Page 13 of Reluctant Surrender

I cleared my throat then took a long sip of my drink as the cards were dealt.

“Mags, we should take a trip to Vegas. Just you and me. We’d make a killing.” Johnny shuffled his hand between his fingers.

“I don’t like Vegas,” I said, filing my cards the way I liked them. In order by number and by suits. “Too hot.”

He laughed. “We could go in the winter, it’s a bit cooler then.”

I tossed in my ante, five hundred dollars. “Ask me in the winter then.” I grinned and gestured toward his dwindling stack of chips. “You gonna ante?”

He pushed the chips then settled his gaze on his cards. The guy sitting two seats to the left of Stanley scratched behind his ear then bit his tongue. He had a garbage hand.

“I’ll bet three hundred.” Stanley tossed in his coins before I could give him the signal to bet low. I wanted the bad hand to at least stick around for the second deal, but there he went scratching his damn ear again.

“I’ll call.” I threw in my chips.

“I’ll raise another hundred.” Johnny tossed in chips for four hundred dollars. When his hand came back to his cards, he traced the corner with his thumb then reshuffled. When he finished, he curled his hand inward toward him. He had a good hand. Johnny became overprotective of his cards when he was about to take the pot.

Ear-Scratcher shook his head and tossed his cards down.

“I’m out.” He wasn’t a risk taker, that’s how he lasted so long in the game. He wouldn’t bet on a shit hand.

“Here’s the hundred and I’ll raise another two.” Stanley tossed in his chips.

My eyes widened. What the fuck was he doing? He was going too fast, and he was taking out the wrong player. Johnny bet big when he thought he could win. We needed him to help take out the more reluctant guy first.

“I’m out.” I tossed my cards down and folded my hands. “You boys fight it out,” I said then cleared my throat once more. But Stanley either didn’t care or wasn’t paying attention.

“I’ll call.” Johnny tossed in his bet; the chips collided with the others piled up in the middle of the table. The guys who’d already tapped out huddled around the table watching.

“Full house.” Stanley placed his cards down with a proud grin.

“Ah. Four of a kind, fives.” Johnny laid his hand on the table and burst into a loud laugh as he brought in his winnings. Stanley glanced my way, panic in his eyes. He had enough chips to get through one more hand if the bets stayed low. I was going to have to get the other two to bet high then fold so I could let him have the pot so we could get back on track.

The host of the game, a man by the name of Sammy Bertonelli, sank into the chair beside Stanley with a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. I’d noticed him standing in the corner when the game had started. He’d been casually watching the room. He looked like one of the security guys, making sure no one got out of hand.

“You want in, boss?” the dealer asked as he shuffled. My jaw tensed.

“No. Thank you, Jimmy.” He took a drag of his smoke then pulled it from his mouth. “You’re doing well tonight, Stan.” He flicked his ash into an ashtray that appeared at his side. “You’ve never lasted this long before.”

Shit.

I glanced up at Stanley. We’d talked about staying calm. Not showing how nervous he might be on his face.

“Been practicing, boss.” He forced a wiry smile.

Boss.

Stanley obviously left out a very important bit of information when he asked me to help him. He’d left out that he worked for an underboss. I should have noticed it. With the extra security. The code word being in Italian. Bertonelli. It was a name I’d heard in passing, but until the dealer called him boss, until Stanley did the same, I hadn’t put it together.

“Huh.” Sammy tucked his cigarette between his lips again then plucked the cards from Stanley’s hand to examine them. Marking cards wouldn’t work in a game of this style. These tournament-style games were better worked how I had it planned out. It took a lot of skill on my part, but it was a cleaner way. Sammy could check the cards all he wanted; he wouldn’t find anything.

“Good luck then.” He tossed the cards back at Stanley, face down so as not to ruin the hand. Which was good, because I’d been dealt a three of a kind.

Sammy didn’t move from his seat, his eyes watched all of us as we went around the table betting, raising, and calling and then folding. In the end, I’d won the hand.

But Ear-Scratcher still had enough chips to last two more hands if we paced it out. And with Sammy’s eyes on us, we’d have to do that.

“Mags, you’ve met Sammy before, right?” Johnny struck up a conversation while the next hand went out.

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