High Stakes: A Texas Heat Romance

by Camilla Stevens

  “That fucker still expects us to pay after what he did to Chip?” Chance interrupted.

  “A debt is a debt, my boy. And from what I heard it was self-defense.”

  Chance gave Jacob a hard look, telling him they both knew there was a fine layer of bullshit over that truth. A gun against Chip’s fists was no fair fight.

  Jacob shrugged, then gave Chance a considering look. “You’re intent on doing something about this, yes?”

  “I am.”

  “I might have a solution for you.”

  Chance waited, keeping a straight face even though his heart was beating faster now.

  “A poker game.”

  “Poker?”

  “Peter and Leo.”

  “They’re playing a game with one another?” Chance couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice.

  “No one wants a war, Chance.”

  “You mean now that Leo fucked up, trying to use Chip against Peter, he wants a truce,” Chance corrected. The look on Jacob’s face answered that. “And Peter doesn’t have much power down here yet, so it makes sense to play nice. But why poker?”

  “They both play, it seemed like the best solution.”

  “Winner gets the whole territory?” Chance asked incredulously.

  Jacob just laughed. “Neither of them is that crazy. No, but Leo will give up a portion of it if he loses. Peter loses, he goes back to New York, with one caveat.”

  “What’s that caveat,” Chance asked, feeling that bowling ball in the pit of his stomach prepare to drop.

  Jacob gave him a sympathetic look. “The McCoys are out, as far as playing poker in Houston. In fact, I should tell you, he’s slowly making his way along the southeast closing off all avenues for you, my friend.”

  Chance fell back in his chair. He’d seen grudges before, but this was going too far.

  “Don’t give up hope quite yet,” Jacob gave him a cunning look. “I may be able to get you into that game.”

  Chance blinked in surprise. “Why on earth would they agree to that?”

  “Think about it,” Jacob said, leaning in. “You have every reason to hold a serious grudge against both of them. Leo almost killed Chip. Peter most certainly did have your father killed.”

  “And what? They think I’m going to come after them?” Chance actually laughed at the idea. As much as he wanted both of them dead, the idea was suicide. No one from the outside could touch them.

  “Not you,” Jacob said meaningfully.

  Chance gave him a direct look. “The Vasilievs.”

  Jacob pressed his lips together in agreement and fell back. “Viktor is not allowed to talk to his daughter, nor she to him. But that doesn’t stop you from getting in touch. You are her son after all, and Katherine has always been a daddy’s girl.”

  Chance kept his face perfectly neutral in response to that, knowing that Jacob was feeling him out for any bit of information he could use. In his position, information was its own currency, much better than money. If one of the McCoys was even hinting at running to the Vasilievs to intervene, having that knowledge would be like winning the lottery.

  “Besides their deal, how much is the buy in?”

  “A million dollars.”

  Now Chance laughed out loud. “You do realize that I’m not even done paying off one-fifth of that?”

  Jacob just nodded his head in agreement. Then he gave Chance a considering look. “Your mother has the house…?”

  “Forget it.”

  “She has almost as much reason for you to be in this game. There are plenty of people who would be more than happy to give her a quick loan with the house as collateral. Myself for example. Or perhaps Leo or Peter could offer you a loan?”

  All of those ideas were their own versions of Fuck No. Chance would worry about raising the money later on.

  “What do I have to do to get into this game?”

  Jacob gave him a cunning grin. “That depends on what your terms are.”

  When Chance got back to his mother’s house he sat her and Juliet down and told them everything, holding nothing back.

  His focus was all on Juliet, watching her reaction. She fell back in her chair in a daze, her eyes rolling up to the ceiling as though trying to process everything. He could sympathize. Frankly, Chance was feeling completely out of his depth himself. All he wanted was his old simple life of playing poker, blowing all the winnings, and going back to the tables to play again. That life was gone now, perhaps forever. Even when this debt was paid, how could he go on playing the tables under Leo’s domain, knowing what he’d done to Chip? Or worse, if Peter won, knowing what he’d done to his dad?

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “I’m playing the game.” He looked to his mother to assess her reaction: lips pressed firmly together grimly; brow wrinkled with worry; arms crossed over her chest protectively.

  But those eyes told him everything. She knew what was at stake. This was something he had to do.

  “Are you sure about this Chance?” Juliet said pulling herself forward. He didn’t need to read her to sense her legitimate fear. “What if…?”

  She let it hang, but Chance knew what the rest of that sentence was. “That’s not going to happen.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  He leaned in and brought both her hands into his much larger ones. “They’re not going to kill me because right now they think we’re just the pawns in their game.” Chance turned to each woman and gave them a hard look. “So we have to figure out how to become the players.”

  24

  Hours later they had finished off the bottle as well as a pizza they’d ordered.

  “So, I’ll call Jacob in the morning and set up a meeting to hash out my participation in the game.”

  The other two women at the table nodded.

