by Toni Leland
Mohammed burned the top card, and laid down the three-card flop. Jack of spades, a pair of sixes. Jess raised the pot another three thousand. Kee and the sheikh matched it.
The sheikh again discarded the top card on the deck, and dealt the turn card. A six. Jess tossed another thousand into the pot, Kee folded, and Mohammed called her.
Despite the exciting possibility of winning a large amount on the first hand, Jess’s breathing remained even, her pulse calm, her face expressionless as she waited for the river card. A second later, the queen of spades’ benevolent smile radiated from the soft green baize.
Jess glanced across the table at Mohammed, searching for a possible hint of his position. She added a thousand dollars to the pile on the table. Mohammed stared at his cards for a moment, then smiled foolishly and pushed them into the center with the chips.
As the evening progressed, Jess relaxed into the game, her poker hands fluctuating between moderately good and fantastic. She placed prudent bets, won most of the deals, and gained a good impression of the other players and their competence. The sheikh was a rash bettor, drawing on chips from the endless stack at his elbow, but his skill didn’t match his enthusiasm. The Texan did a lot of verbal swaggering and wasn’t much of a bluffer.
Jess considered the group. With the exception of Mohammed and herself, the players were merely better than average butts-in-chairs to fill out the game. Briefly, she wondered if Elvora had purposely collected players who’d be no threat to the sheikh’s ego.
The chips in front of her totaled about sixty-thousand dollars. The next deal went down, and she lifted the edges of her cards. A nine and the ace of hearts. Nothing spectacular, but the house cards could change that. Nate Jackson opened the betting with three thousand, and Jess decided to pass until she saw the flop.
The sheikh raised his eyebrows. “Being cautious?”
Jess smiled, but didn’t respond. Familiarity and chat could be deadly. Mohammed pushed fifteen-thousand into the pile.
The flop cards hit the table, and Jess swallowed an almost automatic sigh of relief. Her instinct had prevailed again. A queen, a deuce, and a nine.
The sheikh smiled, his face flushed and features relaxed from the bottomless tumbler of Scotch he’d been nursing all evening.
“Just to make the pot interesting, I will throw in one of my best horses.”
Jess grinned across the table. “What on earth would I do with a Thoroughbred?”
He roared with laughter at her cocky attitude, and the Texan snorted.
“She’s right. Only horses worth a damn are Quarter Horses. Working horses.”
Jess bristled, then brushed her irritation away. The idiot wasn’t worth sacrificing her concentration.
Ten minutes later, Mohammed called for a break, and Jess counted her winnings. Ninety thousand dollars and a racehorse. Not bad for a girl.
Elvora appeared, a sparkle in her chocolate-colored eyes. “You’re a worthy opponent for Mohammed. He’s thoroughly enjoying himself.”
Jess glanced at the sheikh as he headed for the bar.
“That’s good, but I’m getting tired. Do you know how much longer he’ll want to play?”
Elvora’s laugh rumbled, deep and rich, “Until he wins, of course!”
Nate Jackson and the two Arabs did not return to the poker table after the break. Jess glanced surreptitiously at Jimmy Kee. His stack of chips had changed very little during the evening. A cautious player, and not much fun. She checked the sheikh’s stake. He’d lost most of the hands, but his stack of chips had more than doubled. Obviously, he’d added to his playing funds. She looked at her own pile and relief swept through her tired body. Mission accomplished.
The sheikh dealt, and Jess folded. A four and a six held no promise, and fatigue slipped in, taking the edge off her concentration. She took a sip of water, wishing she could gracefully leave the game, but as long as she was winning, she’d have to stay in. She glanced at Samir, deep in conversation with the Arabs. He waved his hands around as he spoke rapidly in Arabic, his features animated. She wondered idly what they were talking about.
“Miss Jessica? It is your deal.”
She jumped. “Sorry.”
