Secrets That Kill: A Shelby Nichols Adventure

by Colleen Helme

“Better get ready,” he said. “Can I fix you something to eat first? It’s going to be a while before you get another chance.”

  “My stomach’s too nervous to eat much. Maybe just a piece of toast and some yogurt. But I can fix it.”

  “How about you get the yogurt and start eating, and I’ll put in the toast.”

  After gulping down my food, I hurried upstairs to put on my dress, first applying a liberal amount of deodorant so I wouldn’t sweat too much. Once I had the dress on, I touched up my make-up and hair. Last, I slipped on my shoes and checked myself in the full-length mirror. I looked good, but it didn’t help with the butterflies in my stomach. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this nervous.

  I came down the stairs and into the living room, finding Ramos and Nick glancing up from their seats admiring my outfit and the way my dress showed off my legs. Although Nick was hoping for a little more skin to distract Carson, he thought my dress suited me. Ramos was thinking I had just the right amount of class and respectability to play my part. He had no doubt that I would do well, and the expectation of getting even with Carson settled something inside of him, something that had been missing for a long time.

  “You look great,” Ramos said.

  “Thanks,” I answered. “So do you.” He wore his standard dark blazer and jeans, but looked more formal with a gray dress shirt that set off his dark eyes perfectly, making it easy to get lost in their depths.

  “Ready?” Ramos asked.

  I took a deep breath and nodded, then grabbed my purse, making sure everything I needed was inside. “Now I’m ready,” I said.

  We arrived at the club thirty minutes early. Nick dropped us off, leaving to deliver his envelopes. The club wasn’t crowded yet, but there were still a lot of people at the bar and tables. A dance floor fronted a stage at the opposite end and was set up for a live band that would be performing later. The rich mahogany wood bar and dance floor spoke volumes about how well the bar was doing and gave the impression of old money.

  A man sitting at the bar noticed our entrance and hurried over, shaking Ramos’ hand and ushering us into his office. Ramos introduced him to me as Max, the owner of the club, and three burly men whom Ramos had hired earlier quickly joined us in the room.

  “I don’t want Carson or his men to know you’re working for me,” Ramos explained. “Let them assume you work for Max, but keep an eye on them. If any of them leave, I want them followed. I want to know what they’re up to. If they even look like they’re going to pull their guns or come in shooting, take them out.”

  Ramos waited to see their nods before he continued. “Nick will be joining us later. Since I don’t know how many men Carson will bring, that’s up to you to find out and tell me during one of our breaks. One of you will be stationed inside the room with the poker game. Tell me immediately if you see anything suspicious.”

  “I’ll be coming in and out as well,” Max said. “I like to keep tabs on what’s happening in my establishment.”

  After a few more words, the guards left, and Max ushered us out of his office and down a long narrow hall toward the back of the building. He opened a door into a beautifully furnished room. It was a comfortable size, reminding me of a family recreation room, with one poker table set up in the middle. Dark wood paneling covered the lower half of the walls, and the upper half was done in gold and tan swirls, giving it a Mediterranean feel. A dark wood bar spanned the back wall with five bar stools set in front. Drop lighting shone on bottle-filled cabinets and illuminated the beautiful blue-toned tile work on the wall behind.

  A frosted glass chandelier hung from the ceiling directly over the table, sending warm light onto the surface. A leather couch and side tables with lamps were grouped along one wall, and two leather chairs with an oblong coffee table were grouped on the other. In one corner, with a potted ivy plant on top, sat an old-fashioned, black safe. Although there were no windows, the room was pleasantly lit, with paintings and plants strategically placed for maximum comfort.

  The round mahogany poker table had a pedestal-type base and would easily seat six. A ring of cup-holders and a carved chip well lined the wine-colored felt gaming surface and was surrounded by a padded, faux leather elbow rest. Several wooden and leather rolling chairs matched the table and set it off beautifully.

  Max introduced us to the man stationed at the bar, and the other man sitting at the table who was the card dealer for our game. “The bathroom is over this way,” Max said. He led me to a door beside the bar, thinking that from my pale face, I would probably need a place to escape more than once during the game.

