Player: Stone Cold MC Read online

  Regulars were treated with some kind of respect and that meant that they had to be straight and honest.

  I didn’t do straight and honest.

  I pulled the elastic out of my hair and let it fall down over my shoulders in a heavy brown mass. I unbuttoned my shirt a bit so that it showed the swells of my breasts. Harlan Gold let me let my hair down, and there was nothing as attractive as a woman who made the boys look. Or rather, there was nothing as distracting.

  I took a deep breath, filling my nostrils with the smell of smoke and perfume and the high of winning. People everywhere were smiling, white teeth and shimmering eyes sparkling. Maybe that was why everyone kept coming back.

  The casino was a gem. The carpets were a plush red, and my heels sunk into it as I walked through the slot machines with their sheep that hoped the next spin would be the Jackpot. The place was decorated tastefully in gold, deep brown, and rich red, making the whole place shimmer like the jewel it was. It wasn’t the cheesy Asian red and gold, but rather the kind that screamed class and money, even though they catered to the everyday civilians off the streets, too.

  But Harlan Gold had VIP rooms and high stakes games that made my fingers itch, and I was planning on landing in one of those tonight. I needed a big win to satisfy the uncomfortable urges. I needed some money passing through my fingers to remind me that I was alive.

  I walked toward the poker tables. I felt lucky tonight, and poker was one of my favorites. Texas Hold’em.

  A guy to my right cheered, no doubt winning a big hand. I turned my head and looked at him, and my eyes stayed on him for two steps. He was good looking.

  God, he was really good looking. He had black hair and blue eyes, the perfect combination. But he wasn’t model pretty. He was rough and rugged, a big boy that carried himself as if he knew who he was and what he was doing there. And his voice was deep and rich…as rich as the chips he was scraping toward himself.

  I shook my head and returned my focus to the table, sitting down. Focus. I had to focus on the game. So many of the players relied on the statistics, their probability of winning based on the cards in their hands and the cards on the table.

  I didn’t play that way. As much as I was a counter, I played Texas Hold’em by feel. My gut told me when to bet and when to fold, and most of the time, I won big. I had the touch, or so I liked to think.

  I sat down. There were three men and a woman at the table. The men’s eyes all traveled down to my unbuttoned shirt before they met my eyes and smiled. The woman, somewhere in her forties I was guessing, glared at me as if I’d stolen her limelight. Jealousy makes you nasty.

  I started with the small blind and put in my money. I was dealt a king and a ten. I put my cards down on the table, face down, after checking them. I wouldn’t pick them up again. There were those that miraculously forgot which two cards they had.

  Their timing was everything. I could read with how many times they double-checked, how much trouble they were in.

  With the men’s reaction, I wasn’t too worried about them. Their attention might have only wavered for a moment, but if it had worked then without me doing much, I could distract them again. Fold my arms under my breasts and lean on the table, pushing them up so there was more to see. Bat my eyelashes at someone. Flirtatious lines and smiling and laughter. Men ate that shit up and the game fell away.

  It was only Ms. Sourpuss over there whom I needed to watch out for, but she looked like the calculating kind. I could take her easily.

  The dealer laid out the first card. A jack. Nothing special, but I could use it if the right cards came up. Another round of betting. Check. Raise the bet. Call. Check. Everyone was ready for the next card.

  A king. I sat on a double already. If I got a nine and a queen, I was sorted for a straight, but that was getting my hopes up.

  Check. Check. One man eyed my chest again and folded.

  A four. Not what I needed. The straight was out, but I could still win on the double if it worked out in my favor. The chubbier one of the two still had his eyes on the table right in front of me, no doubt using his peripherals to check me out. I did my squeeze-and-lean trick, and he rubbed his neck. He was on the edge. He’d lost his concentration, and he was going to either lose or fold.

  He folded just after I thought about it.

  Ms. Sourpuss was still glaring at me, probably unhappy that my rack was getting more attention than hers was. I smiled brightly at her and raised the bet. She had to either call or fold.

  She called. Who would have thought?

  Dealer threw out a nine. Too little too late, but I wasn’t out of the game yet. The last guy folded, and it was just us two ladies, standing off. Fine by me, it was difficult to beat the two kings I had with what was on the table. She either had to have a king and an ace as the kicker in her hand, or I was ahead of her. I was willing to take the chance that she didn’t have those exact two cards in her hand.

  I raised my bet again.

  She clenched her jaw, and I saw ‘fold’ written in her eyes, but the tick in her jaw spelled out ‘stubborn’ so she called.

  The last card was another king. It could be either-or. She was the first to lay down her cards. Double nines.

  I put mine down, and the chips were mine. She scoffed at me as if I’d personally done her in, and a new hand was dealt, everyone back on-board.

  Forty-five minutes and I’d cleaned the table. Winning was amazing. The thrill rushed through my body, and I felt like a million bucks.

