Page 11 of Poker
“We’re just gonna let him go?” Python snaps. “And where the fuck is the old Crane building?”
“Tracer can figure that out for us,” I say, referring to our tech guy. “And yeah, we’re letting him go. Journey and Screamer are still on the dealers, so if Esteban doesn’t live up to his end, then we’ll handle things ourselves.”
Fortunately, later that night, Estebandoeshold up his end of the deal. His dealers are taken out, and we’re given assurances that our brand will never be on his product again.
As soon as club business is handled, the four of us make our way back to Marble Falls, and the entire way, my brain is flooded with images of a woman in a sleek green dress.
CHAPTER6
MERI
Being Mistress Green gives me confidence and bone-deep knowledge that I can handle myself.
“I fold.”
Poker tosses his cards onto the table before leaning back in his chair. He showed up at the warehouse on his Harley, wearing jeans, a dark Henley, and his cut. And while he was stunning in a tux, he’s mouth-watering in his normal attire.
Tattoos cover his arms and are visible where he has his sleeves shoved up to his elbows. The top two buttons of the Henley are open, and I want to trace my tongue along the ink there.
“Mistress?”
I whip my head toward Malcolm, who’s standing to my left, where he watches over the players and game. “What?”
He nods at the table as he leans close. “The hand is over,” he whispers.
Shaking my head free of my thoughts and returning my attention to the game, I gather the cards.
Poker clears his throat. “So, how’s business, Martin?” he asks the man to his right.
Martin is the head of the largest private cybersecurity firm in Austin, and not a fan of the biker. “I can afford to be here,” he sneers, barely sparing Poker a glance. “More than I can say for you.”
“He’s got a point, Mistress,” Mr. Neero agrees. He came alone tonight, which only serves to make his tongue sharper. “Hell, he couldn’t even bother putting on decent?—”
“That’s enough!” I snap, moving my stare from one player to the next until I’ve taken in each one. “If you don’t like the way I runmyfucking games, you can see yourself out.”
Malcolm bristles beside me, braced for whatever might come from my outburst. When no one speaks, Poker stands and leans his palms on the table.
“If anyone has a problem withme,” he seethes. “Then take it up withme,nother.”
The deadly tone of his words sends shivers down my spine, but not in a bad way. Poker is defending me, and that feels… good. I mean, I can take care of myself, but I appreciate the sentiment, nonetheless.
“No problem,” Stefan states, leaning back in his chair. “If I’m being perfectly honest, I’m quite happy to watch the man no matter what he wears.”
Stefan is gay and has made no bones about what he thinks of Poker. The way he stares at him when they’re both in attendance is intense enough to make me feel like a third wheel in a non-existent relationship.
“Thanks,” Poker says. “I think.”
“I apologize, Mistress,” Mr. Neero says, his tone clipped. “It is not my intention to cause trouble. It just seems like there may be more to Poker being here than for a simple poker game. Especially when he’s the only player who gets away with breaking your rules.”
I breathe deeply, knowing he’s right while simultaneously not giving a damn. My game, my rules, my exceptions to make. And I’ll be fucked if I’m going to let any of these rich bastards try to guilt me into changing the way I do things.
“As I said, if you have a problem with the way things are run, you know where the door is,” I repeat. “Now, either shut up so we can continue or leave. I don’t give a fuck which you choose, but you’ve got five seconds to make up your mind before I make it up for you.”
Silently counting in my head, I get to one, and disappointment slithers through me when Poker turns and walks to the exit and out the door. It’s all I can do not to flinch when it slams behind him, echoing in the large space.
“I see the trash took itself out,” Mr. Neero mutters, and my blood boils.
“Get out,” I say, rage bleeding from my tone.
