Page 39 of Wild Card (Advantage Play 1)

“You mean since Vince wound up dead? Nope. Everyone is perfectly content with the current set up in the family, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon.”

“Even though we might go to war with the Allegrettis?” I push before flipping the switch on the lights and blanketing the exercise room in darkness.

“Those pussies?” He waves me off as we walk down the hall. “Nah. They’re practically chomping at the bit to finally put those overconfident assholes in their place.”

“Good. Because their chance is just around the corner.”

“And they wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Ace

Anytime I walk into a familiar casino, I always get a weird sense of déjà vu. Sometimes it’s euphoric if I left with a fat stack of cash. Sometimes a little bitter if it was a bad night, and I lost. This time, however, that same sense of déjà vu is followed by a dull ache in my cheek from getting smacked around, and a wave of anticipation in my lower gut at the potential of seeing Kingston again.

Walking straight to the blackjack tables, I pull out five hundred bucks to start my night. I always keep my extra money tucked away in my backpack for when I need to cash in a bit more. It makes me look like a gambling addict instead of a strategic counter who’s planning on sticking around for the evening.

With puckered lips and a platinum blonde wig, I settle into my persona for the evening––a wannabe grunge rockstar who’s looking to score some cash for her drug addiction.

My eyes are rimmed with thick charcoal-colored eyeliner as I watch the cards being dealt.

A few hands later, I’m practically yelling at the poor beginner to my left, feeling guilty as hell for making her feel bad, but I can’t break character.

“Fuck this shit. You’re not supposed to hit on a sixteen, Lucinda. Ever heard of basic strategy?”

The poor girl’s cheeks are on fire as the dealer hands her another card, resulting in her total number being twenty-three.

She busted.

With a sigh, the girl gets up to leave, and I don’t stop her.

I might’ve been harsh, but I wasn’t lying. If she doesn’t know basic strategy, she’s practically handing the casinos her hard-earned cash, and they don’t deserve it.

“Basic strategy, huh?” the dealer quips, grabbing my attention.

Casually, I lean back in my chair, giving him a bit of attitude while still keeping the count in my head.

“Yeah. Basic strategy. You got a problem with that?” Basic strategy isn’t illegal. Hell, it’s almost common knowledge at the tables, so it’s not like I’m divulging any sensitive information.

“Nope.”

We stay this way, mainly in silence with the occasional shout of profanities from my mouth when I lose a big hand until the count starts to get hot and I clean up like a seasoned pro.

When the chair squeaks on my left, I look to see the asshole who hit me the last time I was here and lose the triumphant smile I’d been wearing seconds before.

What the hell?

I’ve never been caught, and now it’s twice by the same gorilla? I thought Kingston would’ve known to call off his dogs, but maybe the idiot doesn’t recognize me.

“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to come with me.”

Narrowing my gaze, I bite out, “I don’t think so.”

I’d rather get thrown out the front door than be taken to the basement again by this jerk. With a curse on the tip of my tongue, I scratch the top of my wig and consider pulling it off for a split second before restraining myself. Although, part of me wishes I could reveal my true identity because I’m pretty sure if the pit boss knew it was me, he’d be quaking in his boots.

However, when he subtly tilts his head behind him, my gaze follows only to connect with a satisfied looking Kingston standing near the back wall. The heat in his eyes is scorching as he folds his arms over his broad chest and smirks from his partially hidden view near an empty corridor.

Sneaky bastard.

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