Gambling for Ashleigh - E M Hayes

by Police

  Gambling for Ashleigh (Police and Fire: Operation Alpha)

  All In, Book One

  E.M. Hayes

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  © 2019 ACES PRESS, LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this work may be used, stored, reproduced or transmitted without written permission from the publisher except for brief quotations for review purposes as permitted by law.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please purchase your own copy.

  Dear Readers,

  Welcome to the Police and Fire: Operation Alpha Fan-Fiction world!

  If you are new to this amazing world, in a nutshell the author wrote a story using one or more of my characters in it. Sometimes that character has a major role in the story, and other times they are only mentioned briefly. This is perfectly legal and allowable because they are going through Aces Press to publish the story.

  This book is entirely the work of the author who wrote it. While I might have assisted with brainstorming and other ideas about which of my characters to use, I didn’t have any part in the process or writing or editing the story.

  I’m proud and excited that so many authors loved my characters enough that they wanted to write them into their own story. Thank you for supporting them, and me!

  READ ON!

  Xoxo

  Susan Stoker

  Contents

  1. Ashleigh

  2. Callum

  3. Callum

  4. Ashleigh

  5. Callum

  6. Callum

  7. Ashleigh

  8. Callum

  9. Ashleigh

  10. Callum

  11. Ashleigh

  12. Ashleigh

  13. Callum

  14. Callum

  15. Ashleigh

  16. Callum

  17. Ashleigh

  18. Callum

  About the Author

  More Special Forces: Operation Alpha World Books

  Books by Susan Stoker

  About the book

  In this game of poker, you’re either all in. Or you lose everything.

  After breaking up with her long-time boyfriend, Ashleigh Chapman moves to San Antonio to start over. That means doing everything she’s always wanted to try, including going to the Windy Wood Casino to learn how to gamble.

  What she doesn’t expect to do is witness a murder.

  Ex-police officer Callum Young wasn’t looking for romance when a pretty blond sits next to him at the casino. And he certainly wasn’t expecting her to get under his skin in a way that no other woman has since his wife died. But when she needs his protection, he pulls out all the stops to save the only person he’s cared about in four years.

  With a dangerous loan shark after them and an undeniable attraction growing between them, the stakes are higher than ever. And if Callum doesn’t play his hand right, Ashleigh will be the one paying the ultimate price.

  Ashleigh

  “Is this seat taken?”

  The man sitting at the blackjack table looks up at me in obvious annoyance. I’ve apparently made some sort of faux pas by interrupting this hand of blackjack, but I’ve never gambled before. Hell, I’ve never been in a casino before, not even to Las Vegas, but I’m here at the Windy Wood Casino outside of San Antonio because I want that to change.

  After all, life is an experience, right? For the past six months, I’ve been ticking things off my bucket list.

  I stand awkwardly with the chair pulled out, waiting for his answer. And he still doesn't say anything, except the look he gives me says that I should either sit down and shut up or go away and shut up.

  Not a pleasant guy. But his rudeness isn’t about to ruffle my feathers. I’m a new and improved Ashleigh Chapman. New city. New sights and sounds. And I’m going to make the most of it, dammit.

  I sit down, determined to embrace this new version of me. It probably helps that the stranger, rude as he is, is damned handsome. Broad shoulders, short brown hair cropped close to his head, the scruff of a beard coming in, and blue, icy eyes that I find somewhat exciting.

  Apparently, new Ashleigh likes to hang out with asshole men like this one. Which is fine by me.

  I set my purse on the table and based on the man's disapproving frown, that's probably something that I shouldn't do. I fight the roll of my eyes and sling it around the back of my chair.

  And then, nothing happens, like I’ve broken the game just by sitting here.

  The dealer in the white shirt and vest clears his throat. “What’s your bet?”

  I blink. “My bet?”

  “In order to play,” the man next to me rumbles in a deep, sexy voice, “you have to put money on the table.”

  I startle and grab my purse again. “Oh, right.” I take out my wallet and set a twenty down. “Is that enough?”

  The dealer cocks his head in a universal gesture of that’s-not-quite-right-but-it’ll-do, before taking away the bill and setting down four red poker chips. Perplexed, I take the chips and set them next to me, taking cues from Mr. Blue Eyes.

  I notice a smirk on his lips as he tosses one of his own red chips down on the table in front of him. So he does have a sense of humor. Or at least amusement.

  I’ll take it.

  I look at the red poker chip very quickly before putting it on the tablet. Shit, that’s five dollars all in one go.

  The dealer passes out two cards to each of us, before dealing himself cards, one down and one up. Taking a cue from the stranger, I peer down at my cards. A queen and a jack. I know that the point of the game is to get to twenty-one, and I think I have a good hand. Maybe.