A minute later, she held the ten and five of hearts. She watched the sheikh ponder his cards, his indecision caused either by a poor hand, or the abundance of alcohol he’d consumed through the evening. Tsk, tsk. Practice what you preach. Finally, Mohammed tossed five thousand into the pot, and the play moved to Jimmy Kee. He stared at his cards for a moment, then slid them into the center of the table. Jess pushed her bet into the center, just to see where things were headed.
The flop consisted of a jack, a ten, and the four of hearts. Mohammed remained cautious with another bet of five thousand.
Jess matched him. For a pair, I’ll stay in.
A five hit the table. Two pair. Things are looking better. Again, she matched the bet. The river card went down: a four. She glanced up at Mohammed and a blip skittered through her pulse. His shoulders straightened just the tiniest bit, but his features remained serene.
He pushed a small stack of chips into the center.
Okay, that’s it. Jess laid her cards face-down on the table.
With a huge grin and a flourish, Mohammed laid a four on the table and scooped up thirty-five thousand dollars.
Rising from his chair, he nodded at her. “I will refresh my drink and then we will play one more hand, just you and I. Agreed?”
Weariness crawled over her shoulders, but she nodded. I have over a hundred thousand dollars and a new horse. I can afford to be magnanimous. I’ll let him win the next one, then I’m outta here.
When the sheikh returned to the table, his movements were sluggish, his speech a little slurred. He’s so smashed, it might be hard to even give him this hand. Jess averted her eyes and moved her chips around, neatly aligning them with the edge of the table.
The deal went out, and her charity disappeared. She held the king and ace of spades. She glanced up through her lashes at Mohammed, who moved his cards around on the table and fiddled with his chips. He finally pushed ten thousand into the center. Hesitating for only a moment, Jess matched the bet. The flop went down, and Jess tried to conceal her disbelief. A ten, jack, and queen. Sorry, Charlie, I’m not throwing this hand after all. You can save face another time.
The sheikh gazed across the table and smiled, his white teeth glistening beneath his heavy black moustache. Jess nodded, but kept any expression from her eyes. Mohammed raised the bet, briefly disrupting her smug feeling. He’s just drunk. . .doesn’t know what he’s doing. She matched the bet.
The turn card came into play. The ace of diamonds. Mohammed pushed another ten thousand into the center. Without hesitation, Jess matched it.
The river card–the nine of hearts. Jess struggled to keep from grinning. Mohammed’s dark eyes burned across the table, sending shivers of both excitement and apprehension through her head. He’d be really pissed if she cleaned him out.
He smiled and nodded his head slowly. “Let us make it very exciting.”
He pushed his entire stack of chips into the center of the table. “I’m all in.”
For a brief second, Jess had the impression that his inebriation had passed and he was in complete control. He’s bluffing. There’s no way he’s going to beat a royal flush. She struggled to maintain her calm facade. The pot contained enough money to keep her out of debt forever, but if she lost. . . Her heart hammered against her ribs, her composure shot.
The room grew very quiet, tension hanging in the air like tentacles. Slowly, she pushed all her chips into the center of the table. Anticipation simmered in the pit of her stomach as she closed in for the kill.
She smiled wickedly. “Your Sheikh-ness, I call you.”
In slow motion, Mohammed’s well-manicured fingers turned over two aces.
Chapter 23
Wonderful game! You are, indeed, a formidable opponent.” Sheikh Mohammed smiled ea
gerly. “Perhaps we can play again sometime?”
Jess stared at him. “You just lost a bundle and you’re happy about it?”
He chuckled. “Of course–it’s only money.” He leaned close and murmured, “I understand you need it more than I do.”
Anger churned through her chest, but before she could reply, he bowed deeply.
“Until we meet again, may Allaah keep you.”
He moved away toward Samir’s group.
Elvora appeared, holding a cashier’s check. “May I call you again sometime?”
Jess managed a tired smile. “No, but thanks anyway.”