  He was right about that. I peeked inside to find a large marble countertop and sink, with mirrored wooden cabinets matching the outside room. It was spacious and classy with all the comforts one could hope for. Yes, I could definitely spend some down time in here.

  Max’s phone chirped, and after checking the message, he excused himself. “Carson’s here. I’ll bring him back. Please make yourselves at home.”

  Sudden fear tightened my stomach, causing my head to spin. The lights around me dimmed, and my legs lost their strength.

  “Shelby?” Ramos caught me around the waist and pulled me against his side, walking me to the couch. We sat down together, and Ramos shoved my head toward my knees. “Take a deep breath,” he said. “Pull yourself together before Carson gets here.”

  His words sent a rush of adrenaline through me. I couldn’t let Carson see me like this! “Let me up! I’m fine now.” He released my head and I sat up, pushing my hair out of my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I relaxed against the cushion. “Sorry. I’m okay now.”

  Ramos studied me, his brows scrunched together, thinking that was close. He hadn’t expected that…not at all. “Just stay there. I’ll talk with Carson and keep him occupied until you feel better.”

  Just then, the door opened, and Ramos left my side. He greeted Carson and kept him talking near the door long enough for me to get my equilibrium back. Two men came in with Carson, one I didn’t know, and the other was the same guy who’d followed me the first day, identifying me to Carson the night before.

  Carson spotted me sitting on the couch. He was thinking I looked a little pale, and a small smile curved his lips. It was the impetus I needed to snap me out of it. What was wrong with me? I could do this, and more important, I couldn’t let Ramos down. He was counting on me. Forget the money. Forget Carson. Do it for Ramos.

  Almost like he’d heard my thoughts, Ramos glanced at me, worry tightening his eyes. I caught his gaze and smiled reassuringly, giving him a slight nod to let him know I could do this. The tension left him, and he nodded back, relieved. He was thinking that he’d forgotten to tell me that I could read his mind for help with the game if I needed to, since he had no doubt he’d be thinking what I should do.

  I smiled at that, and stood as Carson approached. “Shelby,” he said. “You’re looking splendid.” He took my hand and smiled, thinking the night might not be too boring since he’d have me to look at.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I’m looking forward to our game, although I’ve heard some things about you that make me nervous.”

  “Me?” He feigned surprise. “Like what?”

  “Oh, just that you’re really good,” I said. “But I hope to give you a run for your money.” He smiled, but didn’t say, “yeah, right,” like he was thinking. Defensive anger swept over me, and suddenly, I couldn’t wait to wipe that stupid smile off his face.

  Ramos came to my side and cleared his throat, successfully pulling my attention away from my murderous thoughts. Max placed a silver suitcase on the table, flicking it open and lifting the lid. Seeing all those stacks of bills totaling a million dollars sent shivers up my spine.

  Max glanced through it, totaling it up in his head. “One million dollars,” he said. “Agreed?” he glanced at Ramos, then Carson, who both nodded their heads. “According to house rules, it will be placed in the safe until after the game is concluded.”
He clicked the lid closed and carried it over to the safe in the corner. Spinning the dial to the correct numbers, he popped the door open and placed the case inside.

  “You may state the terms of your bet,” he said, coming back to the table. “And the game will begin.”

  “Five hundred thousand per person to begin, winner takes all, game ends at midnight,” Carson said.

  “Agreed,” Ramos said. “The opening big blinds start at one thousand to be doubled every hour to facilitate a clear winner by our midnight agreement.”

  “I agree,” Carson said. “I would like a five to ten minute break at the end of each hour.”

  “Agreed,” Ramos said. He stared at Carson who stared back like it was a staring contest or something. They were both thinking how great it was going to be to beat the other, and I had to work hard to keep from rolling my eyes.

  “Anything else?” Max asked. No one spoke, so he continued. “Take your places, and begin your game.”