  I glance over at the stranger next to me, and he’s hunched over as he looks at his cards like a high school student taking a test. I nearly snicker, and he raps the table with his knuckles. That must be code for something because the dealer puts another card down. I look down and do the math. Twenty-three. The man curses under his breath and sits back as the dealer takes the poker chip.

  Five dollars gone, just like that.

  Then the dealer looks at me.

  “Uhm, I’m good,” I say, then I remember the terminology for blackjack. “Stay.”

  The man next to me snickers as the dealer then flips his cards over. Nineteen against my twenty.

  "I win," I say, shocked at my good luck for my first outing of blackjack. The dealer places another chip on top of mine. He collects the cards as I put down another five-dollar bet.

  “Beginner’s luck,” the man grumbles next to me. Aw, his pride has taken a hit. I nudge him with my shoulder, ecstatic.

  “Probably,” I admit. “Only one way to find out.”

  As time passes by, I’ve turned my twenty-dollar bill into seventy bucks, and I’ve learned how to properly let the dealer know to hit me or stay. And as the time goes on, I’m wearing down Mr. Blue Eyes’ stoic demeanor and getting him to loosen up a bit.

  And by that, I mean, I'm actually getting him to talk. Which I consider a more significant win than a hand of blackjack.

  "I'm Ashleigh Chapman," I tell him as I pick up a gin and tonic from the cocktail waitress. I watch as he picks up water himself and hands the waitress a chip for a tip. So I do the same, an
d he gives me a tight smile, like he doesn't want to admit that he's amused.

  “Callum Young,” he tells me. “But you can call me Cal.”

  Finally, I hear his name. I like it. I take a sip of my drink. I like that, too.

  “I just moved to San Antonio,” I continue, setting down another chip. “New job. New city. New people. I figured with this fresh start, why not try new things?”

  “I suppose that includes going to a casino?” Cal places his own bet and turns to me.

  “Yep.”

  “And you’ve never even been to Las Vegas before?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “Never had the chance. And seeing that Windy Wood Casino is only an hour away, I thought I’d have a look.”

  “And you came alone?” He sounds surprised at that.

  "As I said, everything's new, and I wasn't going to wait to make new friends." I don't tell him about my breakup with Trevor and how I lost a lot of friends in that shuffle. I don't say to him that I moved to San Antonio out of necessity to start life anew. It feels too personal to tell a stranger.

  I press my lips together because even just thinking about it feels like a raw wound in my chest. "So what do you do, Cal?" I say to change the subject.

  He blinks and makes a little gesture to the table. “This.”

  “What, blackjack?”

  He smirks. “Gambling. I’m a professional gambler.”

  The dealer scoffs while passing out our cards, and Cal shoots him a dirty look. I guess Cal may be using the term professional gambler loosely.

  “What did you do before you were a professional gambler?”

  He peers at me. “What do you mean?”

  “Surely you didn’t grow up wishing you were a gambler,” I say. “You had to do something before that, right?”

  Or maybe people did just fall into gambling that way, and he's been doing this for a long time, with moderate success, it looks like. He doesn't look like a man on his last dollar. In fact, his button-down shirt and slacks say that he's doing all right.

  I watch as a muscle in his jaw tightens. “I was a cop for the SAPD.” He says it like it wasn’t his decision to leave. Yet I watch him with renewed interest now, because the more I get him to open up, the more layers I see to this grumpy so-called professional gambler. He was once a man in blue, and I’ve always had a thing for cops. Not that Trevor was a cop—he was a computer programmer like me—but I've had a massive crush on David Boreanez on Bones for forever.

  I also know when I’m losing an audience, so I pivot the conversation away from his past into more comfortable territory for me, although people tend to tune out when I tell them I’m in tech. “I just transferred here from Dallas.”

  He clears his throat. “What do you do?”

  “I’m in Dev Ops at AppSure.” I shrug. “They wanted me down here at the headquarters.”

  Cal sets down another five-dollar chip. “And what do you think of it?” He crosses his arms and puts his elbows on the table to look at me.

  “Coming from Dallas,” I say slowly as I add my own bet to the pot, “I have to say that central Texas is a lot more fun. There’s more spice.”

  The dealer passes out the cards. I glance down at my own before looking back at Cal, getting lost in his icy eyes.

  “And why do you say that?” he says softly.

  Wow, it feels like we’re sharing an intimate moment. I swallow thickly and sit back. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I haven’t grown up here and everything feels like an adventure. Maybe.” I give myself a little shake. “It’s just different, you know? I feel as though I can do anything.”

  “Well,” he says as the dealer passes out our cards. “Don’t go feeling that way too much.”

  I frown. “What makes you say that?”

  He gets to his feet, and I can’t help but look up at him in surprise. “Nothing’s ever what it seems.” He nods to his hand on the table—one that I see is a losing hand already—as he gathers up his poker chips, which are far less than what we started with here. “I’m out,” he tells the dealer in a tight voice.