With one last glance at the animated group of men, she slipped out the door into the quiet hall and headed for the elevator. Fatigue and anger clanged in her head, disturbing her thought patterns. Relief over her good fortune battled with the unsettling circumstances of Samir’s presence in her private life. On the main floor of the building, she wandered down the wide marble concourse, looking at the darkened shop windows with unseeing eyes, her thoughts rambling. Samir had not spoken to her the entire evening. Important Muslim, be damned. I want him out of my life. She found a deserted cocktail lounge, and settled into a booth. A few minutes later, bourbon burned its way down her throat, reminding her how far she’d strayed from normalcy.
“May I join you?”
Samir’s soft voice rekindled her anger, but she didn’t look up from her drink. “Suit yourself.”
Who did this bastard think he was? Telling Mohammed of her financial situation was the ultimate insult.
Samir slid into the booth. “You are angry with me?”
Her head snapped up and she pinned him with a nasty glare. “You’re damned right I am! Why would you discuss my personal business with a stranger? Tell me that!”
Samir looked wounded. “Sheikh Mohammed is no stranger–we are cousins.”
Jess scooted out of the booth. “Whatever.”
When Jess returned to Easton later that morning, she noticed the empty parking spot next to the carriage house–an oddity, since Samir’s nephews seldom left the farm. What could they possibly find to interest them in the local area? For one second, she felt tempted to go to their room and have a look around, then groaned and shook her head. I’m starting to think like Faith.
She entered the barn, and a joyful nicker drifted from Casey’s stall. Jess slipped into the cozy cubicle, and laid her cheek against the mare’s warm neck, closing her eyes and feeling the weeks of tension fade.
“You always love me, no matter what.”
Five minutes later, she haltered the horse and led her into the aisle. As she moved through the familiar rote of grooming, she organized her thoughts. She’d get over to the bank first thing in the morning, to Frank’s after lunch, then finish up at Naomi’s. Once the money thing was handled, she could devote her energy and time to helping Faith crawl out of the pit.
She saddled Casey and swung up onto her back, then headed out the back door of the barn. Moving away from the practice ring, she guided the mare toward the woods, feeling strength and resilience flow back into her mind and body. All her troubles were over.
A twig snapped and Casey shied sideways, nearly unseating Jess. She pulled back on the reins gently, and patted the mare’s neck. Suddenly, she was looking at a man wearing Carhartt overalls and a brown camo hunting cap. She urged Casey forward.
“What are you doing here? This is private property.”
An easy smile brightened his face. “Sorry. My dog wandered away from my camp in the state forest. Guess I didn’t realize I’d gone so far.” He looked around, then squinted up at her. “You didn’t happen to see a black and tan German Shepherd, did you?”
Jess relaxed back in the saddle. “No, but I could call you if I see him.”
The man pulled off his cap, and smoothed his hair back. “Nah, he’ll come back. He’s probably out gettin’ laid.” He yanked the cap down over his forehead and turned away. “Sorry to have bothered ya.”
Jess watched him for a minute, then headed down the trail, her thoughts moving on to the fresh new future ahead.
When Jess returned from her ride, Hafez’s faded green van was parked by the barn door. The nephews climbed out and opened the vehicle doors just as Jess trotted Casey up to the barn.
“Been to town?”
Mustafa smiled politely, bobbing his head. Hafez gestured toward the vehicle.
“Yes, Miss Faith wanted some special grain. We had to travel to Stamford to collect it.”
Jess dismounted. “What special grain?” She walked to the back of the van and looked inside at four burlap sacks. “When did Faith give you this order?”
Hafez’s dark eyes didn’t blink. “Yesterday morning. You were not here.”
He pulled a rumpled slip of paper from his pocket and held it out. Faith’s scrawl rambled across the lined notebook paper–a makeshift purchase order that could have waited until the next day.
“Okay, go ahead and unload it.”
Irritation prickled her neck. Why was Faith in such a damned big hurry for that feed? After putting Casey back into her stall, Jess went to the office and pulled out the inventory sheets. She ran her finger down the list to the grain line. There should be four bags in the feed room–more than enough to get through the week. She made a mental note to ask Faith about it later.
“Hey, how was your sleep-over with Howard?”
