at the top of his lungs about God knew what, earning him several disapproving glares from below.

Pete got up from him kneeling position on the floor and went to bring Michael into the room before his loud ramblings got the cops on them. They were now all in the large hotel room. Slowly, Lola got up and made her way towards Michael. Once she got to him, she gently kissed Michael on the lips. Michael let out a moan and kissed her back. The two of them moved towards the bathroom, never breaking apart, and went inside, slamming the door behind them.

There was just Pete and Samantha left in the room.

"Man, I thought they'd never leave!" said Pete, receiving a high-pitched, drug induced giggle from Samantha." He sat down opposite her. "Now, we can finally be alone," he seductively whispered in her ear. As she turned her head towards Pete, eyes closed, ready for his soft kiss, Pete drew closer to her, until their lips were almost touching. "This is going to be fun."

"I ag-." She never got to finish her sentence. With a sickening jerk, Pete pulled the knife out of her neck and watched her blood flow out in grotesque awe, admiring his artwork.

Samantha tried to call for Michael, to try to tell him something was wrong, but it was no use. The words wouldn't come out of her mouth. Pete calmly walked over to Samantha and laid her on the bed, covering her mouth to make sure any lost words could not escape. His hands slowly found their way to her throat. He began to squeeze the life out of her bloody body. He gave a cold laugh as she tried to shake him off her. He loved it when they put up a fight. It made the kill more exciting. His grip hardened. He stared as the life went out of Samantha Reid's eyes. Finally, her head lolled to the side. Pete got off his kill and went over to the bathroom. He knocked on the door.

We're a little busy at the moment," came Michael's voice from behind the door. Suddenly the door burst open. Lola petite frame became more distinct as she went over to Pete and faithfully stood by his side. Michael took in the horrific scene before: His beautiful wife, Samantha, lying dead on the bed, the sheets stained with her blood; Pete's ragged breath, and the cold, malicious glint in his eyes. Even though Michael's brain wasn't at it's best, he could still piece together the facts. He came to a conclusion: they had been played.

"Come on, you guys, we can work this out. If it's money you want then you can keep what we got from the casino!" Michael tried to reason with his wife's killer. Lola game Michael a cool smile and watched with delight as Pete subjected Michael to the same treatment as his wife. Only this time, Lola dragged the body over to the bed then placed him on the edge of it, so that he was in a sitting position on the edge of the bed, beside his wife's feet. Lola got to work. A few minutes later, the young couple were in position. Lola and Pete Castello admired their handiwork.

"I'd say this is our finest piece yet, Sylvia," said a delighted Pete.

"We even got a cash bonus!" beamed Sylvia Bennet. She had been using an alias (Lola) all night, as well as Pete, who's real name was Chris Bennet. "To bad it always has to end."

"After we wash up we just need to pack our bags and head somewhere else. You get to choose this time sweetie!"

"Finally, it's my turn! You can shower first. There are still some little adjustments to be made." Sylvia concentrated on the couple before her. With a sadistic grin almost as wide as the slit in Michael's throat, she began to prepare the crime scene.

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