Amy giggled. "Okay, maybe you're right. Maybe I just saw being with Patrick as better than being alone. It's hard, Mallory, and it's scary to wonder if that perfect man for me is out there."
An image of Jake flashed across Mallory's mind. "There is no such thing as the perfect man. There's only the temporary fantasy."
***
Jake took his place at the table and tried to keep himself from looking at Mallory as she walked into the casino. His restraint lasted about a second and a half. Maybe less. She was wearing the black miniskirt again today, this time with a gold top in some shiny fabric that crisscrossed in the front, diving down between her incredible cleavage. Her legs that were bare yesterday were encased in black fishnet hose, and he found himself desperately wanting to see that line up the back.
He heard a wolf whistle off to his left and glanced over to find Brad grinning. God help him. Shaking himself into some semblance of normal, he focused on shuffling the cards. Unfortunately, a motion that he'd done thousands of times gave his mind plenty of wandering time, and it was all he could do to keep from wondering whether Mallory skimped on her underwear as she did on her bras.
"Good morning, gentleman," he said, forcing himself to focus on the players-on the job. "I don't suppose any of you are ready to play some cards?"
He received a couple of chuckles and a "Praise God" from Father Thomas. Only Silas Hebert remained silent as he studied Jake with an intensity that was a bit unnerving. Yesterday, Silas had been watching for the fix, studying Jake's hands, the motions he made concerning the cards, but he'd never focused on Jake himself. It couldn't be good if he were doing it now.
Was there some way his carefully constructed cover could be blown?
Surely not. If Silas thought for a moment that Jake was FBI, wouldn't he have merely left the tournament and not returned? Fifty thousand was a drop in the bucket to a man like Silas. It was hardly enough of a reason to risk arrest, especially on the eve of his "retirement."
Jake shuffled the last section of the cards and placed them into the shoe. Giving the men a nod, he began to deal, all the while aware that Silas's eyes were on him.
An hour and a half later, Jake was more worried than ever before. Sure the play had gone as expected-given his very thorough and incredibly satisfying kissing of Mallory that morning, he hadn't won a single hand and hadn't even had a hand worth trying on. The rest of the players, running short on a touch from Mallory, had leveled out a bit in playing ability, but Silas was the superior player in the group.
Silas's wins weren't the cause of Jake's worry. Despite his concentration on play, Silas spent a good portion of the morning studying Jake. But then Silas had shifted his attention to Mallory, which made Jake even more anxious for the midmorning break and an opportunity to check in with his captain. If Silas were already checking his cover, Jake wanted to make doubly sure his story would hold.
Jake collected the cards as the men filed away from the table, Mallory trailing behind them. As soon as they exited the casino, he stepped out on the balcony directly behind his table and pressed the captain's number into his cell phone. The phone had barely begun to ring before his captain answered.
"Randoll. What the hell are you doing calling in the middle of the morning? Is something wrong?"
"I'm not sure."
"What do you mean, you're not sure? Either something's wrong or it's not."
"Fine, then I think something's wrong and I need you to verify it for me. I got this weird feeling off Silas this morning like he was studying me. It made me wonder if he's doing a check. I need you to see if someone's calling my covers.
"It's a little early for him to already be suspicious, isn't it?"
"For most people, I'd say you're right, but Silas seems to take paranoia to a whole new level. Then again, I guess that's why he's still in business."
"You're probably right. Our team finished the sweep of those warehouses early this morning. They're clean as a whistle-too clean, if you get my meaning."
"Damn. We're always two steps behind."
"Yeah, well, I'm hoping you're going to change all of that. I'll check your cover stories, see who's gotten a feeler. Check in on your lunch break. I should know something by then."
"Will do," Jake replied, and flipped his phone shut, wondering if his cover had held and figuring if it hadn't, he wouldn't even need to check in with his captain. He'd probably know it if his table was one player short after break, but as he entered the casino and looked across the room, one part of his fears was put to rest. Silas Hebert was already back from break and sitting at the table, waiting for the play to begin and seeming not to have a care in the world.