Jess jerked at the slurred speech.
Faith’s eyes shone, her cheeks were pink, and dimples winked around her insinuating smile. “I didn’t expect to see you until tomorrow.”
Jess strode forward, causing Faith to step backward. The odor of alcohol swirled between them.
“Obviously. Do you think just because I’m not around, it’s okay to drink? If nobody knows, it doesn’t exist?”
A ruddy flush crept across Faith’s cheeks. “Oh, here we go again–Miss holier-than-thou! Can’t you just leave me alone?”
She turned away, but Jess grabbed her arm.
“No, I can’t! You’re jeopardizing everything I’ve worked so hard to acquire. I won’t let it happen!”
Faith’s delicate features mutated into an ugly sneer, and she snatched her arm away. “You’ve worked? At what? I’m the one who keeps this place going–or have you forgotten?”
Jess closed her eyes briefly. Why am I doing this? She’s sick.
“No, honey. . .I haven’t forgotten.” She touched Faith’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I’m really tired. . .Want to talk about it?”
Faith’s features relaxed and her eyes brimmed, but she shook her head. Jess took her hand and led her to a chair.
“Did something happen with Bill?”
Faith took a deep, shuddery breath and nodded her head. “I spent yesterday trying to drum up some money, but I couldn’t come up with enough to do us any good.” She looked away. “I’ve felt so great the past few days, I thought I could face him. Thought he might be willing to give me a loan, just for old time’s sake. . .maybe even reconsider our relationship.”
A deep sob convulsed her narrow shoulders, and Jess’s chest tightened. She could only imagine what had happened.
Faith took a deep breath. “I went to his new apartment, and there was–” Tears streamed down her cheeks and her voice cracked. “Oh, God, Jessie, a woman in a flimsy robe answered the door–he’s already found someone else!”
She leaned forward in the chair and buried her face in her hands, her shoulders heaving with gut-wrenching sobs. Jess didn’t know what to do–she couldn’t say everything would turn out okay–it wouldn’t. Should she have told Faith about the encounter with Bill at the casino? Would it have caused any less misery? Guilt and pity welled up in her throat as she watched her friend spiral into the depths of pain. It was no wonder the poor girl had turned to alcohol–her life had been a succession of losses, more than enough to turn the tide for someone with such a gentle nature.
Faith’s emotion subsided, and she lifted her glis
tening face. “Jessie, I’m so sorry. I need your help with this–I can’t do it alone.”
Jess reached out and stroked her arm. “I’m here. We’ll lick this together.”
Faith swiped at her tears, managing a tremulous smile.
Grinning, Jess dipped into her pocket. “Guess what? I have the money for Frank.”
Faith gasped and her eyes widened at the figures on the cashier’s check. “How? I mean–”
“Poker. I cleaned out a visiting dignitary last night.”
Chapter 24
Faith’s voice was thick with panic. “Jess, I need to talk to you, I’m on my way over.”
Jess glanced at the clock–she’d overslept.
“What’s the matter?”
“I don’t want to talk about it on the phone.”
Jess hung up and headed for the kitchen. Five minutes later, a wave of concern surged through her head.
Faith’s eyes glinted with fear. “Those men, the Arabs. . .” She took a deep breath and shuddered. “Jessie, they really scare me. Something’s not right about them.”
“Like what?”
Faith moved restlessly around the room while she talked. “They seem. . .sneaky, I don’t know. . .sinister. I haven’t been able to put my finger on it, but I feel really nervous around them.”
Jess relaxed. Faith’s attitude about foreigners apparently disturbed her more than she admitted.
Faith stopped pacing. “I was in the hayloft setting mousetraps this morning, and I heard Mustafa gabbling in that monkey talk of his, really excited and intense–you know, all stirred up. I peeked through a crack between the boards. He was out by the edge of the woods talking on a cellphone and waving his arms around. A minute later–so help me God–he threw the phone way out into the woods! Why would he do that?”
Jess shrugged. “Anger, maybe?”