  The dealer doesn’t even acknowledge him as he sweeps up the cards.

  Callum leaves.

  Just like that.

  I watch him go, just as perturbed as when I sat down here. What nerve to get up without saying good-bye. I groan and roll my eyes. Men. Just when I think I can scratch the surface of one, he leaves. Just like Trevor, my ex.

  But I won’t go there.

  I take out my phone and finally check the time.

  “Holy shit,” I mutter.

  It’s one in the morning. All that time had passed by without me even noticing. I could have sworn I had only been here for an hour, two at most. I just spent four hours with Callum. No wonder people become professional gamblers. I’ve already had an internship in it.

  “I think I’m done, too,” I tell the dealer in apology. I take the last sip of my drink and gather up my chips. The dealer only nods absently and cleans up.

  I feel a little stiff as I get to my feet. I sling my purse over my shoulder and look around, suddenly lost. “Uhm,” I say, biting my bottom lip, “how do I turn these into dollars? Do I hand them back to you?”

  “Go to the cashier’s desk,” the dealer says, pointing to a place somewhere behind me. I turn to peer across the vast expanse of the casino and see the sign for the cashier. I give a grateful nod to the dealer and head over there, only to realize that Callum is there before me, finishing up.

  He puts the cash in his wallet and flashes me a tight grin as he turns away. “Have a good night, Ashleigh Chapman.” I like the way he says my name.

  "You, too, Callum Young." I start to giggle, then stop, as I realize that I'm making an idiot out of myself. Too much to drink, admittedly, even though I've only had one and I feel sober. It's that I'm flirting with him. I stare after him for another moment before I realize that he's not going to turn or sweep me off my feet or anything that would typically happen in the movies. I give a little disappointed huff before turning to the cashier and dumping all my chips on there.

  All things considered, I did pretty well tonight. The cashier doesn't say anything but hands me seventy-three dollars in cash. Not bad for my first time playing blackjack. Maybe I should do this more often.

  I thank them and turn around before realizing that I have no idea how to get out of the casino. No windows, no exit signs, or any other way of showing the way out.

  “Shit,” I mutter to myself, as I cross my arms. I turn back to the cashier, then another direction. I can’t see Cal either, or else I would follow him out.

  I head back to the table where I spent the last several hours so that I could ask the dealer which way is out of the casino, only to find it empty and devoid of any evidence that I'd been there. All the other tables are empty, too, like it's break time for the casino.

  I thought casinos never closed, though, so why does it seem like that now?

  “Shit,” I mutter again. How did I even find this table in the first place?

  I start to roam around the casino, trying to find a semblance of anyone who works here. The cocktail waitress that served me my drink. I can’t seem to find janitors or help. I even lose my way back to the cashier’s desk, which is my last Hail Mary.

  They really don’t want you leaving the casino, do they? I’ve heard about that, but never witnessed it until now.

  Unfortunately, I also have to go to the bathroom. Hours of sitting at a table have done terrible things to my bladder. Luckily, I at least find a bathroom, and I go and do my business.

  When I leave the women’s side, I see that there’s a staff-only exit. I stare at it for a curious moment before making up my mind. All I have to do is go outside. Once there, I can find my car and head home.

  “Sounds like the perfect plan to me,” I murmur.

  Without a second thought, I head toward the staff-only exit and push my way out into the open night air. And right behind a dumpster tha
t smells like the entire casino has dumped last week’s leftovers all at once into the bin. I stumble and gag, clamping a hand over my mouth before I retch.

  "I'll get you your money. I swear!"

  I look up in the direction of the voice, mainly because I've never heard someone so frightened. There's a chill in the air that I didn't feel before. Even though I don't want to get closer to the dumpster, I do, peering over the edge of it to see what's happening.

  There are two men, one who looks like he's nervous and about to faint from fear. The other is an older man with red hair and a gut hanging out below his plaid shirt. They look like they're in an intense discussion, as if I've caught them in the middle of an argument.

  And then I see the gun. And the man who holds it is gesturing with it toward the frightened man. "You said that last week. And the week before that." The second man has a mix of gruffness and the Texas accent to his voice. "I'm starting to lose my patience."

  "Shit," I mutter into my hand. I can't take my eyes off the pistol. I don't know much about guns, especially in the dark like this. My experience with them is basically what I've seen on TV. But I know that this is a real one. And with the extended barrel, it looks like there's a silencer on it.

  This man means business.

  "I'll get you your money, Gary," the frightened man says. I can even hear the quiver in his voice. "Just give me a few more days."

  Should I go around them? Go back inside? Indecision roots me to my spot, in case the man with the guy spots me. What am I supposed to do?

  "As I've said, Jim," the man with the gun—Gary—says idly, "you've had your fair share of wasting my time. I've given you more than enough tries to make it up to me."