  “Tonight, I think I need to find a way to forget about all this for a while.” Chance looked at Juliet with a weary smile.

  “I think taking our minds off this is a good idea,” she said with a smile of her own. The bourbon buzz was already helping her body warm up to that unspoken idea.

  “Go, you two. Do what you need to.” Katherine said then turned to Juliet. “You just make sure you get it all out of him. He needs his head in the game when the time comes.”

  Juliet laughed, the bourbon erasing her embarrassment. It felt good to finally laugh. It helped her body release all the pent up tension and the worry that clouded her brain.

  Everything about today had been crazy, ending with the last few hours. The plan that the three of them had hatched out could very likely end in Chance getting killed.

  And Juliet right along with him.

  Let it go, girl.

  There was little that she could do now, except spend the last moments they had together enjoying one another.

  Chance stood up and offered his hand. “Let’s see where this night takes us.”

  Juliet pushed her concerns to the back of her mind as she took his hand.

  The bourbon definitely helped.

  Watching Chance pull off that t-shirt to expose his rock hard chest, didn’t just push her fears to the back of her mind, it totally obliterated them.

  They were back at his apartment, where he insisted she stay with him. They had practically rushed, hand in hand to his bedroom, and entangled themselves in one another. Maybe the fact that this could very well be their last time together was what made it so heated and intense.

  Juliet practically ripped the zipper down the side of her dress and tore it off. She quickly unhooked her bra and snapped it off her arms, following it with her underwear until she was completely naked.

  Chance was working just as furiously on his jeans while stepping out of his shoes at the same time. He shoved them down his legs and did a little jig to step out of them before rushing back toward her.

  They didn’t bother with a condom, having already discussed STDs (none) and birth control (pills for her). That was good. Juliet wanted to
feel all of him inside of her, completely without barriers.

  She pushed him toward the bed and straddled him. Chance was already rock hard and she lifted herself onto her knees then reached down to guide him into her.

  “Oh, God Chance,” she moaned as his girth slowly filled her while she sank down onto him. She fell down onto him and arched her back so that her chest pressed into his.

  Chance brought his arms around her back to pull her in even tighter. He hurried his face into her neck and practically devoured her, inhaling her scent and tasting her skin. It sent shivers through her body that were met with the waves of pleasure being released from the other part of him that was servicing her.

  “God, you’re amazing,” he said as he jerked his hips up to penetrate her over and over.

  Juliet grabbed his shoulders and held tight stroking her body on top of him, feeling the fill and release of his dick as they fucked each other crazy.

  Her nipples were hard as rocks as they grazed the hair on his chest, the friction becoming almost painful. His hands on her back and ass felt like fire, raising her body temperature until she began to feel the sweat hit her skin.

  Her moans became screams as the swell of her orgasm hit her. It broke free, crashing inside of her with wave after wave of volcanic, shuddering orgasms.

  Chance followed, his fingers gripping her hips hard. Juliet looked into his eyes, which were that stormy color, getting darker and darker as his own orgasm built up inside of him. She worked her body to help him along.

  Chance closed his eyes brought her body down hard, impaling her one final time on his shaft as he released his seed inside of her. The groan that escaped his lips was deafening.

  Juliet brought her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly to her. She felt his embrace squeeze her even harder.

  They stayed like that, each of them cementing the feel to memory, knowing that the next few days would try this relationship like nothing either of them was prepared for.

  The next morning, they were on a plane to New York City. Feeling reckless, they had splurged on first class tickets.

  Chance considered it a good omen. Arrive on the tails of good fortune, leave with good fortune.

  Juliet considered it something to keep Chance in good form. The last thing he needed was the discomfort of stuffing those long legs into a coach seat. He had let her have the window seat, and right now she stared out of it, every possible scenario of what they were embarking upon going through her head.

  “Stop it.”

  She turned at the sound of his voice. She inhaled, a protest forming on the tip of her tongue.

  Chance brought his hand up to her face, his thumb stroking her bottom lip. “The only thing I want coming from those lips right now is a smile or a kiss.”

  She exhaled a relaxed laugh, but pulled away. “Chance, I’m not trying to worry you, I’m not, it’s just…I can’t stop thinking of all the ways…” she shook her head, unable to finish.

  “Here’s what I want you to do, Juliet. For the next forty-eight hours I want you to not just believe, but know for a fact this plan will work. I’m not saying that as some sort of omen or think positively bullshit; I’m saying that because I’ve got you in my corner. You, with that amazing head of yours that has worked this thing backwards and forwards and found every possible failing eliminating them until it’s a one hundred percent guaranteed result.”

  Juliet acquiesced, feeling her smile come out big and bright and completely uncompromised. Something in the way he said things, so self-confident and assured, always made her believe it could happen, despite piles of evidence working against both of them. Then she reached a hand up to cup his face. “That was my smile, now here’s my kiss.”

  25

  Chance would have preferred a taxi but Juliet had never ridden the subway before. They had dropped their overnight bags at the hotel and were now on the Q train down to Coney Island.

