The noise of the crowded casino was deafening, but some languages are universal. Like the way Maddi slung herself over the man, her chest pushed up against his back as he leaned over the roulette table. She swallowed back a gag at the stench of the pack a day smoker she’d sought out.
Despite having never met the target she knew every vital that the Feds could scrounge up on him. Tonight was a rare night, and they’d worked hard to get him at the point he’d enter a casino to personally launder some of those counterfeit bills he’d mastered.
He was up twenty Gs. He tapped his fingers nervously on the table, bouncing his knee at the same time. The two beats made a slurred rhythm.
“I liiike winners.” The seat she hopped into had a vague stickiness that was gummy against her thighs where her dress ended. “I’m Maddi.” The martini in her hand sloshed dangerously close to spilling with her exaggerated sways.
“Nathan!” He thrust out a hand. It was sweaty, too sweaty really, but it was predictable, if his collar was any indication.
She bumped against him sloppily, pushing forward just a little more. “Naaaathaaan. You must be really good at this game!”
His grin widened as his eyes struggled to stay focused on one part of her. “I… guess I’m just lucky!”
“Why don’t we take this somewhere more private?” She whispered, trying to not breathe him in.
The over-eager glint in his eye was all the answer she needed to head for the hotel hallway. Plastic casino chips clinked together in a rush as Nathan feverishly dumped them into his pockets in hot pursuit.
“So mister high-roller, what does a winner like you do for fun?” Her hips swayed in time with each tug of his tie as she drew him down the hall. The din of the main room became more muffled with every fated step he took.
“I uhh… Well,” he licked his lips. “I like what’s happening right now.”
Her lacquered fingertips dipped down into his breast pocket, pulling out his hotel room key with two fingers. Room 226.
“Are you going to invite me into your room, Naaathan?”
“I don’t know, can I trust you?”
She smiled beguilingly. “Trust me to what?” The room lock beeped as she slipped past the door. “Not steal your winnings? Oh, I’m not here for that!” Another giggled melted his reservations as she kicked off her heels just inside the suite.
Nathan’s clammy fingers slid up her sides, flipping the sequins of her dress as his hands crept higher. She guided him, careful to keep them from drifting too close to her shoulder blades before she freed the pistol from it’s fashion tape holster. The body-warmed metal fit into her palm perfectly, if not a little slick.
“You asked me if you could trust me.” He was stupid drunk. He was about to sober up. “You can’t.” Maddi pressed the pistol to his temple.