And maybe he didn't.
***
The lunch break couldn't have come a moment too soon for Mallory. The play had seemed to drag, every single second. On the plus side, the kiss had apparently worked and Jake hadn't drawn a winning hand all morning. He was playing ultra-conservatively, so he hadn't really lost much more than the ante on each round, and the other players, devoid of her touch for the morning, had each managed a hand or two off Silas, who'd easily won all the rest. She guessed, in the big scheme of things, their plan had been a success, even though it looked like the beginnings of a disaster.
She placed the used glasses on the tray for pickup and headed across the casino toward the restaurant. Jake had rushed from the table with the players without so much as a backward glance at her, and for a moment she had been disappointed. Then that moment had passed when she remembered Jake couldn't do anything to draw attention to them.
She was just about to push open the door to the restaurant when her cell vibrated. She pulled it from the clip on her skirt and checked the number. It wasn't one she recognized. Figuring it was probably an accident and the caller would realize it when the message played, she stuck the phone back in the holder and reached for the handle on the door.
Her phone began to vibrate again.
She frowned and pulled the phone from the holder again, checking the number only to find it was the same one as before. Deciding two in a row merited an answer, she flipped open the phone and pressed the "talk" button. "Hello."
"Mallory?" A familiar voice sounded in the phone but she couldn't quite place it.
"Yes?"
"Mallory, it's Jake."
She hurried away from the door, not wanting to risk being overheard. "Why are you calling me? Is something wrong?"
"Maybe. Did you notice anything strange about Silas this morning?"
Mallory thought back, trying to remember anything at all about Silas that stood out. "Not really. Why?"
"He suspects something is up. He was studying me this morning, me personally, not the way I was dealing or playing. Then he shifted after an hour or so and studied you."
Mallory felt her heart beat a bit faster. "I didn't even notice. How could I not notice?"
"He wasn't obvious. Successful criminals have perfected the art of subtlety. Probably no one but law enforcement would have noticed-and they would have to have been looking for it."
Mallory nodded, even though she knew he couldn't see, trying to reassure herself more than anything else. "Okay. So what do you think he's up to?"
"I made a call to my office on the morning break and asked them to do some checking for me. I just got off the phone with them. Silas is having an intense background check performed on me. One of his men has called all my plants to confirm my background. So far, my cover isn't broken, but we aren't sure how much longer it will hold."
"Holy shit!" Mallory sank into a chair and considered the seriousness of Jake's words. "What if he finds out? He'll leave and you won't get to bust him. Is he checking on me? I'm a local, and everyone knows I'm not a cop."
"I don't think Silas is thinking along the lines of law enforcement - at least not yet. I think he suspects me of fixing the tournament and he's wondering if you're in on it with me. He's probably trying to find the link between us. As to whether or not he'
s checking on you-I'd say probably. But since you don't have an FBI cover in place, we'll have no way of knowing if he is or what information he gains."
Mallory blew out a breath. "Okay. So he won't find anything that connects the two of us because there wasn't anything until now. But if he keeps digging, he might find out about you, or about me being a cooler. So what do we do?"
"We're going to have to move up the plan a bit. I know I wanted to extend play for as long as possible to make Silas comfortable, but the longer we play, the longer we run the risk of my cover being blown. My bad luck should be worn off by the time afternoon play starts. I need you to make sure Silas loses."
"And if he loses too fast and quits?"
"It's a risk I have to take. There are no other options."
"Then I'll get on it after lunch."
"Great. Thanks."
She heard a click when Jake disconnected and flipped her cell phone shut to check the display. Sure enough, it started blinking, then blacked out altogether. "It never fails," she mumbled, and stuck the phone back in her holder. She had an extra battery in her gym bag. Heck, she had five extra batteries in her gym bag and more in her truck. Watches weren't the only electronic device Mallory was hell on.
