Every assassin has a skill set. Mine is unique--the fascinating ways I can use my hands.

My clientele is limited, by choice. I work only for Aldo, my step-brother. After WE tracked down the masked men who shotgunned Father in the lobby of the biggest hotel/casino on the Strip, Aldo replaced him as capo of the Las Vegas Outfit.

Long before Father was killed, Aldo was a hit man. Secretly, I became his protege and honed my special skills by working with his best dealers and a host of magicians.

During breakfast one morning, a capo from AZ had called Aldo, requesting a favor. Aldo listened, frowned, and replied succinctly. "Man's scum. My pleasure, Fredo."

Aldo reiterated the conversation. "A predator of young girls needs killing. You interested, Sis?"

I smiled.
* * *

Sal Calabrese sat alone at the blackjack table as I dealt.

"Don't talk much, do you, Corinne?"

I didn't answer, but waited for him to examine both cards I'd dealt.

He lifted a corner of each, peeked, and laid them flat.

"Stay," he grinned.

I dealt two to myself, face up, a jack and a six.

He laughed. "You gotta hit yourself again, and I just know it won't be a five or four. You'll bust--"

I turned over the three of clubs. "Dealer nineteen."

"Shit!"

I deftly flipped over his two cards. Seventeen.

"Sorry." I awarded him a tight smile as i swept his short stack of chips into my tray.

His eyes glanced at the Rolex on his wrist. "Whoops! I'm outa time. Got a pal waitin' for me in the Grill."

I smiled.

"Well, one last hand. What have I left . . . uh . . . ten chips? All or nothin', Corinne."

I dealt him two cards and another smile. He peeked and scowled.

"Hit me," he demanded.

I did, deliberately raking his thumb with the sharp edge of the third card. The nine of spades.

He never noticed the thin stream of blood on the felt as his mind figured the sum of his cards.

"Twenty-one!" he howled. "Goin' out a winner!"

"Yes," I said, my smile more real than he'd ever know.

I matched his chips with ten of my own, and watched him stuff all but one into a pocket, oblivious of the blood. He tossed me the last.

"Thanks, Corinne. I'll cash these in, eat fast, and come right back." He winked lasciviously.

But I knew he wouldn't return. He'd be dead before reaching the cashier's cage.

When he was out of sight, I swept up his cards, burying the poisoned one amidst another deck open on my tray.

I could have taken his money any time, but waited till the end to give him a win and mortal wound with sleight-of-hand. Yes, cameras behind the two-way glass above had recorded every move I made, but Aldo would already have secured the tape.

"Hit me!" Calabrese had said.

Who was I to refuse?