by Luke Murphy
“Goodbye, Mr. Baxter. I’ll be in touch when I require your valuable skills again.”
“Oh, you’ll be seeing me before that. I’m not done with Watters yet.”
Shawn hung up. He leaned back in his father’s Herman Miller Aeron, graphite-framed chair, rested his feet on his father’s Mayline Corsica six-foot office desk and smoked one of his father’s Cuban Double Corona cigars.
Linda had been the key. He’d made sure to send her to that Casino Owner conference in Atlantic City last year to lure in Sanders with their “chance meeting.”
Shawn had to admit that Linda was a piece of work and a great piece of ass. He might even miss her…a little. Sanders and his father had no idea that it was actually he and Linda playing them. Sanders, the idiot, thought he was a mastermind. They’d manipulated him in various ways for the fun of it.
In a little more than a week, Shawn had taken out every threat and only Sanders was going to prison.
His dad should have tried to work things out, instead of leaving them for the glitz and glamour and that slut Linda.
It was the changes his father had made in his will that had seriously bothered Shawn, because they meant that if Linda was still married to Doug at the time of his death, her share of his estate would include part ownership of the Greek and the freedom to sell that share to anyone she wanted. Either way, if his father died first, Shawn would be stuck with a partner outside the family and he knew how much disruption such a partner could cause if they chose to, even without having voting stock.
All existing problems had been eliminated and Shawn, with a clear mind, could now focus on the next steps. He would buy the shares from Melanie and his mother, even though he controlled theirs by proxy, giving him one-hundred percent voting control and almost eighty-eight percent ownership. All that was left was the part ownership share that Sanders had bought from Linda.
With Sanders sure to go to prison for the rest of his life, he’d be forced to sell his share and Shawn would make sure he was the final buyer regardless of cost. It was the one-hundred percent ownership that mattered the most. Combined with his total voting control, he’d be able to rule the Greek like an emperor.
Shawn Grant was on top of the world.
Epilogue
Monday morning, Calvin woke up rested and happy, having just had the first real, dreamless sleep in a long time.
He’d beaten Baxter just over a week ago and he still couldn’t believe that he was able to win over such a competitor. The healing was not complete, but the doctors were amazed at his speedy recovery.
Last night, after taking all the medication he’d been prescribed, he’d gone to bed early with Rachel. They had nothing to fear and few worries, a brand new prelude to making love for them.
For the first time in four years, because of the doctor’s strong meds, he’d been able to sleep with little pain. He looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand next to him and turned it off.
He set his head back down on the pillow and closed his eyes. A wide grin appeared on his face. He’d been smiling a lot of late and had a lot to smile about. But he needed to get moving so he wouldn’t be late for the start of one of the most important days in his life.
He and Dale lived by the same creed—do your best. After that, whatever happened was what it was and whether he was continuing from the top or near the bottom, Calvin knew he would persevere and never quit again.
Energized with excitement and determination, he sat up on the edge of his bed and stretched his side. He twisted his midsection and rubbed the large scar on his shoulder that was slowly beginning to form. It would always be a physical reminder and memory of that night, but only that.
He rose and checked the stability of his knee. After the way he’d pushed his body from that Wednesday evening when he’d learned of Grant’s death, through Saturday night, including that pursuit of Baxter, his knee had a lot of new injuries to recover from. He planned to start physical therapy in a week and when his body was ready, resume his grueling daily exercise regimen in small doses.
He laughed. I want to be Superman again.
The bathroom door opened and Rachel stepped out.
His eyes bulged. “Wow, Rachel. You’re stunning.”
Rachel did a little pirouette and smiled.
She wore a new, dark-colored Armani suit and her hair, dyed back to its natural straw color, was cut short to reveal her high cheekbones and strong jaw. She sported black-framed glasses that gave her an intellectual look. Her face displayed just enough makeup, but not too much.
Calvin had always thought of Rachel as beautiful, in her heart and physically, but he was amazed by how radiantly beautiful she looked now. More than ever, she looked like the All-American beauty she’d always been to him.
“Can you believe this place?” Rachel spread her arms out wide.
He smiled. “Yeah, it is pretty amazing.” They had just moved in yesterday, so the apartment was still by no means fully furnished. It wasn’t upscale Vegas, but it was a definite upgrade from his last apartment. “You’re up early.”
“This is a big day for me, for us. Did you ever think, even a few days ago, that we’d be here now?”
“No.” It was true. That he and Rachel had come this far together as lovers and were now here, even more together, as they shared their love was still a dream to him. The new lives together he’d envisioned for them before had been realistic, not the dreamlike quality they both felt so strongly now.
Calvin sighed.
“What’s wrong?” Rachel asked.
“I’m a bit nervous.”
“You’ve never been nervous about anything in your life.”
“But this is all so new for me. What if I fail?”
She put her hands on her hips. “Calvin Watters, have you ever failed at anything in your life?”
He smirked.
“I didn’t think so. Now get in that shower.”
He saluted with a mock grin. “Yes, ma’am.” He started to move, then hesitated. “How about a quickie for good luck?”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “In your dreams. Move!”