She scanned the casino and realized she was all alone. Sinking into a chair, she tried to decide what move to make next. After Jake's revelation last night on Silas and the money laundering, she'd wanted to run straight to her uncle and start asking questions about her father. But if she did that, Reginald would definitely wonder why.
The last thing Mallory wanted to do was to blow Jake's cover, and unfortunately she had to agree with him on her uncle's lack of trustworthiness. Besides, there wasn't a damned thing she could do about the situation, even if her suspicions were correct. And ultimately, the truth couldn't make a difference to anyone but her. Which meant that dragging the truth out of Reginald would just have to wait until the tournament was over.
She rose from the chair and headed toward the dining area. Might as well have some lunch. She wanted to check on Amy, see how she was holding up post-Patrick, and maybe a miracle had happened and Scooter had actually gotten some information on Reginald.
Her friends were at the same table they had occupied the day before, and Mallory was pleased to note the vacant tables surrounding them. She headed across the room toward her friends with a smile. "I see we've got the best table in the house again," she said as she took a seat.
"Yeah," Amy agreed. "I think everyone crowds around the kitchen hoping for faster service. The last thing I want is anyone rushing around you with dishes." She grinned, and although Mallory could tell her friend was still not back to normal, the edge was fast wearing off Patrick. Give her another day or two and Amy would probably adopt a cat and swear off men-at least until one with a high IQ and long pants came along.
"How's the tournament going?"
Amy gave her an enthusiastic nod. "Great. Since I blew the idiot out yesterday, the level of play has gotten better and more intense. It's just the challenge I was looking for to document my theory because the players are all well above average and my theory is still holding against them. I'm winning eighty percent of the hands played."
"Impressive. But then I'm not the least bit surprised. You sure you want to be Alan Greenspan, Jr.? We could arrange a helluva career for you as a hustler. Well, as soon as we worked out a disguise that made you look old enough to actually be in a casino."
Amy laughed. "While I have to admit the challenge is a lot of fun-and I'd probably make a bunch more money-I kind of envisioned my future wearing a lot more clothes and inhaling a lot less cigarette smoke."
Mallory laughed and turned to Scooter. "What about you, Scooter? You find out anything interesting on Reginald? I haven't seen the old dog all day. He must be up to something."
"'The game is afoot,"' Scooter said in his version of a British accent. "He's been a weird one today. First he had me reposition a camera on table three where he could watch all the players from behind the dealer, you know, kinda looking over his shoulder.
"So I'm rewiring the rest of the monitors to make room for the new camera angle and all of a sudden Reginald starts cussing and picks up the phone, demanding to speak to the dealer on table three. Then a couple minutes go by and Reginald starts yelling in the phone about twitches and blinks and coughing. I thought maybe someone was sick, but when I checked the cameras, everything seemed normal."
Mallory looked over at Amy and knew her friend had caught on to what Reginald was doing. "No one was sick, Scooter. A player at table three must be giving away his hand by those actions - you know, coughing every time he has a bad hand, blinking if he has a good one - something like that. Apparently, the dealer's not catching it and using it to his advantage."
Scooter scrunched up his brow. "But isn't Reginald telling the dealer stuff sorta like cheating?"
Mallory shrugged. "At this point, I don't really care if Reginald's got a camera in the player's front pocket and is watching his hand live. Was there anything else?"
"Yeah, before lunch. Reginald came down to the restaurant as one of the attendants was bringing drinks out to table five. He sent the attendant back into the kitchen for something and I swear as soon as the girl turned around, Reginald poured something in a couple of the drinks."
Mallory stared at Scooter, feeling somewhat alarmed. "You're positive about that?"
"I saw him clear as day."
Amy looked across the table at Mallory, her eyes wide. "You don't think Reginald would poison anyone, do you?"
