Page 9 of Tainted Love

“No.” I watch her eyes carefully for any tells. She doesn’t glance away from her cards, not even a single look in my direction to check me for tells. Definitely not an amateur. “Only that you were everything he had.” I grab two quarters from my pile and set them between us.

She scoffs and adds three quarters to the pot, raising my bet. “Unfortunately, that’s probably true.”

“Is it?”

“Well, you’re a Zappia,” she says, glancing over her cards. “I’m assuming the family knows more about his losses than I do.”

“I’m not a Zappia.”

“You’re not?”

I shake my head before laying my hand down, revealing my cards. “Pair of aces.”

Lucy stares at me. “Why do you work for the Zappia family if you’re not family?”

“They pay well.”

She lays down her hand. “Two pair.”

I check her cards. Queens and threes. “Not bad.”

She pushes the cards over to me and I pick them up to shuffle them. “How long have you worked for them?” she asks as she gathers her winnings.

“A few months.”

“And they already trust you enough to go out and kill deadbeat gamblers?”

I split the deck and shuffle it with quick fingers. “I had a good résumé. Ante up.”

She tosses a quarter between us. “Who did you work for before the Zappia family?”

I smile with tight lips while dealing five cards at her. “How did we go from your dancing career to my work history?”

She takes her cards and snaps her fingers at me. “Keep up, Mr. Hart.”

“Dante.”

“I’m not calling you that.”

“Why not?”

“Because first names are informal.”

“You’re sitting on my floor, drinking whiskey, and playing cards. If that’s not informal, I’d love to know what you think this is.”

She flicks three cards into the center. “Three, please.”

I pull three cards from the deck and set them between us, allowing for my fingers to linger above them. She reaches out but quickly halts before her fingertips graze mine. Her eyes fire back at me, savvy and cold. I slide my hand away and she snatches the cards off the floor.

“This,” she says, “is a formal meeting.”

“A meeting?” I chuckle.

“Yes, a meeting.”

“And just what order of business do we have on the schedule today, Ms. Vaughn?”

“Kicking your punk ass at poker, for starters.”

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