He drew the Taser from his coat pocket and held it up to the rear hatch light, studying it. It looked okay. Maybe it hadn’t been fully charged? Or maybe it was broken. That did happen from time to time. He’d read the news stories of police being forced to shoot a suspect with their gun after the Taser didn’t work, but he’d always figured it was the cops making excuses.

He pressed it to Brewer’s chest and squeezed the trigger, causing the body to twitch.

“Well, fuck.” The Taser did function. At least some of the time. Maybe Brewer had been on something. That might account for it. However he sliced it, the man’s response had thrown him off his game.

He hadn’t planned to kill the bastard in his own driveway. He’d planned to wait. To do it here, on the riverbank, miles from the nearest neighbor, where no one would hear his screams.

He scowled at John Brewer’s handsome face. Sonofabitch got off too damn easy. Too many people had been taken in by his fake charm.

My boss included. Normally Richard was a shrewd judge of character. Me excluded, of course. Cade was pretty sure Richard wouldn’t condone his extracurricular “service” to the community, were he to find out. Although, who knew? Stranger things had happened.

He’d never considered that Richard would engage in human trafficking, but that was exactly what his boss had done earlier that evening. Brewer had been trying to win back the property title he’d lost before and Richard had allowed the slimy bastard to add his five-year-old stepson to his stake when the small stash of heroin he’d brought to the game didn’t meet the minimum table requirements.

The super-secret game that Richard hosted allowed no actual currency to be wagered. Instead, a constant flow of unique and valuable items—some legal, but most black-market—changed hands from week to week. Cade had often wondered what the winners did with some of the stuff, which had included land, luxury vehicles, stolen masterpieces, and exotic animals—live and parts.

He’d concluded that the participants often had their eye on a specific prize, and that they probably sold off the rest of what they won as quickly as possible. Usually through Richard.

In addition to running a successful gambling operation on the Ohio River, his boss was also a “procurer” for the wealthy in the Midwest and beyond. Richard knew what some people wanted and what others had. He brought them together, enabling them to trade in a civilized fashion.

Up until tonight, people had never been included among the prizes to be won. A few times there had been offers of human organs brought to the table, which had shocked Cade enough. But never people. At least not to my knowledge.