He jogged into the bathroom, giving her a flirtatious slap on the backside on the way by.
They left the apartment and jumped into their new vehicle, a second-hand Ford Escape—the vehicle Rachel had picked out since Calvin’s car had been confiscated. He followed the directions he’d been given and saw Dale and Jimmy standing outside their parked cruiser.
As he strode toward them, Calvin put his hand out, but Dale batted it away, giving him a hearty hug instead, which Calvin was happy to return. When they separated, Jimmy stepped forward, shaking Calvin’s hand.
“Another smooth lookin’ suit, Calvin,” Jimmy said. “You have great taste, Rachel.”
She flashed a grin. “Thank you, Detectives. It’s so nice to see you again. Especially here.”
Calvin looked at Dale. They shared a special bond, as deep as the one between Dale and Jimmy.
Dale motioned toward the big building. “It’s not much, but we knew your budget. The rent’s affordable and it’s in a decent part of town. We prioritized getting the office ready so you could open for business right away and we’ve had it somewhat furnished. But I’m sure you and especially Rachel will want to put your own personal touches on it. I’m sorry we couldn’t do more for you, Calvin.”
“What do you mean?”
“What you put yourself through. I’m sorry the department couldn’t compensate you in some way for the work you did.”
“I didn’t do what I did for money or a reward. You’ve given me…us—” he put his arm around Rachel “—our lives back. The fact that the four of us became friends is a bonus.”
Dale didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.
“Have you registered for training yet?” Jimmy asked.
Calvin nodded. “I’ve signed up online and I start next week. I’m taking the complete package—interviewing skills, fraud and insurance inv
estigations, surveillance and criminal investigations. I can have my PI degree in eighteen months. But legally I’m allowed to practice, as long as there’s proof I’m in session. I have up to three years to acquire my license.”
“That sounds great. I know you’ll do it. Like everything else you attempt.”
Rachel elbowed Calvin’s ribs. “See.”
“Well, I’m sure you want to have a look,” Dale said. “As promised, once your business is set up and running, we’ll send as much work as we can your way. Let us know when you apply for your PI license.”
“Good luck to both of you,” Jimmy said. “You deserve what you have now and we couldn’t be happier for you.”
With that, the veteran partners turned and got into their vehicle.
As they drove away, Calvin glanced at Rachel. “Are you ready?”
She took a deep breath. “I’m right behind you, Mr. Calvin Watters, PI. It sounds just right.”
He could only smile.
♣
Message from the Author
Dear Reader,
Thank you for picking up a copy of Dead Man’s Hand. I hope you enjoyed reading this novel as much as I did writing it. My goal was to please anyone who loves thrillers, sports, or a walk on the wilder side of Las Vegas. I hope that I succeeded.
According to Wikipedia, “The dead man’s hand is a Two-pair Poker Hand, namely ‘aces and eights.’ This card combination gets its name from a legend that it was the five-card-draw hand held by Wild Bill Hickok, when he was murdered on August 2, 1876, in Saloon No. 10 at Deadwood, South Dakota.”
This is a work of fiction. I did not base the characters or plot on any real people or events. Any familiarities are strictly coincidence.
There is not a single moment in time when this idea came to be, but circumstances over the years that led to this story: my hockey injuries, frequent visits to Las Vegas, my love of football, crime books and movies.
Dead Man’s Hand became real from mixing these events, taking advantage of experts in their field and adding my wild imagination. The internet also provides a wealth of information, available at our fingertips with a click of the mouse.
For more information about my books, please visit my website at www.authorlukemurphy.com. You can also “like” my Facebook page www.facebook.com/pages/Author-Luke-Murphy and follow me on Twitter at www.twitter.com/#!/AuthorLMurphy.
I’m always happy to hear from readers. Please be assured that I read each email personally and will respond to them in good time. I’m always happy to give advice to aspiring writers, or answer questions from readers. You can direct your questions/comments to the contact form on my website. Please let me know what you thought of the book. I look forward to hearing from you.
Regards,
Luke
About the Author
Luke Murphy was born in Shawville, a small rural community in Western Quebec.
He played six years of professional hockey before retiring in 2006.
His road to novelist began in the winter of 2000, after sustaining a season ending eye injury. He continued to hobby write through the years, honing his craft, making time between work and family obligations.
He constantly read, from novels in his favorite genres to books written by experts in the writing field. He made friends (published and unpublished authors), learning what it took to become successful.
Feeling that he was finally prepared, in the winter of 2007, Murphy started to write Dead Man’s Hand. It took him two years to complete the first draft of his novel.
He hired Ms. Jennifer Lyons, of the Jennifer Lyons Literary Agency, and in 2012, signed his first publishing contract with Imajin Books.
Murphy lives in Shawville with his wife, two daughters and a pug. He is a teacher who holds a Bachelor of Science degree in Marketing, and a Bachelor of Education (Magna Cum Laude).
For more information on Luke’s books, visit: www.authorlukemurphy.com and join his Facebook page and Twitter account.
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