  I didn’t have that much yet, but the night was still young.

  I went to two more tables where I cleaned up, and a man in a black suit and a butter yellow tie that did nothing for his skin tone approached me.

  “Your playing impressed us,” he said.

  “Thank you.” I flashed a cute smile, hoping it would get me somewhere. Whether it was the smile or the playing I didn’t know, but he nodded and looked over my shoulder nonchalantly.

  “I’d like to invite you to the VIP room. We’re starting a high stakes poker game in half an hour, and we’d like to offer you a seat at the table.”

  Bingo.

  I feigned looking surprised, keeping my smugness on the down low, and nodded.

  “I’d love to,” I said. He must have been a casino official, and I noticed the gold plate with his name on. Charlie. That confirmed it for me. He held his hand out, gesturing toward the gilded doors that led through to the high rollers’ area where the VIPs got to play for a lot more money. I thanked him and walked through.

  I’d been in the VIP room once before, and the memory didn’t do it justice. Where the rest of the casino was decorated with a lot of gold, the VIP room had the red and the brown, but cream finishes instead, not showing the glamour of a possible life, but complimenting the clients who were already leading it.

  There were ladies in cocktail dresses and men in tuxedos. There were very few people who were dressed down, no doubt other promising players picked off the floor, and I felt underdressed.

  I did up the button on my blouse again. This was classy business, no space for using my body the way I had before.

  I eyed the table. There were ten players around it—double what I’d been playing until now, and it was intimidating, with all of the men in tuxedos. Still, I wasn’t one to shy away from a challenge.

  I ordered myself a fancy sounding drink from a menu I didn’t recognize anything on and leaned against the bar, waiting for the bartender to mix it.

  It came out the color of sunset, and when I tasted it, it tasted good. Thank God. It had a kick of alcohol in it, but nothing I couldn’t handle.

  I sat down at the first call, my drink on the table in front of me. The men eyed me—not as a piece of meat which I’d hoped for, but as an opponent. They all knew what they were doing. I knew that. What I needed tonight was to fall back on my counting skills. I wasn’t going to rely on luck and a gut feel with this amount of money involved.

  Opening bet was two grand.
Enough to make my head spin.

  The game kicked off. Somewhere after the third hand, I ordered another drink. Two hours in and someone had dropped out. I was still going strong and getting more and more confident. I just had to keep my eyes on the cards.

  I had a king and an ace in my hand. I was going to cream this one.

  There was a commotion in the next section. Security guards ran past, and I let my eyes follow them. The handsome guy from earlier was dragged by, screaming something in colorful words. Another guard joined them and escorted him out.

  Despicable. People like that had to learn how to behave themselves in public.

  When I turned my attention back to the table, I realized I’d missed something. The distraction had gotten me behind.

  Shit.

  I picked up the corner of my cards and peeked at them like the idiots I despised. King and an ace. Right. I could still win this.

  We were one card short of a flush. Was I going to risk it? I hadn’t been counting, but my gut was screaming at me.

  All in. I pushed my entire stack of chips toward the middle. Some onlookers gasped, but I was happy. I was going to win this one. My gut never betrayed me.

  The guy flipped the cards. It wasn’t the jack I’d been hoping for. Instead, it was another queen. Someone else had two queens making it a triple. With an ace kicker, winning. And since I’d been all in, I was out of the game.

  Fuck.

  I got up, smiled politely, and thanked them for the game. My smile faded the moment I walked away. That idiot and his distraction had lost me all my money. I was walking out of the Harlan Gold with nothing.

  My mood turned black, and I stomped out of the VIP section. I’d lost more money than I’d ever lost in one night, and I looked like a fool to boot. The people who invited me into the VIP section must really think they made the right choice.

  Dammit!

  I was so angry I was about ready to slap someone. And the people who saw me picked up on it, too, because they stayed out of my way. A path opened for me when I walked to the door. It was all because of that guy.

  The good-looking one. I should have known he was going to be trouble. He had it written all over that face of his.

  I swear, if I got my hands on him, I was going to bloody murder him.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I crossed the state border into California and something warm and nauseatingly emotional welled up inside of me. I hated to admit that that was what it was, but these were facts, and not even I could run away from them, no matter how hard I tried.

  California was Emmett’s kind of place. The weather, the people, it all worked for him. I hadn’t been back here without him. Part of it was because I wasn’t up to walking those memories alone. I stopped at a gas station a couple of miles in and decided my plan of action.

  I wanted to lie low, be out of the public eye for a bit. The club was getting a bit hot on my ass. But at the same time, I didn’t want to stop playing the game just because I was in a bit of trouble. That just spelled out pathetic. So it was going to have to be a big city. Sacramento, San Francisco, San Jose… there were a lot of choices. Los Angeles jumped at me. Of course, I was in the Golden State.

