Player: Stone Cold MC Page 8

  “Mr. Reeker, your bet,” the dealer said, and I realized it was my turn. I pushed two stacks of chips onto the table to match what everyone else had put in, and the game started.

  The first card deal was a two. Two jacks. And then a queen. There was nothing in my favor. The bet went up and I folded. I couldn’t do this.

  I didn’t rub the sweat off my forehead. Alex had told me not to; it was a sign of distress and they were going to see it and know what it meant, know what to look for. But I was distressed and my poker face wasn’t as good as it should be. Fuck, what if I messed up? What if I lost everything? I wouldn’t just have Alex on my case, but I would have Tucci after me with a gun. Like I needed another set of hitmen to take me out.

  The old man won the round and grinned, showing yellowed teeth from all the smoking. He scraped the chips closer and meticulously stacked them. I was willing to bet he was doing it to rub it in our faces.

  There wasn’t a lot of talking around the table. The few men who knew each other threw snide comments around, but the rest of us were quiet, concentrating on the cards. I was grateful that there was no distraction.

  The next hand was a seven and an eight. Better than last if I got the right cards. I put in my bet and the added extra for the small blind, and the cards were dealt. A king. A five. An ace that I couldn’t use. I wanted to chew my lip. I wanted to wipe my head on my sleeve. Instead, I focused on making the exact same face Alex did and did none of those things that would give me away.

  A ten. If I got a nine now I was going to have a straight and I could take this. I glanced at the others. The cowboy was chewing his lower lip. The old man had half of his face twitching slightly. The younger guy looked like he was made of stone. Not much to go by, and I hadn’t concentrated when the others had folded. Shit.

  We all had to bet again because someone raised. Check. Another someone raised. There were some good cards going around. My stomach did a little flip and I felt like I was going to be sick. Check again.

  And then the last card was flipped. A nine. Holy shit.

  I put my cards down, not looking too excited about it, trying to keep the flurry of emotion inside. I took the round and the chips on the table were all mine. It was an accident, but I’d played the way Alex had taught me and it was working.

  It was working.

  Confidence shot into me, making me sit up straighter. I was in this game now, ready to take on the men around me. Oldie across from me noticed the change and frowned. He didn’t know what he was seeing. Just to be a pain in the ass, I fussed over stacking the chips the same way he had. Two could play at this game.

  I was eager for the next round. I resisted rubbing my hands together. Cocky and arrogant were two words that didn’t fit in with what was happening tonight. All I had to do was focus, and if I did was going to be able to pay Tucci a good amount of money and Alex and I were still going to be able to split quite a bit or ourselves.

  She would be proud of me. The lessons had paid off. Turned out I wasn’t a dumb fuck after all. I had worth.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I’d found a blackjack table I was interested in. I stood with the crowd of onlookers and watched the current game. I counted as I went along, making sure that I was on top of my game. I was able to tell what was coming, and when the guy that sat in front of me lost all his money, I was the one who slid into the empty seat.

  I’d finished my drink a while ago, and now I wished I’d ordered another one before sitting down. I wasn’t usually this edgy when I played—I knew what I was doing—but I’ve never had a partner who was playing a high-stakes poker game in the private section on the other side of the casino.

  One that had only learned recently how to play properly. One who made more debt than cash by the looks of things.

  I took a deep breath, feeling my constricting dress as I did, and made sure that I kept my eye on the dealer’s cards. I bet my money and waited for the cards to fall. I feigned surprise when I won the first hand. The lady next to me leaned toward me.

  “We’re always so much better at entertaining the boys, aren’t we?” she said and then shimmied her shoulders as if she meant her body was what they were looking at. Her dress was a little too tight, her body a little too curvy, and the color didn’t work for her. But I smiled and pretended like that was what it was about.

  “What do you say we do another round?” she asked, as if we were best friends already.

  “Sure,” I said. “I’m feeling lucky. I smiled at the men who stood in view, and they grinned back at me. I knew that they were watching me, not her. But that meant they weren’t watching the cards and the fact that I was counting. That was why I dressed the way I did when I went to casinos. I had breasts. I used them. It was all about misdirection.

  I’d been playing for about half an hour when I put my hand to my head.

  “I think I need to get out of here, get myself another drink,” I said to whomever would listen. I got up, taking my chips with me, and walked away from the table. I didn’t like staying in one place too long. I didn’t like raising suspicion. My money was accumulating, and I didn’t want the dealer to inform the authorities that I was making more than the average player.

  At the bar, I ordered a tall glass of water with ice and lemon in it. I glanced toward the private section. I couldn’t see Rip—a.k.a Ben Reeker—through the door, but he hadn’t showed his face yet, which had to mean he was doing okay enough to still be in there.

