Page 31 of Wild Card (Advantage Play 1)

Tossing a look over my shoulder, I nearly roll my eyes. “Hey, stalker.”

Jack gasps in faux shock before dramatically clutching his chest. “Ouch. That hurts, Ace.”

“Sure it does,” I tease. “What are you doing here?”

“Making the rounds, like always.” He shrugs. “What are you doing here?”

“Making the rounds, like always.”

Scratching his chin, he shakes his head. “You sure about that? I didn’t see you at the tables, but I did see you talking to the concierge.”

With a smirk, I quip, “See what I mean? Stalker.”

“Whatever. You saw me at the blackjack tables, not hiding in the shadows. It’s not my fault you stick out like a sore thumb, and I noticed you were here.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Sorry, Ace,” Jack apologizes. “But a pretty girl like you was never meant to blend in.”

I’m taken aback by his compliment, recognizing that Kingston used the same one to describe me the first night we met. Chewing my lower lip––it’s a bad habit––I let the awkward silence swallow us both. Only the constant buzz of slot machines breaks it.

“Anyway…” he changes the subject, sensing my discomfort. “Why were you talking to the concierge?”

“No reason,” I bluff.

He doesn’t believe me. “You gonna play?”

“Play what?” Batting my lashes up at him, I go for innocence, yet he sees right through me.

“Don’t play dumb, Ace. It doesn’t suit you.”

Breathing a sigh, I push Rule #6 aside. “Yeah. I’m gonna play.”

I can’t believe I just admitted that out loud. Telling Gigi is one thing, but talking about it with a casual acquaintance makes the truth more real. I just signed up to play in a tournament against Burlone. I just put fifty thousand dollars of hard-earned cash on the table in order to compete against the man who stars in my nightmares. What the hell am I doing?

“And you know what you’re doing?” Jack’s expression is filled with concern as he waits for my reply while making me want to laugh at the fact that he just read my mind.

Sobering, I reply, “Yeah. I know what I’m doing.”

Or at least I sure as hell hope so.

With a nod, he offers, “If you ever need anything, just let me know, okay?”

Lifting my thumb, I chew on the fingernail and glance around the room before I give Jack my attention again. “Yeah. Thanks. I should probably get going though….”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll see you around, Ace.”

“See ya, stalker,” I razz, causing him to laugh at my attempt to lighten the mood.

Shaking his head, he turns back toward the blackjack tables for another round while I head to the parking lot with the intention of going home.

I’ve had enough casinos for one night.

Chapter Eighteen

Kingston

My phone rings, pulling me out of the chaotic jumble of export documents sitting on the top of my desk.

---