  I liked the idea of L.A. It was close to the sea, and it had been a while since I’d gotten my toes wet. Besides, it was packed with the rich and famous, and they all needed somewhere to blow their money.

  I got back in my car and drove the last stretch without stopping.

  By the time I got into the city, it was just past midnight. The city wasn’t asleep yet, and neither was I. The lights were bright and flashing all around me like artificial daytime. I checked into a motel with a fake name, a wad of cash, and a big tip for the reception guy to keep his mouth shut about me. With the way his eyes bulged, I doubted he’d seen cash like that before. I was guessing the motel was his only source of income.

  I showered. I hated long drives; they made me sweat. I got dressed in fancy pants, a light green, checkered collar shirt that looked better than it should have, and shrugged back into my leather jacket. The weather was more forgiving than Nevada’s pressing heat, and it felt good to be in my good clothes for a night out on the town.

  I walked down the strip where the casinos were located and a place called Harlan Gold drew me. It was big and flashy, and judging by the amount of people streaming in through its door, it was also very popular.

  When I stepped through the glass doors that led inside I was seduced by the vibe and décor of the place. Red and gold everywhere, with classy people floating around, and the chatter and laughter a sound that I’ve come to love. The smell of green and tobacco smoke was in the air, and I felt right at home.

  I swapped cash for chips and headed toward the roulette tables. Always a good way to start the night, relying on sexy lady luck. The casino handed out little gold trays for those who had too many chips to carry. That was my goal, to get my hands on one of those, and then to worm my way into one of the high-stake games to meet the right people. But you didn’t just meet them by your lonesome. I needed contacts. I was new in town, and I wasn’t going to get anywhere without some kind of reference.

  A man stood next to me, mumbling to himself as the white ball spun round. I’d put chips on seventeen red. He’d put some on seventeen black.

  The ball landed in my favor, and he swore.

  “Next time,” I said. “All is fair in love and war, right?”

  He had a cream suit on that looked out of place in the casino where it was mostly black and white and jewel-colored cocktail dresses. He wore brown-rimmed glasses that looked like something from the seventies, and his hair was the same color and combed over a bald spot on top of his head. If he didn’t look so young, I would have guessed him to be from another era.

  “You want to get a drink?” he asked me. Foot was in the door. I scraped my winnings together and pocketed them, following him to the bar. He walked as if he owned the place. Confidence always had a place in the gambling world, and I decided I liked him.

  “Name’s Ted,” he said after he ordered Lagavulin. I ordered Gray Goose and sucked my long and tall down to get the buzz going. It was going to be a good night; I could feel it in my bones.

  “Rip,” I said, not lying about who I was this time. “Rip Peterson.”

  “Well, doesn’t that have a poetic ring to it,” he said. I couldn’t decide if he was joking or not. He nodded his head to a cocktail table that just cleared, and he put his drink on top. “So, what brings you to Harlan?”

  “What brings anyone here?” I asked. He smiled.

  “You’re new in town, aren’t you?”

  I nodded. “How’d you guess?”

  He shrugged. “Just the way about you. I have a sense for these things.” I nodded pretending to agree, but really I was betting it was just a lucky guess.

  “So, you going to show me around a bit?” I asked. “Tell me who I need to watch out for?”

  “What makes you think you need to look out for anything?” he asked. He looked around nonchalantly as if he wanted to come off uncaring, but his attitude had changed. A man with information was always a man at the top of the food chain.

  “Come now, Teddy,” I said, taking a chance with a nickname. “Every playground has new bullies. Help a new kid out.”

  Ted grinned.

  “You’re right,” he said. “And the first people you need to know about are the Crucifix Six.”

  I snorted into my drink. With a name like that, the Stone Cold Club sounded like a classy operation.

  “Don’t laugh it off. They’re one of the most dangerous organizations around town. They have eyes and ears, and possibly scopes, on everyone around here.”

  “I’m guessing there are six of them in management?” I asked. Management being the people who told the triggers when they needed to beat someone up, or when killing was appropriate.

  “Can’t get anything past you,” Ted said sarcastically. I shrugged.

  “One guy,
in particular, you need to look out for…a regular named Antonio Jerrill. He’s always here, and even though he’s not one of the Six, he’s in their back pocket. I don’t know what he has on them, but they look after him like he’s the crown prince himself.”

  “Six dicks and their lackey. Got it,” I said. Ted stared at me with a half open mouth before putting it to good use and sipping more of his Lag.

  “Listen, if I can give you any kind of advice, it’s not to get cocky. You don’t want to fall in with the wrong crowd.”

  I nodded, pretending to take the advice. But honestly, Ted didn’t know that I was the wrong crowd. I could handle myself. I knew how these clubs operated; I knew how they cheated and stole. I’d been one of them after all, and they’d taught me well.