He took the elevator down to the parking garage, listening to Elvis tell him they were underway with Falkenhayne and listening to Wheeler tell him he was rolling behind the others, set to take out the opposition they’d picked up. It was something. Skater had always known—that there’d come a run he couldn’t finish if he didn’t get out of the biz, a run where he’d end up a step short when the final cards hit the table down and dirty.