Page 13 of Wild Card (Advantage Play 1)

“Who was Joe?” Gigi probes.

“He was a regular of my mom’s. For years, I thought he was her boyfriend. But looking back, I think he just had a soft spot for her and me.” My eyes glaze over slightly, taking me back to those times in my trailer.

Shaking my head, I keep explaining, “Anyway…on the nights Burlone didn’t come over, Joe did. He didn’t hit my mom or me. He was actually a pretty good guy. I’d seen him play cards with Burlone, so I began to get braver. It started with me getting a glass of water while Joe was leaving the trailer, then changed to me shuffling a worn deck of cards when he’d step out of my mom’s room. He’d smile kindly, tip his head in my direction, then leave. That was it. And then…one day, I got the courage to ask him if he played. I knew he played because I’d seen him with Burlone, but he didn’t know that. His eyes softened when I caught his attention, and he pulled out a chair. From there, he taught me everything he knew. And between all of it, I figured out how to play. How to keep my emotions in check. And how to read my opponents better than your average Joe.” I laugh. “No pun intended.”

With my story finished, I lean my back against the cushion. Normally, I’d be annoyed that Dottie hasn’t come over to take my order, but tonight, I’m not exactly hungry.

“So what makes you so sure you can beat Burlone?”

“I’m not.” I shrug. “But it’s the only way I can think of to hurt him the way he hurt me.”

“What do you mean? I mean…” she rushes. “I know he hurt you, but why do you have this long vendetta?”

Closing my eyes, I take a few deep breaths before opening them and addressing Gigi’s question. “The day my mom disappeared, I found Burlone’s old deck of cards on the table. They’re the ones I carry in my backpack.”

“The gold ones?”

“Yeah. I know he took her. I know he probably killed her. And I know that he has no remorse for tearing my family apart. My mom and I might not have been on great terms, but she did the best she could even if that meant spreading her legs for any guy that contacted Burlone for a ride. And then, Burlone made her vanish into thin air, leaving me a sad, pathetic little twelve-year-old to fend for herself in the foster care system.”

Raising my arms, I give her a set of sarcastic jazz hands. “Ta-da.”

A dry laugh escapes her before she sobers slightly. “You’re pretty screwed up, Ace.”

I chuckle. “Thanks for your assessment.”

With a grin, she adds, “I’m pretty screwed up, too.”

“Two peas in a pod?” I tease her.

“Yeah, Ace. Two peas in a pod.”

Chapter Eight

Ace

Charlette. Oh, Charlette. My favorite casino ever. Walking into the classic hotel, I breathe a sigh of relief. After Sin a few nights ago, I couldn’t be happier to be on more comfortable turf. Hell, this place is practically my second home. Other than Dottie’s, of course.

Tugging at the hem of my black dress, I head for the blackjack tables.

The night passes at a snail’s pace when the deck finally starts to get hot. Betting big, I can barely contain the grin that spreads across my face when the dealer places a shit-ton of chips in front of me.

Going for another round, I keep the stack on the table for the next hand. Again, it pays out.

Moments later, a set of strong hands grab my upper arms when a husky voice laced with smoke fills my ears. “Excuse me, miss. I’m going to need you to come with me.”

I hold my breath then peek over my shoulder to see the pit boss hovering a few inches away as his fingers dig into my bicep.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

With a thick swallow, I murmur, “Umm…sure.”

I reach for my purse and chips, but the pit boss shakes his head. “You can come get them when we’re finished.” I look toward the dealer to see his eyes shining with pity, and I know I’m in deep trouble.

I’ve heard these horror stories before. They’re rare, but they happen, which is why I’ve always had my rules in place. My heart is pounding against my ribcage as I force my legs to hold my weight. With a tip of his head, the angry pit boss guides me to the elevators and presses the down button.

Shit.

We’re going to the basement. Nothing good happens in basements.

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