Dead Man's Hand

His pulse quickened, but he said nothing. He headed to the back.

“Hey, Don.” Calvin nodded at his boss.

Pitt looked up from his computer. “Where the hell have you been?”

“What? I never punched a clock before.”

“Sorry. Tough morning. I have nothing for you yet today.”

“What about my cut on Pierce? I know he paid you in full this morning.”

“What? No, he hasn’t. Well…he paid part of it.”

Calvin put out his hand. “Stop there. I don’t want to hear it. I got his attention the other night, told him to pay you this morning and I know he did, so stop trying to hold on to my money.”

Pitt started protesting and he cut him off. “Now.” Calvin leaned forward and glared into Pitt’s piggy eyes. “He owed you $20,000 and I want $4,000 in my hands within the next minute.”

Pitt sighed. “Not you too. What a morning.”

“Me too? What do you mean? Who else was in here?”

“No one. Never mind. I’m too tired to argue with you. You’re right anyway. Dixie said Pierce limped in this morning before I arrived and paid it all.” Pitt smiled. “I guess he got the message.”

“My money, Don.”

“All right. Calm down. I’ll get your money.” Pitt disappeared into the back of his office and returned with a large envelope. “Here’s your $4,000. Count it if you want. You finished?”

“No. You still owe me $6,000 from the job before that. Harry Walker. Five days ago. I know he paid too, because if he hadn’t, you’d have already sent me back to see him. I want everything settled before I leave the office this morning, so don’t even waste your breath. Just get my money.”

Pitt sighed and raised his hands, then dropped them to his side. He went into the back again and brought Calvin a larger envelope and sat down.

Calvin stuffed both envelopes into the deep pockets of his jacket. “I’m not counting now. I’ll do that later. If anything’s missing, I’m coming back to collect from you. And what Pierce received will seem like a slap on the wrist.”

“What’s gotten you in such a bad mood? You forget to take your meds?”

Calvin lunged across the desk as Pitt sprung back, his chair striking the wall hard.

Pitt raised his hands in a defensive posture. “Whoa! Just kidding. Loosen up. You got your money. Go. I’ll call you when I need you for the next job.”

“That’s what we have to talk about.”

“I’m tired of talking. Let’s do that another time.” Pitt turned his back to Calvin and began typing on the computer keyboard. But Calvin stood still and stared, thinking about when he and Pitt had first met.

After his humiliating injury, he’d moved to Vegas to start over. He had no contacts, no money and no prospects. He was feeling sorry for himself and blamed everyone else for his situation.

His first night in the new city, Calvin had gotten drunk in a local pub, started a fight and beat up two customers, a bartender and two bouncers. Pitt saw the fight and even went to court to vouch for Calvin, saying he acted in self-defense—a total lie. One of the bouncers had gone to the local ER. A severe concussion, Calvin had heard. He could have gone to jail.

“I like your style,” Pitt had said.

When the man asked Calvin to collect for him and showed him the money, Calvin figured he owed the bookie. Besides, no other offers were that good. And even though he hated the collecting job now, he was still somewhat proud to be the best. Pitt’s rate of return had been 100 percent since Calvin had taken over.

“I thought you were leaving.” Pitt scowled. “What’s your problem today?”

“I want out.”

“What do you mean, out?” Pitt said in an icy tone.

“That’s it. I’m done.”

“Oh, really?” Pitt got up, walked around the desk and sat on the edge of it, folding his arms across his chest. “Tell me, what is it you plan to do?”

“I don’t know yet.” He thought about the ways he could hurt Pitt. But that would be a bad move.

“Of course you don’t, because you can’t do anything else. You don’t have a degree, you have one knee and you look like a bum.”

He took deep breaths and did a slow mental count to calm down.

Pitt continued. “Remember when I found you? You had nothing. No job. No money. No home. Nobody! I saved you. I was the only one there for you. I saved your ass from the slammer. You owe me.”

“I don’t owe you shit. I paid that debt off long ago.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. When you had nothing else, I offered you twenty percent of every collection, in cash. More money than you could ever dream of, with the shape you were in. I turned you into the perfect collecting machine, an intimidating giant with a psychopath’s lack of emotion and the capacity to be a madman when the job required that kind of terror. Did you forget that?”

Calvin shook his head. “You came to me.”

“That’s right. I did. I thought that an angry football star was perfect for the job and I was right.”

“I should have listened to my brother when he tried to talk me out of it.”

Pitt grunted. “Your brother. A lousy L.A. detective. I hate cops. I don’t trust ‘em.”

“Josh just made detective first grade—a real job. He tried to warn me, but I was too stubborn to listen. I’m sick of this.”

“Tell me…” Pitt smiled and Calvin would have liked to remove it. “Just how much money has Joshua made over the last three years?”

“Not everything is about money.”

“Maybe so, but I haven’t seen much that money can’t buy.”

“There’s more to life.” Calvin shrugged. “Like being happy.”

Pitt wiped his eyes in mock sympathy. “Ah, gee. The leg breaker isn’t happy. I’m all choked up.”

“I want out now. We’re all square on what you owe me. I’m finished.”

“Well, you can’t just walk out, Calvin. You’ve been torturing people for years and they put people in jail for that. When I wanted deadbeats terrified of you that was one thing. But let’s say that now I decide to get some of the deadbeats to go to the police and press charges against you. At first you were an asset, but maybe now you’ve gotten out of control.”

Calvin lost it. With both hands, he grabbed Pitt by the collar and slammed him against the wall, which cracked behind Pitt’s shoulders.

“Listen to me, you son of a bitch,” he said between gritted teeth. “I’m leaving this business. Understand?”

The Adam’s apple in Pitt’s throat shifted when he swallowed. He raised both hands in surrender. “But what am I going to do? You’re my only collector. Where will I find another one?”

“I don’t care. It’s not my concern.” Calvin loosened his hold, but only a little.

“Okay, okay.”

Calvin let him go.

“But I need you for just one more pickup,” Pitt said. “It’ll be soon. I won’t have time to find a replacement, so you’ll have to do it.”

“I’ve already said I quit. It’s over.”

Pitt sighed. “After this one, you’re done with me. You’ll be a free agent. I promise.”

Calvin thought for a moment. One more pickup—one more payday—and he could take Rachel along with few worries.

“What’s the job?”

“Douglas Grant owes me some money. A lot of money, in fact.”

Calvin’s eyebrows shot up. Grant was one of the richest, most powerful men in Vegas. Why would anyone like Grant have anything to do with Donald Pitt? And why would he borrow, or even have to borrow, money from Pitt when Grant’s estimated net worth was over $300 million dollars? “Why would Grant be doing business with you?”