  I was kind of bummed that he didn’t say “let the games begin,” and then end with “may the odds be ever in your favor,” but that was probably asking too much. Besides, I might have burst out laughing, and that would never do.

  Ramos pulled out my chair, and I dutifully sat while he stood directly behind me. The dealer put a stack of chips in front of me and I watched Carson put them in his chip well and did what he did. The bartender came by, asking me what I would like to drink. I grabbed a bottle of water from my purse and handed it to him. “Could you put that in a glass with some ice?” I asked.

  “Um…sure,” he said. He smiled, but in his thoughts he was offended that I’d brought my own drink. Didn’t I know this was a first-rate joint? He had plenty of vitamin water. All I had to do was ask.

  Oops. Oh well, nothing to do about looking like a novice now. At least Carson was getting a kick out of it, thinking his suspicions were right that I’d never played professionally before. It made him happy and eager to show me up, and stick it to Manetto at the same time.

  It made me mad, but also determined that he’d be singing a different tune when I got done with him.

  The dealer began shuffling the deck, and I took the moment to quickly grab my cheat sheet and place it on the table. “Do you mind if I keep this out?” I asked Carson. “It’s a list of the poker hands, you know, one pair…two pair. I just want to make sure I don’t mess up.”

  “Um…that’s fine.” Carson smiled politely, but he was thinking that he could hardly believe it. Was I for real? Anyone else would have had that memorized. Wow, this was going to be a lot easier than he thought. He didn’t think he’d have to put his other plans into action if it was going to be this easy.

  Other plans? He had other plans? Uh-oh. Now I had to make sure I figured out what they were before the night was over.

  “Ready?” the dealer asked.

  I nodded, then glanced at Carson, and my eyes widened in surprise. Carson had put these little round dark glasses on. It made him look like a fat John Lennon. I coughed to hide the choke of laughter that bubbled up, and cleared my throat.

  The dealer had already dealt the first two cards so I quickly glanced at them. A queen and a ten…that’s good. Carson had an ace and a jack. Yikes! He had the big blind and me the small, so I folded instead of calling.

  Ramos was thinking a queen and ten were good, what was I doing? I wanted to look at him over my shoulder and roll my eyes or something. He should know that Carson’s cards were better. Maybe listening to him wasn’t such a good idea.

  The next three rounds came and went with me folding every one because Carson’s cards were still better. When was I going to get a good hand? At least Ramos had seen my puny cards and understood, but having him watch over my shoulder was not as helpful as I’d thought.

  Carson was wondering if I knew how to play at all and thinking I should at least go one round without folding. How could I observe his playing style if I didn’t do that? The first rounds were the best for observing your opponent when the blinds weren’t so big. I wouldn’t have that luxury later. The game of poker was a lot more than winning and losing. It was finding the subtle tells and nuances in your opponent. Deciding from their body language if they had better cards than you. Gaining that experience only came by actually playing the game. Did I even know I could go further than the first round?

  I let out my breath slowly and settled back in my chair. He didn’t think I could play, huh? Well, I’d show him. The next round my cards were high, and I called, going for the flop. I had an ace and a queen, and the flop showed a queen, a five, and a seven, giving me a pair of queens. Carson had a jack and a seven. With the flop, that gave him a pair of sevens, which wasn’t very high, but he was so excited that I’d actually bet that he put in two thousand dollar chips.

  I called, and the dealer flipped the next card. It was a ten of hearts, which didn’t help either of us. Carson threw in another two thousand, expecting me to fold, but I called instead. The dealer flipped the next card, or river, and it was another ten.

  Carson stared at me, trying to gauge if I actually had something. Since I hadn’t bet before, he figured I did, but did I have a queen, five, or ten? On a whim, he decided to place another bet, only this time it was ten thousand. If I were playing as cautiously as it looked, I’d fold over that much money, whether I had the queen or not, thinking he might have another ten.

  I pursed my lips, trying to make it look like I wasn’t sure what to do. Since I had this in the bag, I decided to call and raise him, but I couldn’t make it too high or he wouldn’t take the bait. I threw in ten thousand, and then raised him five more. “Call and raise,” I said.

