Undercover Poker Party, Part 1

“This could go so wrong in so many ways,” Sinead murmured. “And if anyone recognizes me, I’m fucked for making this case.”

“Well,” Marc murmured back. “The good news is that you’re here as my guest, and I was invited. Completely above board.”

“You know it wouldn’t be so cut and dry!” Sinead hissed, but she couldn’t put up any more arguments because they were approaching the warehouse door.

Marc did know it wouldn’t be so ‘cut and dry’ on the Detective’s end, and he felt a little off about that. He had to admit to himself that he had perhaps focused just a little too much on his own goals, and not the needs of Sinead when it came to making her case and not just breaking it. Marc had seen an opportunity to do something that sounded fun with the Detective, and she’d responded so well to the ‘going undercover’ date before that this seemed like a natural extension.

But she was right - it was going to be harder to explain her presence here with Marc and then appear in a courtroom or possibly even an interrogation room. And, worse, he had misjudged the impact on himself. Eventually, Sinead would need to make arrests, and even if no one else remembered her, Victor certainly would. And he would know the connection between the Detective and Marc.

And that could very well lead to some awkward moments as to why he was involved at all.

All of that ran through Marc’s head as he lifted his fist to knock on the door, and he wondered if perhaps he should have brought Felicity to this engagement. Or even Astrid. Either of them would have been a safer long-term choice than Sinead.

And yet, there the feisty redhead was, her arm looped with his as he knocked.

A small eye-port slid open in the door, a dark form beyond looking out at them. “Name?” a gruff voice asked.

“Marc Fornier,” Marc said. “And guest.”

There was a long moment as the person behind the door seemed to be eyeing them up and down, and then a whisper happened, and the eye-port slid closed before the door unlocked heavily. It opened with an angry squeal of dry metal hinges.

Inside the warehouse was dark and cavernous. The majority of the lights were off except for a single one over the inside of the door illuminating a short red carpet that led from the door and made a hard right turn towards a metal gantry stairway that led up to what had likely been a business office at one time. Beyond the small illuminated area it was clear that the warehouse was fairly empty, but there was a small stack of crates at the far side. Much more pressing due to their closeness were a pair of bouncers. One was a man, slight with a bit of a rat face, his short hair slicked back and wearing a suit that was of expensive taste but tailored a little too large for his frame. The other bouncer was a woman who stood well over six feet, and despite her feminine cocktail dress there was no hiding her bodybuilder's muscles. She filled the dress out like she was about to burst out of it, and Marc couldn’t imagine why she would have chosen to wear it for a guard duty job. The black boots she wore weren’t exactly adding to the aesthetic, either.

“Welcome, Mr Fornier,” the big woman said. “Mr Barisha and your fellow guests are meeting up in the game room. We’ll just need to pat you down for weapons, cell phones and recording devices.”

“If I’d known that, I would have left my phone in the car,” Marc sighed as he affected a mildly irritated tone. In reality, he’d somewhat been expecting such a thing - Barisha was an idiot, but he wasn’t a fool. Angry gamblers were like any other angry sort of addict and letting them have a gun, or even a phone, when they were getting their fix could be a problem.

“Arms up,” Rat Face said as he picked up a detector paddle from a little stand they had set up next to the door. Marc sighed and stepped forward, taking his phone out of his inside breast pocket and sliding it into the banker’s bag the woman held out to him before Rat Face waved the wand over him. There weren’t any beeps, but he clocked the bulge in Marc’s jacket and tapped it. Marc reached in and pulled out the stack of cash that he was buying into the game with. Ten thousand dollars. The man nodded and waved him past.

“I think your compatriot will be the one checking my companion,” Marc said sharply.

Rat Face narrowed his eyes slightly as Sinead was stepping forward, but nodded and handed the paddle over to the female bouncer. The big woman gave Sinead a once-over after the Detective’s phone joined Marc’s in the bag. Marc had actually considered warning Sinead not to bring a hidden gun strapped to her thigh or something before the date, but the lingerie earlier had dissuaded the need to do so.

Then the wand pinged as it waved over Sinead’s ass.

Both the bouncers eyebrows went up.

Sinead immediately flushed red from her chest to her cheeks.

“A private accessory,” Marc said flatly, feeling like a fool for not considering that the high-quality plug with its smooth metal coating would set off a metal detector. “She will not be removing it.”

Rat Face looked like he wanted to argue, but the big woman waved the paddle over Sinead’s backside again and the ping very obviously happened right in the middle of Sinead’s butt where here tight leather pants weren’t showing any sort of odd bulge or anything. The female bouncer snorted softly. “Should be fine,” she said.

“Alright, all good,” Rat Face said. “Enjoy the game.”

Marc made a show of handing the cash to Sinead, who looked at it coolly as she took it and then looped her arm with his again, her hand grabbing his arm tightly. They left the bouncers and headed for the stairs, at the bottom of which Sinead decided they were far enough away to say something.

“Oh my fucking God, Marc,” she hissed.

“I apologise, Sinead,” Marc said. “Apparently I paid attention to almost every detail.”

Sinead sighed and shook her head, tring to let it wash off her. She hefted the cash in her hand. “Is this just a card game, or fucking Casino Royale?” she asked.

“Possibly both,” Marc murmured. “That’s the buy-in.”

“Fuck, Marc,” Sinead hissed. “I could have just busted this game and had enough to manoeuvre Barisha.”

Marc shrugged. “Isn’t this more fun, though?”

Sinead sighed, gripping his arm a little tighter as their feet made rhythmic bong sounds on the metal stairs. As they approached the top a door opened in the side of the raised office structure and soft music spilled out along with a dull red light.

“Fine,” she said. “Maybe it is. But no more fucking surprise dates!”