The Chinatown storage facility was a concrete box of a building, lit only by a flickering security light. Marcus gripped the flashlight in his hand, his heart racing. Claire walked beside him, her dad's notebook open to a map of the facility—Miller had sent it, marked with blind spots.
Raymond and Sophia waited in the car, parked two blocks away. "The unit's 3B," Raymond had said. "Combination's your birthday, Marcus. I set it years ago, in case I ever couldn't get it myself."
Marcus's throat tightened. His birthday. His uncle had thought of him, even back then.
They slipped through the back gate—Sophia had picked the lock earlier—and walked down the row of units. The air smelled like mildew and old cardboard. Claire stopped suddenly, putting a finger to her lips. "Guards," she whispered, nodding toward two men in black jackets leaning against a unit.
Marcus's mind raced. He pulled a deck of cards from his pocket—Raymond's old deck—and walked toward the guards. "Hey," he said, pretending to be drunk. "You guys play poker? I bet I can beat you. Best out of three."
The guards looked at each other, amused. "Kid, go home. This isn't a casino."
Marcus grinned, shuffling the cards. "C'mon. For fun. If I lose, I'll leave. If I win, you tell me what you're guarding."
One guard—tall, with a scar on his cheek—nodded. "Fine. One hand. Texas Hold'em."
Marcus dealt the cards. He got a pair of 2s. The guard got a pair of 10s. Marcus pretended to groan, then flipped his cards. "Damn. You win."
As the guards laughed, Claire slipped past them, heading for 3B. Marcus kept talking, asking about "the boss"—Chen—until Claire waved him over.
The storage unit door was open. Inside, a metal box sat on the floor. Claire unlocked it with a bobby pin—her dad's trick—and pulled out a leather-bound ledger. "This is it," she said, flipping through the pages. "Names, dates, amounts—Chen's entire operation."
Marcus took the ledger, his hands shaking. They had the evidence. They could save Sophia's dad.
Then the lights turned on.
Two more guards ran in, their guns drawn. "Freeze!" one yelled.
Marcus grabbed Claire's hand, pulling her behind him. He slid the ledger into his jacket, then threw the deck of cards at the guards. They dodged, and Marcus and Claire ran.
They sprinted out of the facility, the guards chasing them. Sophia's car was waiting, its lights off. They jumped in, and Raymond hit the gas.
"Did you get it?" Sophia asked, looking in the rearview mirror.
Marcus held up the ledger. "We got it."
But as they drove away, Marcus opened the ledger. The last page was a note, written in Raymond's handwriting: "Chen's next move: Las Vegas. World Poker Tournament. He's smuggling cocaine in the chips."
Claire's face paled. "My dad's notes said the same thing. He was going to stop it. Before he died."
Raymond sighed, his hands tight on the wheel. "We have to go to Las Vegas. Stop Chen. Save Sophia's dad."
Marcus nodded. He thought of the email—"Las Vegas. He wants you there." Chen had been waiting for them.
That night, Marcus lay in bed, the ledger on his nightstand. He thought of Claire, of her dad, of Sophia's dad. He thought of Raymond's note.
Las Vegas. The World Poker Tournament. It was time to end the game.