  I didn’t recognize the two faces I could see through the door. An old man and a cowboy who looked like he belonged in Texas instead of here. But I’d noticed that Lady Luck attracted a stranger crowd than Harlan Gold where I spent more of my time.

  I took my water with me and decided to play roulette. It was the ultimate game of luck, and it was fitting here at this casino. I bet some money on four black and waited. When that little ball spun around and around above the blocks my stomach clenched in a fist and a thrill shuddered through my body. I loved this. I loved the risk and not knowing. It was almost as great as the risk of counting and being caught. Almost, but just not. If Cass was here and she could see me now… maybe she wouldn’t think that this way of life was bad for me.

  Some addictions were bad. When you lost control, they could consume you, and I understood that. But some of them were fine, and the gambling and its risks weren’t dragging me under. In fact, I had a really good life because of it. I owned a house and car. I made my own hours. I always walked away with money in pocket.

  All was as it should have been.

  A loud voice behind me drew my attention, and I collected my chips. I’d wanted to move on anyway, and the distraction had snapped me out of my daze. I looked over my shoulder. A man in a grey suit and black-rimmed glasses was being dragged by the collar toward the door. The security didn’t do anything. They just watched, made sure that no one got in the way of the drama, and stayed out of it.

  There was only one person I knew who had someone do that for him.

  I looked around but saw no one I knew. I moved through the crowds, looking for that face, but I couldn’t see him anyway. Maybe I was wrong. It was highly possible that there were more assholes around town.

  I sat down at a poker table. I was going to play the same game Rip was busy with if he was still in. It made me feel good. He’d taught me some tricks like sleight of hand and pickpocketing, but I couldn’t find anywhere to use them yet, and I didn’t want to force it and rouse suspicion.

  I won the first hand, folded two, and then won three in a row. Two of the players folded, one swearing under his breath. Eventually, I had a handful of chips to add to my stack and I felt good about it.

  When I got up, I heard a familiar voice. It was out of place here at Lady Luck. I usually heard it at Harlan Gold, but I would know that Mexican accent and that irritating voice anywhere. I turned around and Antonio Jerrill stood behind me. He had his back to me so he didn’t see me. I collected my chips and got up, making s
ure to slip between a couple of people before I stopped to look.

  “Get me a drink while you’re at it,” I heard him shout after his bodyguard who was already on his way to the bar. “I’ll meet you in the private section. Bring him there.”

  I didn’t know who ‘he’ was. No doubt Jerrill had found someone he needed to scare. The only thing I knew was that Rip was still in the private section, and Jerrill knew who he was.

  He’d gotten thrown out by him. This was bad. This was very bad. If Jerrill saw Rip, he was going to make a scene, and the last thing we needed now was attention, and someone looking into Rip’s business. The only way to keep an alias was to keep a low profile, and Jerrill would blow that right out of the water.

  I slipped my phone out of my pocket and dialed Rip’s number. We’d agreed on that. If we ran into trouble, we would call first and hang up before the other answered, just to draw attention. Then, when the phone was out, we could message and be sure it was read.

  I walked toward the private section with the phone against my ear. The bouncer watched me with hawk eyes, and I smiled at him. What did he think I was going to do?

  I listened for Rip’s phone and didn’t hear it ringing. He must have put it on vibrate. I hoped he would feel it in his pocket.

  I rang three times and then texted him a code red. I didn’t say anything in the message, the name of the color. Red. It was quick and easy, and the message was sent and delivered before I could breathe again.

  He was supposed to reply that he’d read it. He didn’t.

  I paced around, making my way through the crowds in a wide arc around Jerrill, staying hidden but still keeping an eye on him. He looked irritated, talking on the phone, and then he snapped his phone shut.

  I glanced at my phone. Still no reply.

  Jerrill started walking toward the private section. The bouncer was nodding at him. Apparently, he was well known here. I should have guessed a man like Jerrill would be popular in all the casinos.

  I rang Rip’s phone again, hoping he would feel it. I kept going until it rolled over to voicemail, and then did it again, hoping if I nagged at him, he would realize what was going on.

  The third time he killed the call, and I knew he’d finally gotten the phone out. Two seconds later a message came through with a color. White.

  He wasn’t in trouble yet.

  I breathed a sigh of relief, but it was still too close. He still had to get out of there. I held my breath and paced some more, keeping an eye on Jerrill. His phone rang again, and he stopped just short of the bouncer, shouting into the phone. Thank God.

  Rip appeared at the doors. He looked at me, and I nodded toward Jerrill. He spotted the man straight away and knew what the danger was. God, I loved the fact that he could, at least, think quick on his feet. He started walking toward me, keeping Jerrill in his periphery. The man was busy, but if he turned around at any point he was sure to see him.

