Page 54 of Wild Card (Advantage Play 1)

Come on, come on, come on, come on, I chant in my head.

It’s a three.

I won! But he doesn’t know that yet.

Chance has us show our hands, and his jaw nearly drops when he sees my pair of sixes combined with the six on the table.

With gritted teeth, a frustrated Texas throws his cards onto the black felt before shoving away from the table and storming off as an ever-professional Chance reaches for them and turns his hand over to reveal that Texas had a pair of kings.

My grin nearly splits my face in two as I stare at his losing hand while a round of applause echoes throughout the casino.

After soaking up the win for a few seconds, I drag my prize from the center of the table and start to stack the chips in front of me.

“Not bad,” Patrick adds with an impressed smirk.

“Why, thank you,” I quip, my pulse spiking with a fresh wave of adrenaline.

Another one bites the dust.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Ace

Poker can be draining. Really draining. A low throb at the base of my skull is making itself known as I continue tossing my antes into the pile, winning some hands and losing others. Patrick lost about thirty minutes ago in a brutal hand with Burlone. I was actually a little sad to see him go. He was pretty funny with his offhand comments and made this feel more like a game instead of a risky revenge strategy. He had a way of settling my nerves and distracting me from the man across from me, and I’ll miss his interference. As he got up from the table after losing, he gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze before whispering, “Kick his ass, Mace. I’ll be rooting for ya.”

With a sympathetic smile, I replied, “I’ll try.”

And boy, am I trying.

Rolling my shoulders, I let out a brief yawn when Chance deals another hand. It feels like the thousandth one for the night. I’ve decided the adrenaline has worn off, and I need to recover from the rollercoaster of emotions I’ve been through this evening, but it’s not over yet. In fact, it feels like it’ll never be over.

“Getting tired, Ms. Johnson?” Burlone rumbles from his side of the table. I flinch when he addresses me, but cover it with another yawn to hide my fear. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being so close to him, and I’m itching to run in the opposite direction.

But first, I need to win.

“Sure am.” I take a look at my cards, ignoring Burlone’s heavy stare.

“Care to make it interesting?”

With a sigh, I force myself to give him my attention while adding my ante to the pot. Over the last few hands, the ante has been raised to help end the tournament more quickly, but he and I seem to keep tugging the chips back and forth, depending on the cards that are dealt.

“And playing with hundreds of thousands of dollars isn’t interesting?” I quip, maintaining my persona.

The crowd laughs while Burlone only looks mildly amused. “In a different game, I’d suggest playing with something other than money on the line, Ms. Johnson. In fact, I think I could have a great deal of fun with a different set of rules.” His gaze slides over me, leaving a filmy residue on my skin that makes me desperate for a shower. “But in this particular instance, I meant something much more appropriate for the public eye.”

My mouth floods with bitter acid, but I swallow it back. I think I’m going to be sick.

A hushed silence replaces the earlier lightness in the crowd. It’s as if they can feel the same commanding presence as I can.

With another thick swallow, I force myself to stay calm. I’ve seen this side of Burlone. The charismatic, egotistical prick with double meanings woven into every syllable. The thought is almost enough to make me pause, but I press forward.

“What do you have in mind?” The smile I give him feels like plastic, but I think he’s too self-absorbed to notice.

“Five hands. That’s how many we have left to play. You can still bet or fold or whatever the hell you want, but we only play for five more rounds. That way, you won’t miss your bedtime.” He adds a wink for good measure, lightening the mood all over again. The crowd chuckles around me as he waits for my response.

“Sir,” Chance interrupts. “That’s against the rules.”

“Not really, though. I mean, if we both agree to it, then what’s the harm?”

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