The Player (The Game Maker #3)(30)

Mom was more direct. “You tossed away the biggest mark this family has ever had a line on.”

Al made a move on the chessboard. “Only in America, with the catching and releasing.”

Karin sank onto the couch beside me. “I struck out with Sevastyan, but if you help me find an in, maybe I’d have better luck. Since you’re not interested in this guy, you shouldn’t mind, right?”

The idea of Dmitri touching my sister . . . his deep voice rumbling in her ear . . .

Bile rose in my throat. Jealousy clawed at me.

“No go,” Pete said, saving me from having to answer. “This guy wants Vice. Only her. Trust me.” Again a round of laughs. “He seems obsessed. When I stepped between him and Vice, for a second, I thought he was going to kill me.”

Recalling his sinister stare gave me chills. “Yeah, something’s way off with him. He’s pinging my radar left and right.” Because he was crazy! Admittedly! He talked to himself and handled confusion “badly.” His likes included spanking strange women and humiliating them in nightclubs.

“Has he lied to you?” Dad asked.

“Not a single time. Still, something is wrong with him.” I was about to add, “Trust me,” but stopped myself.

“We’re not asking you to marry him,” Mom said. “We simply need you to fleece him for as much as humanly possible in the next couple of weeks.”

Al said, “Type on phone to man. Tell heem you had change of heart.”

Dad cast me an encouraging smile. “We wouldn’t ask this of you if the alternative wasn’t so daunting.”

“Daunting?” Pete crossed his arms over his chest. “Is that what we’re calling murder?” He faced me. “’Cause that’s what Uncle Joe is looking at if we miss the payoff.”

Frustration welled. “Then we need to run!”

Cash woke in Benji’s arms and yawned, taking in the scene.

“This is our home.” Dad’s tone was firm. “These are our people. That’s our absolute last play.”

I shuffled. “Even if I reestablish contact with Dmitri, how do we monetize it? And every second I waste with him, I could be targeting another guy. Pete’s got those whales coming in—”

Another chime sounded. Again everyone tensed. Holding my breath, I put down my cards and checked my phone. “It’s him.”

Gram exclaimed, “Oh, thank Lady Luck!”

“What did he write?” Karin scooched closer to me.

“‘I will pick you up for dinner at seven.’” Excitement surged inside me, and I feared our desperate situation was only partly to blame.

Pete said, “I like it. Direct. No explanation. No rehashing.”

“What do we write back?” Mom rose, beginning to pace. “We need more engagement. Lots of question marks, Vice. Flirty, but not too flirty.”

If I was going back in on this con, I’d do it my way. I typed two letters.

Karin said, “What the hell?”

“What did she do?” Mom cried. “What did she do???”

“Vice told him . . . no.”

I glanced up, shrinking from their horrified expressions. “I’m playing a hunch.”

Dad said, “Ballsy, sweet pea. Let’s hope he likes the chase.”

Al took one of Gram’s rooks. “Vee Russian men do like chase.”

Another chime. DSevastyan: Other plans?

Mom clasped her hands. “Please, just be . . . nice.”

Again, I was typing.

Karin translated for everyone: “She wrote that she and her friends might go clubbing. She punctuated her text with emoticons of a martini glass, a prescription pill, and a dripping syringe.”

Al glowered. “Vee raised you better than thees.”

Mom looked like she was about to faint, so I said, “Elusiveness. If I’m going to milk-cow him, I should be elusive, right?”

Gram said, “Elusive, yes. Impulsive, no. Long cons are long because we spend time plotting, my dear.”

I caught my parents sharing a glance. They were . . . scared. As if I’d just taken a dive and shanked our game-winning shot.

Come on, Sevastyan, please text back.

No one spoke. Gram’s sherry bottle clinked against her little glass as Al refilled her.

Please, Dmitri, please, please, please.

Another chime. Relief made me sag.

DSevastyan: Are you busy now?

Karin read the text aloud while I answered. Vice: Not really.

I jumped when my phone rang a second later. “It’s him.”

Karin snapped her fingers. “Paper! Pen!”

Mom scrambled past canvases and sewing materials to toss Karin a notepad and pen. “Put it on speakerphone, Vice.”

What if he mentioned what we’d done? But he was a mark, and we worked these cons by committee. As Mom always said, “It takes a village to play a mark.”

Karin said, “Sound like you’re smiling when you pick up.”

I scowled at her, was scowling as I pushed the speaker button and answered, “Yo.” All around me, my family went mum, not a peep to give them away. Even Cash seemed to be holding his breath.

“What did you think of the gift I sent you?” Dmitri asked.

The sound of his deep, rich voice filled the room, sending an unwelcome thrill through me. “I’m not at home.” I made my tone bored as I said, “What’d you get me?”