Page 63 of Queen Of WildCards

"Yourfloor manager's standing right here.Perhapsyou'd like to talk to her instead?"

Herhusband wrangled the phone from her, his frown evident in the tone of his rumbling baritone. "Givethe phone toJanet;I'lltalk to her."

Ishrugged, a slow smile spreading over my lips. "Sure,I'llhand you toJanet."

AsIheld the phone out in her direction,Mallory'seyes followed the way she pressed her arms together outside her bosom to push those puppies into my face.Hersnort of derision was laughable and cute.

"Youmight tell your manager to put her tits away and stop flirting with customers, too," she quipped, low enough for onlyJanetto hear—or so she thought.

IheardCandlestick'sknowing laugh over the line as he cleared his throat and waited forJanet'smeek'yes, sir?'.

Twominutes later, we had the best seat in the house, in my opinion—right by the kitchen, in the corner, where we could put our backs to the room or against that wall, high-backed booths giving us some cover, which was ideal for the thingsIplanned to do to this fiery, jealous little vixen the secondIhad her penned in next to me.Therewas a bottle of the house wine chilling in an ice bath in the center of the mahogany surface, a basket of fresh bread next to it, and five wine glasses asI'ddemanded.

Janetwas nowhere to be seen; our waiter was a younger man with a soft smile and a scar that told of a past that didn't match his sweet personality.JustKaz'stype she liked to hire—men with a sordid past and a need for retribution and a second chance.

MenlikeCandlestickand myself.

"WhatcanIget started for you three while you wait on your other guests to arrive?"

Malloryslid into the booth, andIhustled to slip in after her, shoving her to the end to keepJokerfrom taking her other side.Iwanted her totally at my mercy, thoughIdidn't think she'd turn to him for help with how she felt about him right now.

"Watersall around, my good man.We'regoing to need them."

CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT

BLACKJACK

"So, where to?"

Aceslid into the front seat with a groan, his sleek form settling into the chair with a slight flinch.He'dtaken a good hit from the asshole who'd gotten the jump on us atJohnny's, and a bat to the spine was enough to knock most men out for quite a while.

Acewasn't like most men.Beatingswere a regular training exercise for men destined for theYakuza.

"Kaz's, according toSpade.Claimshe's got a surprise."

Acerolled his eyes and leaned against the cool glass of the window asIpulled out of park. "Ihope it's fucking alcohol, for once.Icould use a good bottle ofKaz'shouse chianti."

KnowingSpade,Idoubted it had anything to do with alcohol and everything to do with the pretty little therapistIwas currently trying to avoid.

* * *

Turnedout,we were both pleasantly—or not—surprised.Therewas,in fact, a chilled bottle of the house chianti sitting front and center of the table, and two empty glasses waiting for us.Jokersat at the table with a grim look on his face, like he might be sick, andIchuckled at the desperation on his face, taking note of the missing members of the party.

LookedlikeMissStantonhad picked a favorite for the night, andJokerhad lost out.

Aceslid in next toJoker, andIstayed standing, surveying the scene like usual asIwaited for the missing two to rejoin us.

Ihad a thing about sitting on the edge of the booth, andIwasn't in the mood to do a lot of sitting-standing fire drill shit, soIwould wait.

Whythat turned out to be a mistake surprised me,I'llnever know.Iseemed to have the worst luck lately where this woman was concerned.

Thesegoons had dressed her in a fucking whore's dress, and one that was far too small for her to boot.Herlegs went on for miles beneath the high-rising hem, and the top was so small her tits nearly fell out of the shelf they balanced precariously on.AndifIwasn't mistaken, she wasnotwearing a bra.

Onthe outside,Iwas silently fuming.Onthe inside,Iwanted to take off my coat, throw it around her, and whisk her out of there.Everyonestared at her as she teetered past them in those skyline-tall stilettos wrapped around her feet, a hand or two darting out almost as if to cop a feel, untilImet their gazes and conveyed the likelihood of their death should they complete the thought.

Idistinctly remembered the girl who'd worn that dress toJoker'sbedroom two months ago.She'dbeen wasted, whiny, and a complete druggie, high off her ass when she walked in, high off her ass when she stumbled out in a pair of sweats and a tee that had seen better days.Sheabandoned her dress and shoes in her haste to get the fuck out of our compound afterAcemade it clear she'd be lucky to keep her life if she muttered a word about her time there.

Shewouldn't last long on the streets, anyhow.

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