  Luckily he didn’t. Rip walked toward me, cool and calm, and by the tick in his jaw I could see that Rip was hiding his nerves. I had to remember to commend him on his poker face.

  He took my hand, made a show of kissing it in front of the bouncer, and I laughed, turning with him just as Jerrill finished his call. Our backs were to him, and he walked past us without seeing our faces.

  “How was your game, honey?” I asked.

  “It went alright,” he said. Judging by the look on his face, he was telling the truth, too.

  We walked together to the exit. We had to get out of this place and fast. I didn’t want to be under the same roof Jerrill was, especially because he knew my face—even if he didn’t know me personally—and he disliked Rip.

  When we were outside the bodyguard was there with a guy who looked like he was going to throw up, he was that scared. The bodyguard hauled him toward the door, swearing under his breath every time the guy wanted to bolt.

  “Don’t make it harder than it needs to be,” he said. He glanced at us, and his face froze for a second.

  “Do something,” Rip hissed, and I knew I had to make a plan to get our faces out of his view without it looked suspicious. So I did the first thing I could think of. I slapped Rip across the face so that his head snapped to the side, away from the bodyguard who belonged to Jerrill.

  “Asshole,” I said in a voice that sounded like I was going to cry, and I spun around and hugged myself, back to the bodyguard. He snorted and shouted something at the guy he was manhandling through the door, and a moment later he’d disappeared.

  “Coast clear?” I asked. Rip was the first person to look.

  “Clear,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  I didn’t take his arm again; it wasn’t necessary. We walked together to the road and Rip flagged a taxi.

  “Remind me never to get on your bad side,” he said, touching his cheek gingerly.

  “I didn’t know what else to do,” I said. “Rather that than blowing this whole cover.”

  He nodded and let me get into the taxi first, sliding in after me. In the interior light, I saw the red mark where my fingers had connected with his skin.

  “Sorry,” I said. I didn’t feel bad, really. I’d saved the day. But he looked like I’d wounded his pride. “How much did we make?”

  “Before or after Tucci?” he asked.

  “After. I don’t even want to know before, it will just make me depressed.”

  He nodded as if he knew I was dead serious.

  “Thirty-five.”

  Well, it wasn’t a bad start. It wasn’t nearly enough because we still had to split it among ourselves, but it wasn’t bad.

  “Good man,” I said.

  “Thank you,” he answered, and he sounded proud of himself.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “That was too damn close,” I said when we got back to Alex’s place.

  “Close isn’t caught. Besides, that was a good start, wasn’t it? I thought we did well.”

  She stood on her porch, illuminated by the outside light, and she looked like a vision. Maybe it was the alcohol interfering. A job. I had to remember that Alex was a job. Mostly.

  I nodded and smiled. We did do well. Well, she did well. I did okay. I’d panicked a bit during the game and felt like I was unsure in the beginning there, but it had gotten better. And even though I’d had to leave early, I’d already won a substantial amount of money. We did do well. Alex walked into the house first and flicked on lights as she went, finally doubling back and sitting down on the couch. Perched on the edge with that red dress on and that satisfied smile, she looked like a goddess. God, she was hot.

  I took the money out of the black bag the casino had given it to me in and stacked it on the coffee table in neat little stacks. Eighty-seven thousand five hundred dollars in crisp bills, bound with cheap elastic bands.

  “Oh my god,” Alex breathed. I sat down next to her, close enough that our shoulders almost touched. “I wish we didn’t have to give so much of it away.”

  I nodded. It was a damn shame. The piles of money were a sight for sore eyes. It always made me feel warm.

  “We get to keep thirty-five.”

  “Seventeen and a half each. Less than half of what you owe me.” She looked at me, but her face wasn’t serious. A smile curled around the corners of her mouth, and her eyes were laughing at me. Cheeky. I liked it.

  I shrugged and turned my eyes back to the money.

  “We need to celebrate,” Alex said. “Not only is this whole thing working, but we made money!”

  “You sound like you doubted me.”

  She shrugged. “Let’s face it, you’re not the kind of person I was going to take seriously on this. You just seemed like this plan was made on the fly.”

  I was a little offended. This wasn’t my first rodeo—I’d hustled before. Even if I had made the plan on the fly. Although I had to give it to her that this was definitely the first time I’d played the way I had, and that was thanks to her. Maybe it wasn’t so bad that sh
e hadn’t had faith in me. She’d taught me more than she would have if she’d believed I could do this. And it had saved me.

  “So, what are we going to do to celebrate?” she asked.

  My mind was a blank. To be honest, I really couldn’t think of anything. Alcohol buzzed in my veins, and I was on a high from the win. No one walked away from a casino with that much money in their pockets and didn’t feel like they were going to spontaneously combust. I was master of my own universe right then. Screw the Stone Cold Club and the Crucifix Six with all their demands on my money. I was invincible.