  He wondered what it would feel like, experiencing this ride again. The first and only time he had ever taken this particular field trip had been the happiest day of his life. This time, his father was dead, his brother was in the hospital, his girlfriend was under threat, and a million dollars that could make or break him was on the line.

  It was a weekday, but still the middle of summer and late enough in the day for the nighttime fun to just get started. The ride down was far less sketchy these days, the city having cleaned up its lingering graffiti-covered, sex-and-violence themed, grit-and-dirt covered veneer that he remembered from his youth.

  That didn’t take away from the novelty of it all. The subway car was a crazy mix of Manhattan commuters who were getting off early from work and teenagers already revving themselves up for a bit of trouble, complete with the occasional oddball thrown in. Looking at Juliet’s excitement at this new experience made it even more enjoyable. Unlike everyone else in the car, she had been enthralled with the “It’s Showtime!” litefeet performers, swirling around on the poles. She even went so far as to give them money, earning a roll of the eye from the man across from her, which was stopped cold by the look Chance gave him.

  As he watched her clap in appreciation, Chance’s tension faded. On the plane he’d acted one hundred percent confident mostly for her sake. The doubt was starting to creep in.

  Chance had lived his life with one toe dipped into the world of organized crime. Now he was headed straight to the epicenter of it all, never mind the fact that it was his own damn grandfather. He hadn’t even been sure of what to wear. In the end, he’d erred on the side of “nice” with a pair of black slacks, a white button-up shirt, and black boots. After all, it wasn’t every day that one met their grandfather for the first time, even if they were well into their thirties when it happened.

  Juliet was pretty as a picture as always. She wore a bright blue sleeveless dress with a ruffle around the shoulders. Her hair was down, parted on the left, with the right side tucked behind her ear, placed there in one of her nervous tics. It was matched with gold wedge sandals that showed off the red nails he’d painted only last week. That perfect day seemed like a million years ago.

  “I’ve always wanted to come to New York,” Juliet sighed, snuggling in to his side on the long blue seat, which was another new feature that was different from his subway memories. He could see the smile begin to disappear from her face as she realized the reason for them being there.

  “We’ll have to stop and get a bona fide Coney Island hot dog before we get started,” he said in an attempt to bring that smile back around.

  She laughed and squeezed his arm tighter. Her face softened as she stared off, thinking about something. “You’re the most thrilling man I’ve ever been with Chance.”

  He read her expression to find out if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  Her eyes rolled up to his and half her mouth went up in a smile. “How many women can say a man flew them all the way out to Coney Island for their third date?”

  Definitely a good thing. “You, sweetheart, are completely worth it.”

  She laughed again and he felt like anything was possible. That was good since he needed all the positive energy he could get.

  Today was the very definition of a long shot.

  The place was called Katya.

  It was a smallish intimate restaurant with an overly quaint interior. Chance felt like he was walking into a tea room rather than the well-known hang out for one of Brighton Beach’s most notorious Russians.

  Lamps with frilly shades sat on every table. The chairs were formal, each upholstered with a mishmash of needlepoint, brocade, or simple white cotton. The tableware was a similar mix of fancy place settings, none of which matched. Along the walls were Russian knickknacks from the pre-soviet days of the Motherland.

  “Are you sure this is the right place?” Juliet asked looking around in confusion.

  The two, young men in suits with deceptively lazy expressions on their faces who came up to greet them answered the ques
tion for her.

  They looked Juliet over with brief disinterest, saving their focus for Chance McCoy, the grandson of Viktor Vasiliev. If they had been anything other than Russian, the palpable fascination would have been painted all over their faces. Still, Chance was able to sense the particular fascination they had with him: the gazes that lingered just a bit too long; the indifference that became just a bit too exaggerated, shielding their curiosity; the shoulders that lost their professional squareness as their minds focused on this interesting little tidbit in the Russian scene.

  “Come,” Goon #1 said to Chance.

  Juliet was still attached to his arm as he walked.

  “She stay here,” the man said before they had taken two steps.

  “She comes with me.”

  He gave Chance a look that was a mixture of confusion and disdain. There were two kinds of women in their world: those that were players and those that were trophies. Juliet was most certainly not a player, thus had no business occupying a seat at the table. All the same, Chance wasn’t about to let her out of his sight.

  Juliet had other ideas.

  “I’ll be fine, Chance,” she said, disengaging her arm from his and patting him on the shoulder. “Do what you need to do. I’ll be over there at the bar.”

  Chance looked at her, ready to put up a fight, but she met him with that disarming smile of hers that she had to know by now would make his defenses melt.

  She leaned in to his ear. “Like I said, I’m no wilting violet. I think I can handle myself in this place,” she whispered.

  Chance realized she was right. He had to stop treating her with kid gloves and start focusing on the bottom line. After all, she had skin in the game as well. She sealed the deal by reaching up to bring his head down to her, silencing any protests with a kiss.