Page 82 of Biker's Tribute: Property of Bear

“Good,” he says. “This should be… simple.”

He casts a nervous glance in my direction, but I can’t meet his gaze with so much on the line. What if he loses? What if he wins? Both outcomes could be potentially devastating to Ethan… and honestly, what about Mallory? What about me? I want to trust him, but I’ve never been more terrified in my life.

Or invested. It’s like I’m getting a taste of the anxiety and emotions that Ethan gets wrapped up in while gambling. The game feels more intense than any that I’ve ever played. I mean, I’ve never gambled, but I played Spades before.

What exactly are the odds of him getting close to 21 without going over in just one of the next two hands presented by the dealer? We have too much at stake here and he didn’t miss a beat before agreeing to this. My palms sweat. Mallory doesn’t seem to give much of a fuck, if I’m being honest. It’s her life on the line, her future, but she’s totally calm and resigned.

As a counselor, that worries me too.

Dario decides to stand.

“Ready?” the dealer asks.

Ethan nods.

Bust.

Fuck. Ethan doesn’t look at me, and I don’t blame him. Did he call for backup before coming here? Is this why he’s so calm? He wants me to trust him and finally, my back is against the wall. It’s all an internal process, deciding whether to trust him or not. But I feel this sense of blind trust in this man stronger than anything I’ve ever felt.

The next hand goes smoother, with Ethan barely getting closer to 21 than Diano. The dealer gathers the cards and reshuffles before dealing the last hand.

The dealer puts down a 10 in front of Ethan.

The next card down is a Queen.

It’s exactly 21. Holy shit. Ethan won. I don’t know how he did it, or how he seems so calm and completely unmoved by winning when the stakes have never been higher, but… he won.

“What just happened?” Mallory asks drunkenly. The momentary relief I felt from Ethan’s win transforms quickly into my darkest fears. What’s going to happen depends on the honor of the men inside this room. I can’t tell from looking at them if they’ll respect the rules of the game and Ethan’s victory, or if Mallory will suffer…

“I won,” Ethan announces calmly. “A deal is a deal. I don’t want problems. I just want to take Amanda home.”

His voice crackles a little when he says my name. I hear the intensity in his tone and his words tug on my heart.I just want to take Amanda home.I feel something so strong for this man that it’s difficult to put into words. He has the potential to make me so angry but… even my best friend sees how much he loves me.

If he lost her, though? What would have happened?

“A deal might be a deal,” Dario says with visible disappointment, but no apprehension suggesting dishonesty. “But we still have more guns and that woman is still our sister.”

Mallory rolls her eyes. “I’m so sick of this.”

She’s drunk, so I want to forgive her for the unhelpful contribution, but it clearly angers Dario, who turns his gaze on her with such cruelty and anger that a shiver goes straight down my spine. It’s even worse because of the strong family resemblance that makes me wonder how I didn’t notice how Italian Mallory looked before.

“We need you. I have nothing to do with what that old bastard did to you. The least you could do is give a shit about someone other than yourself for once.”

“Howdareyou!” Mallory says, standing up and slamming her hands into the table so hard that the wine bottle and the glasses rattle.

It’s the kind of undirected drunken statement that stops everyone in their tracks and buys time, but leads to Mallory’s brothers just gazing at her in confusion.

“This is justbullshit.”

Another drunk girl argument. Girl, you better land the plane…

Ethan seems to agree. He looks at me with worry written all over his face and then we all snap our attention to Mallory’s front door as a tall, red-haired man pushes the door in and struts into her townhome.

Um… HELLO?

Ethan doesn’t even get up when they enter, even if they look armed and dangerous enough to blow our heads off. And worse… they’re carrying guns.

“Hands in the air,” the red-head says. “One move and I paint the walls.”

---