“We’replaying for real,” Faber said. At a silent signal, a mere glance aroundthe room, four other guys gathered until the table was full. “Play towin—I’ll know if you’re throwing the game to try to make me feelbetter.”
Theboss slid over a rack of chips, which was rather nice of him, notrequiring Ben to put up his own stake.
“Drink?”Faber asked, as the redhead dealt the first hand.
“Just water,” Bensaid.
“Wuss.”
Benjust smiled.
Mr.New York, the thug who’d first shown his gun to Ben back at the casino,went over to Faber and leaned on the back of the chair to whisper aconference to the boss. He probably thought he was whispering, andnone of the others could probably hear him. But Ben tilted his ear,held his breath, and listened.
“Thisis a bad idea. The cops are going to be looking for him, Mr. Faber,”the thug said.
Faberturned to whisper back, “You were supposed to stay out of sight.”
“Yeah,right, in this town?”
Faberglared at him. “Enough, Vince. Go away.”
Thethug, Vince, straightened, regarded the boss a moment, scowling, thenwent back to his guard post.
Bendidn’t flinch, didn’t glance, didn’t give a sign that he’d heard. Infact, he tried to ignore them, because it didn’t mean anything. Wouldanyone even notice he’d gone missing? Sure, Kitty would. At sixo’clock, when he was due at the chapel.
Helooked at his pair of cards. An ace and an eight. Start of a dead man’shand. Swell.
Theyplayed.
“So.Ben. What is it you do?” Faber asked. Small talk. Real small.
“I’m alawyer,” Ben said, and this was just like any other party, the waypeople reacted. The raised eyebrows, the twitches. It was like lawyerswere their own species. People made so many assumptions, theseguys probably even more than most.
Faberdidn’t flinch, didn’t change his expression. “Yeah? You some kind ofhot shot assistant DA type? Prosecuting the lowlifes, cleaning up thestreets?” The thugs chuckled. What did you call a group of thugs,anyway? A crowd? A flock? A brute—a brute of thugs.
“Criminaldefense,” Ben said, deadpan. And that got the guys to look up. A coupleof the bodyguard thugs even nodded to each other, like, Yeah, he’s all right. Ben wanted to tell them, don’tget that idea. I’m not one of you. But heknew all about guys like them. He knew what made them tick.
Thefour extra guys Faber brought in were either pros or near enough to itnot to make a difference. They watched the table with stone cold gazes,pretended they weren’t looking at each other. Never glanced at theircards a second time. One of them spun a chip between his fingers, acomplicated bit of fidgeting that drew Ben’s eye. Distracted him. Theywere playing mind games with their intimidating fronts. They’d wonjust about every pot, and Ben’s stack of chips was dwindling.
Theyall deferred to Faber. Subtly, the way they let him make the calls,waited for him to signal the next round, didn’t call for drinks untilhe did. Faber was the alpha in this room. Ben suppressed a smile at thethought—and had to suppress another one when a couple of gazes turnedhis way, noticing the change in expression.
Theythought they caught something. They thought they’d spotted his tell.They were all sitting there thinking Ben was in way over hishead. But that wasn’t a big secret—anybody could tell that just bylooking.
Hetried to avoid the beginner mistakes. Threw out more hands than he beton, played tight but not too tight, tried not to walk into any traps,and so on. At the same time, he wondered what Faber was hoping todiscover with all this. Did he think Ben was some kind of poker genius?
Andagain, his mind wandered from the game.
Heshouldn’t be able to win at poker at all. He hadn’t studied the game,never put together any real strategy. It was an excuse to drink beerand socialize. He hadn’t gotten any better at the game, really. But hewas so much more aware. He didn’t have to knowwhat the cards were doing because this was all about the people. Theway Faber didn’t seem to look at anyone. The way his flunky onlylooked at Faber—hungrily, with his hands opening and closing. Benthought he knew what that meant. Knew a look of tightly maskedchallenge. Mr. New York thug wasn’t happy being the enforcer. Wanted tomaybe move up the ranks like Faber had.
Thegirls here were messing everything up. Their smell—too much perfume,hairspray, sex. The way two of them brushed his shoulders every timethey walked behind his chair. They were supposed to be distracting him.His shoulders grew more tense. Back at the casino, when he’d beenfocused, everything had been so clear. Now—he might as well have beenwrapped in cotton. His mind wasn’t on the game at all.
Kittywas going to think he stood her up.
Amazing,that he’d discovered advantages to being a werewolf. The most obvious:shacking up with Kitty. They’d have never hooked up if he hadn’t becomea werewolf. He’d have never had the courage to ask her out if shehadn’t jumped him while they were naked in the woods. Not to mention,you didn’t ask out clients. Well, that wasn’t true. He might have askedher out, eventually. If he’d had a chance to get to know her like hedid now. But so many things could have gotten in the way of that . . .
Hewasn’t the kind of guy to believe that things happened for a reason.He’d seen too much random shit in his life for that, too many goodpeople gone bad, too many bad people getting a free ride. Chaos, allof it.
Butmaybe this had happened for a reason.
Sixp.m. came and went, and oddly enough, Ben’s anxiety lessened. Thetime for the wedding, here and gone. People definitely knew he wasmissing by now. Assuming Kitty didn’t think he’d gotten cold feet andleft town. She had to know he wouldn’t do that. Right? He hoped she’dknow.
He’dsee her again soon. He kept telling himself that. Had to believe it.
Onthe other side of the table, a hand flinched where there shouldn’t havebeen any movement at all. Ben caught the flicker of movement. Like arabbit twitching in a forest.
“Youjust palmed a card. Probably an ace,” he
