Page 8 of Wild Card
I stepped away, but Jim Gold called out, “Deputy, one more thing!”
I turned back, wary. “Yes, sir?”
“Thank you for speaking up for Emory and those foster boys when all that mess went down with the sheriff’s son. I know that probably wasn’t easy. You did the right thing.”
I dipped my head. It sure as hell had not been easy. Sheriff Hale hadn’t let me forget that my loyalty should have been to him.
“Wish I could have done more,” I said.
“You still can,” the mayor said.
Damn it. I’d walked right into that one.
I shook my head. “You don’t want that. Trust me.”
I strode away before they could try to convince me I was a better man than I was. I loved my job, but I shouldn’t be the one making the calls when other people’s lives were on the line.
I hadn’t run away from Phoenix with my tail between my legs just to repeat the same mistakes.
CHAPTER 3
Axel
I threw backa shot of tequila and grimaced as it burned a trail all the way to my gut. “Ugh, this cheap shit is the worst.”
“Best profit, though,” Jett said, eyes gleaming as he surveyed the piles of cash on the poker tables—guys trading it back and forth as they won and lost at cards, trash-talking, swearing, sometimes threatening one another.
That money wasn’t ours. To the victor went the spoils and all. We made our cash on the price of admission, along with liquor sales.
A guy won more cash? He bought rounds of celebratory drinks. A guy lost more cash? He drank away his regrets.
We couldn’t lose.
Fox stood up. “I’m out of money. Shit. That went too damn fast.”
Jett rubbed his hands together. “That’s my cue. Time to go run this table.”
He took Fox’s chair with a predatory smile. “Deal me in.”
Jett was a hell of a card shark. Everyone knew it, too.
Rick stood up and went to the other table, grabbing a chair that had just been vacated by someone else who blew their wad too soon.
Faith tossed down her cards. “Shoot, I’m down to my last few dollars as it is. You’ll wipe me out.”
Jett smirked. “Sorry, darlin’. I play to win.”
She fingered her cards suggestively. “Well, maybe we could both win if you spot me some cash now and I repay you later?”
It was clear from her tone that she wasn’t going to be paying him back in dollar bills.
Jett’s gaze flickered over her body. “Tempting.”
“Faith, you know we don’t do IOUs,” I called.
Jett hadn’t met a boundary he wouldn’t cross, but I didn’t want her using sex as currency. If we let her do it once, she’d be working these tables over every chance she got.
“It’s not an IOU. It’s an exchange of goods,” she said. “You do that all the time.”