  I tried to keep my expression neutral. Carson thought I probably had a pair of queens or another ten, but just in case I was bluffing, it was worth it to find out, so he called me.

  I flipped over my cards, showing him my queen, and there was absolutely no expression on his face. It was like he was made of stone. I made a show of looking at his cards and gave a surprised smile that I’d won the round. He was thinking I’d been lucky this time, but it wouldn’t last. I wouldn’t always have better cards than him.

  The next few rounds went about the same. I folded twice, then won the next two, and at the end of the hour, my stack was slightly larger than his. It was a relief when the dealer called for a break. The concentration it took to play was intense, but almost worse was not showing any emotion. Holding back my smile was killing me, and I worried that I could keep this up for five or six more hours.

  Carson said he needed some fresh air. He left the room with his two goons trailing behind. Ramos nodded at the security guard stationed at the door, and he followed them at a discreet distance. The dealer left as well, leaving the room empty except for the bartender and us.

  I stood and stretched, grateful to move my arms and legs.

  Ramos came to my side. “You’re doing real well,” he said, his voice low so that only I could hear him. “In fact you’re doing so well, you probably don’t need me looking over your shoulder all the time.”

  “Thanks,” I replied. “Honestly, it bothered me at first, but after a few hands, I didn’t even notice. But feel free to tell me stuff like you did that one time about the possibility of a flush. I almost missed that.”

  “Sure.”

  “Oh, and I picked up something from Carson,” I whispered. “He has something planned in case he loses, but I don’t know what it is yet. I guess he’s waiting to see how things go first.”

  “Good to know,” Ramos said. “Maybe I’d better check with our guys and see if they noticed anything. Will you be all right here?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got to visit the restroom, so go ahead.”

  The bathroom was a nice sanctuary, and I took my time, even making faces in the mirror to get it out of my system, and doing some leg stretches. When I came out, everyone had returned, and it looked like I’d kept them all waiting. Oops, I hoped I hadn’t broken a cardinal rule or something. As I
passed the bar, the bartender asked if I wanted more water, and I told him to keep it coming. He smiled, thinking I was okay after all, and hoped I’d win all that money. It was easy to smile at him after that.

  Max came in to check on us, and after finding everything satisfactory, he quickly left. As we settled down to play this hour, I wasn’t so nervous, and after a few hands, I felt like I was starting to find a rhythm to the game. I was winning more, and my stack was showing it.

  By the end of the hour, Carson was getting frustrated. He couldn’t understand how every time he had good cards I folded. It wasn’t so bad when we got as far as the turn or the river, because he still won a little, but he was losing more often. Something wasn’t right.

  At the break, he left without saying a word to anyone, and I got worried that maybe I was playing a little too well. Was he going to do something rash? I still hadn’t heard anything more about the plan he had in place, and it bothered me.

  “What’s wrong,” Ramos asked.

  I sighed and pushed back my chair to stand up. “Can we go outside and get some air?”

  “Sure.” Ramos guided me down the hall, opening the door to a blast of music from the band. “The walls are soundproof,” he said loudly, noticing my surprise. He walked me through the crowd to the door, pushing it open to the sultry evening air. The sun was low on the horizon, and things were starting to cool off.

  “Where’s Carson?” I asked.

  “He’s back inside, listening to the band.”

  “Oh,” I nodded. “I’m a little concerned about him. He’s getting frustrated. Am I playing too well? Do you think I should lose a few hands?”

  “Hell no,” Ramos growled. “Don’t change a thing. I’m enjoying this.”

  “Did you find out how many men he brought and what they’re doing?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got it covered,” Ramos replied. “And Nick should be here soon, so don’t worry about that. Just keep doing what you’re doing. It’s working great.”

  “Okay,” I said, relieved. “I actually think I’m getting the hang of it. He keeps staring at me, but I hardly notice anymore. I have to say the hardest part is keeping a straight face, especially when I know I’m going to win.”