Page 66 of Business or Pleasure

I didn’t have to wait long. Two hands later, I was glancing down at two Jacks. Then I raised my head and saw Lucius raise ten thousand. A large bet and everybody folded, except me. I waited and evaluated my options. I had a great hand, especially if he was bluffing. But was he? I hadn’t seen any twitching this time around. I almost folded my hand, then I noticed it. A very slight twitch above his left eye.

Then another.

Here went…everything.

“I’m all in,” I announced, and pushed my stack of chips into the middle of the table. Fifty thousand dollars.

He immediately called and turned over two black Kings.

Shit.

My Jacks were no match. I’d need another Jack to win and there were only two Jacks left in the whole deck. Less than five percent chance.

Sometimes I really hated how good I was with numbers.

And, of course, with just my luck, I didn’t get any help from the deck.

It was all gone in one hand. Fifty thousand bucks.

Fuck!

I was duped. Like a fucking beginner, I fell for one of the oldest tricks. He pretended to have a tell, then used it against me when the pot was huge. I pushed back my chair and stood, feeling completely deflated.

Alesini really was as good as everyone said he was.

And I was completely and totally fucked.

My only hope now was to leave. Tell Franklin that he had to hide. Get myself out of Seattle and make a new life somewhere else.

Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, a thick Scottish accent broke through the chatter. “I’ll take her place, aye?” Baylen stepped up next to me, but didn’t look at me as he flashed a fifty-thousand-dollar chip.

Baylen? What the hell was he doing here? How did he find me?

Why did he find me?

“Of course. Please.” Alesini made a dismissive gesture at me.

I stood without really thinking, moving out of pure self-preservation. My mind was still whirling with questions, all focused on the man I never expected to see again.

“Just don’t be dealing me the ‘Dead Man’s’ hand,” Baylen said as he took my seat.

People at the table laughed, but his words hit me like a punch.

The dead man’s hand was the famous poker hand that gunfighter Wild Bill Hickok was holding when he was shot in the back. Pretty much anyone who knew anything about poker or Old West history knew about that. Baylen using it, however, considering his background, was…odd, to say the least. That, plus the way he used it told me it was something else.

It was the code Franklin and I used to signal that we were doing his “Peekaboo” con. I was a kid and good at looking innocent. He would bring me to some game and tell me to go amuse myself. I would take a book, position myself behind the person we thought was the “whale” at the table, and sneak a peek when he looked at his cards. If he then bluffed, I would discreetly touch my nose to indicate he didn’t have a hand. Just a kid scratching the side of my nose while reading a book.

Franklin spent months rehearsing with me before I could work the con flawlessly. I had to be able to time a glance at the cards the same time the player did without making it obvious that I was looking anywhere other than my book, see all of the cards, and remember what they were. I also had to know the game well enough to know if it was a good hand or not.

I could still do it, even without the book, because no one here knew that Baylen and I knew each other. I just hoped he knew how to hold up his end of things, because if he didn’t he was just as fucked as I was.

Thirty-One

Baylen

The moment I realized what sort of place this was, I just wanted to grab Harlee and get her out. I had no issues with women who worked at any sort of club, as long as it was consensual. Considering the threat Franklin told me the men made against Harlee, I wondered just how many of the women here were under duress.

That, however, wasn’t why I was here.

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