My spider didn’t like any of them one bit. Neither did I, if I were being honest. But maybe I could use their condescending attitude to my advantage. A lie was a risk, wasn’t it?
“Well, I stole all this money from my cheating bastard of a husband, and I’d really like to lose it in a game. Kind of like he lost his wedding ring at the strip club last night. Ten grand should do the trick, right?” I said in a snarky tone while opening my purse for everyone to see.
The old man blanched and sat up straighter, suddenly very interested in what I had to offer.
“Well, darling. Why don’t you have a seat? I’d be happy to win your husband’s money,” the man said with a raspy cackle. “And if you really want to get back at him, my dick would look great in that sassy mouth of yours.”
I nearly gagged, though my spider was intrigued by this offer. Not because she was attracted to the scrawny sixty-year-old asking for a blow job, but because she wanted to make him pay.
Down, spidey. We need to find the risk demon, first.
An idea struck me. Risk. It was all about risk.
I needed to up the ante. Adrenaline spiked in my blood, pushing me to offer more than I wanted to bargain.
“How about this? If you manage to win all my money, I’ll gladly give you a blow job,” I replied with a sly smile.
He blanched, like that was the last thing he expected me to say. The sniggering college guys had eyes as big as saucers. “Holy shit, are you for real?” one of them asked, giving me a once-over.
“Yep,” I said with a sultry smile.
The one to the right with shaggy blond hair held up a hand. “Wait a minute. You don’t want your mouth anywhere near that ugly fucker,” he said, tipping his head in the man’s direction. The toothy sixty-year-old let out a string of insults that went ignored. “How about we make this deal a little steeper?” he challenged, his brown eyes flashing as he stared at my cleavage.
The beat of my heart kept going faster. “What are the terms, pretty boy?” I asked, not revealing the nerves I felt.
“You beat everyone at this table, and I’ll match your winnings.”
His friend cursed. “What the fuck, Gabe? Your dad will blow a fucking gasket.”
“And if I lose?” I asked.
Blondie shared a look with his friend. “You lose, then you come back to our hotel room and show us a good time.”
Fucking pig.
The odds of me winning were very, very bad. My pulse was going out of control. My palms were slick with nervousness, and I had the feeling I should run.
Which is why I knew I was finally hitting the mark. There was no greater risk than putting myself in this situation. And no greater risk for these humans to be stuck in a room with me.
I smiled and snaked my hand across the table to seal it with a handshake just as the dealer called for buy-ins. “You boys have yourselves a deal.”
I exchanged the entirety of my Spector cash for poker chips and rubbed my palms along my legs, eagerness pumping through my veins as the cards were dealt.
This was it. I was about to play for everything I had—both my money and my body. If I lost, I was losing more than those things, too. I was losing my shot at doing what Belvini wanted from me, and failure meant Aunt Marie’s life was on the line. Everything depended on the cards being shuffled. Everything could go terribly wrong.
The dealer was just about to start passing out cards when a hard hand suddenly wrapped around my arm. Heat embraced the side of my face as deliciously rough stubble scraped against my ear.
“Black Widow, I have to say, this is a nice look for you,” the haunting voice rasped.
My mouth parted as a shaky exhale left my lips, my body frozen. Everyone at the table looked over at the newcomer warily, but excitement flooded my veins. It was him. I wasn’t sure how I knew, but I did.
Woodsy sulfuric air filled my nose, and I had to force my spider not to spill webs from my fingers. “Sorry, gentlemen,” the smooth voice said as he straightened up behind me, though he kept his hand placed possessively over the nape of my neck. “Your game has one less player. This woman is a hustler and has been banned from the casino for a while now.”
My heart skipped a step, and I noticed the dealer press a button, probably to call over security.
“Bullshit. She made a bet, and I want to cash in,” the older man said, baring his yellow teeth.
Gross.
I still hadn’t seen the demon’s face, but his presence was palpable. My spine was straight as a rod and heavy with tension. Each raspy breath escaping my chest was erratic and harsh. Unease like anything I’d ever expected flooded my system, and suddenly, I wasn’t sure I was up to the task.
The risk was too great. What if I failed? What if my lure didn’t work? What if they hurt Aunt Marie because I couldn’t do this? What if I never saw Crow and Tomb again?
Fucking risk demon. He was winning already, and I hadn’t even seen his face.
When I finally willed myself to turn and meet his gaze, what I saw took my shaky breath away.
His eyes were dark and brimming with a raw, demanding power that had my spider salivating. He had a defined jaw and rough, dark facial hair casting shadows on his chiseled face. There was a timeless appeal about him, and he was utterly gorgeous in a tailored suit, swathed in dominating presence. He stood with the pride of someone that was self-assured, maybe even a bit cocky, but there was a mature aura