Mallory paused for a second before answering because, well, she couldn't really say "no" with conviction. "Oh man, if all this wasn't so weird I'd say no outright, but now ... I just don't know. I mean, I don't think he'd kill anyone, but I guess he's not above making them pretty sick."
Amy narrowed her eyes and nodded. "You mean, like making them sick enough to affect their concentration."
"Or leave the tournament altogether." Mallory put her hands up in the air. "It's the only thing that would make sense." She looked back at Scooter, who she could tell was trying to follow the conversation but had probably been left off about three sentences before. "Anything else?"
Scooter shrugged. "Not unless you want to know about the box of guns he's got hidden in the storeroom."
***
Mallory served the afternoon drinks carefully, spending extra time and care with each of the players. She didn't want to single Silas out for attention. That would be far too obvious, but if she appeared to be in a feel-good, touchy mood with everyone, maybe it would pass for that perky-girl attitude that every woman but her seemed to be able to pull off.
The other men barely noticed her extra attentions, except Father Thomas, who bestowed a blessing on her right there at the table, but she felt Silas's eyes on her as she served his drink, ensuring she rubbed against his body with her arm. His gaze unnerved her to the point of a little spot of fear that began to form in her belly. Like she needed any more reason to worry after Scooter's gun revelation.
She hopped on her stool and waited for Jake to begin the deal, ready for this day to be over with. Ready for the whole tournament to be over with. As Jake began to spin the cards across the table, she leaned over to the side and adjusted the strap on her shoes, making sure she brushed against Silas with her shoulder. It probably wasn't necessary, but she wasn't going to take any risks.
When she straightened up, her eyes locked with Silas's, who had turned to stare at her, an amused look on his face. She yanked herself around on her stool and tried not to panic. That look on his face - it was almost like he knew exactly what she was doing.
She sucked in a breath and tried to remain calm. Jake may have an FBI-invented persona, but Mallory was exactly who she said she was. Granted, Silas wouldn't have found a connection between her and Jake, but it wouldn't have been difficult to find one between her and Reginald. In itself, that wasn't cause for concern, unless Silas kept pushing and ch
ecked with locals in Royal Flush. If he knew she was Reginald's niece and a cooler, he might assume the previous day's misdirection in cards was all her.
Which was true, but where did that leave her? It probably took the spotlight off Jake, which was a good thing, but what if Silas decided he wanted to pay Reginald back for setting him up by removing Mallory from the game permanently? All the tales she'd heard about Silas Hebert while growing up came rushing into her mind, making her pulse race. Even though most of them had come from her parents, she figured at least half had some truth in them.
Enough to scare the daylights out of her.
She blinked once and took a huge swallow of the cold water she'd brought for herself. Focus on the game. With any luck-mostly the bad kind-this whole fiasco would be over by this afternoon. At least the Silas Hebert part.
She checked the cards on the table and wasn't surprised to see Jake and Silas the only two remaining in this hand. But then Silas saw Jake's bet and raised him double that. Of course, Silas might have thought the table was still in his favor and Jake was bluffing. In that case, a bet that large would make sense.
Jake considered the raise for a second, then pushed over a stack of chips. "Call," he said, and flipped his cards over-an inside straight, seven through jack.
"Not bad," Silas said, and gave him a smile, "but not enough to beat a full house." He flipped his cards over and revealed the pair of fives and three tens.
Jake hesitated for just a moment, but managed to contain his surprise. Mallory was glad Silas was looking directly at him, because she was certain she'd done a horrible job in concealing her own.
What the hell had happened?
Surely it was a fluke, a mischance. The next hand would go the way she'd set it up to. But as Jake lifted his hand for the next round, she could see his mouth tighten ever so slightly. She wondered for a moment what that might mean but got her answer just seconds later as he folded his hand and bowed out of the round.
Okay, she could pass off one hand lost as a fluke, but two? Two was something more than a fluke but not yet a disaster.
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