High Stakes

by Pierce, Nicolette

  High Stakes

  By Nicolette Pierce

  Published by Nicolette Pierce at Smashwords

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

  Copyright © 2013 by Nicolette Pierce

  Cover design by Lan Gao

  All rights reserved.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold 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, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Dedication

  For Rick, my poker coach.

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to my fabulous team of editors. Their hard work, wonderful suggestions, and straight-forward critiques helped keep me on the right path. This book wouldn’t be the same without their input. Thank you!

  Victoria Jacobson

  Judy Hanson

  Nikki Gavin

  Thank you to Steve Lindbloom for the awesome book cover and for suffering through all the tweaks and changes that went along with it.

  Thank you to Lan Gao for the final book cover to smooth out the series.

  And, a special thank you to Amber Barry who has painstakingly helped transition my work into—let’s call it what it is—a masterpiece. Tee hee.

  Books by Nicolette Pierce

  Mars Cannon Novels

  Deadly Dancing

  Predator Patrol

  Security Squad

  Biker Brigade

  Nadia Wolf Novels

  The Big Blind

  High Stakes

  Cashing Out

  Squeeze Play

  Nadia Wolf Character Novels

  The Last Tailored Suit

  My Traitor

  Please visit Nicolette on her website at:

  www.nicolettepierce.com

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  “If you’re playing a poker game and you look around the table and can’t tell who the sucker is, it’s you.”

  ~Paul Newman

  Chapter 1

  I wasn’t paying attention to the two playing cards placed on the table in front of me. Instead, I was struggling to focus on a man whose left eye twitched as rapidly as a racing heartbeat.

  I debated whether his eye twitch was telling me something. Perhaps he was bluffing. Since he’d been twitching for the last hour, I suspected he might have gone a little loony. I didn’t blame him one bit. The man sitting between us smelled like Limburger cheese with an underlying scent of barnyard goat and an extra-foul stench I was afraid to identify for fear of gagging at the table. And the sight of me was enough to unnerve even the strongest poker player.

  My name is Nadia Wolf. I’m a professional poker player most of the time. I also help my boss, landlord, and friend, Frankie Garza, at All Celebrities Chapel. That is where I help blissfully drunk couples tie the knot in exchange for cheap rent on my apartment, which is located two floors above the chapel. Recently, I’ve been blindsided by Frankie’s newest craze of becoming my poker manager. So far he’s found two gigs that left me embarrassed and YouTube viewers chuckling.

  Normally, I believe I’m decent in the looks department. However, after a flight to Panama and four hours of tossing and turning on a lumpy hotel couch, my usually green eyes are red and puffy. They accent my already bruised eyes perfectly. My typically straight brown hair was frizzed and snarled from travel and a lack of necessities to make it decent. I’m twenty-eight, but I ache like I’m eighty from all the abuse I’ve taken over the last couple of days.

  The bruised, black-and-blue eyes were a leftover gift from my run-in with Dagor Moliente. He’s a scary man who wanted to become my big daddy, but now he just wants me dead. I don’t want to think about him; it is only a matter of time until he finds me. I lack the fortified stomach to turn to the last page of that playbook.

  My current focus was to make it through this damn poker tournament Frankie signed me up for . . . and then to find soap. Lots of it.

  Having had only a small window of time to make it to the plane, it had been necessary to either forget my bag or forget the trip. I had to forgo the winding baggage line and abandon my suitcase behind a large potted plant for Frankie to pick up. In hindsight, I should have stayed home because I am now in sheer hell. I’ve been wearing the same outfit I arrived in since there was no time to buy any clothing or necessities, and I can’t recall taking a shower this morning.

  A sickening thought trudged through my sluggish mind: What if I’m the one who smells like Limburger cheese and dirty goat? I gave myself an undercover sniff. My nose was already so full of the foul stench that I couldn’t tell.

  I had no idea how long I’d been sitting at this poker table or in what casino this poker table belonged. The last piece of news I had received from Frankie was that I was flying to South America to play in one segment of the Latin Poker Tour. Now I realize it’s actually Central America. Panama City to be specific. Frankie’s geography knowledge stops at the Las Vegas city limits.

  Frankie had given me the news only a few hours before I was supposed to board the plane. This didn’t surprise me about Frankie. What did surprise me was finding Caleb Usher in the plane seat next to me.

  Caleb Usher is my enemy at the poker table. He has an amazing talent for being able to read his opponents and catch them in a bluff. With his cavalier style, he tricks them to play hands they might not have otherwise played. His infallible luck finishes them off. I was on the demolished end of the table more times than I care to confess. But thankfully—or maybe not—I whittled my days down at the small-stakes table while he sat in the high-stakes room where only those with a one-hundred-grand buy-in could play.

  Since he had entered this tournament as well, it was only a matter of time before Caleb and I would find ourselves at the same table again. The previous tournament we played together he’d beaten me with the worst possible hand a player could get: a seven-two off suit. He then continued the tournament and won the million-dollar prize along with the diamond bracelet. In the poker world, this was like winning the Super Bowl and being awarded a championship ring.

  Before he beat me in the soul-crushing hand, we had entered into a side wager. Most poker players love a good side wager. I was one of those suckers. My lesson learned: Never enter into a wager with a man who can’t lose. Did I learn this the first time? No. I had to repeat the same mistake. And now, I technically owe Caleb a weekend of no-strings-attached lusty sex. The thought of a weekend alone with Caleb made my blood run hot, but it also made me jittery, which is why I couldn’t sleep on the plane or on the lum
py sofa in Caleb’s suite, where I took refuge.

  Frankie, in his infinite wisdom to cut costs, said I was sharing a room with another poker player. What he didn’t tell me was that he never booked a room. He did some sneaky snooping and discovered what room Caleb was registered to stay in and then wrote me a scribbled note as to which room I would be staying in; they were the same. Caleb hasn’t officially said this was the time I had to “pay up,” but he’s an opportunist. A setup like this would be a horrible waste if he didn’t pounce on me . . . pounce on it, I mean.

  On the plane ride, I had imagined all the wonderful ways I was going to kill Frankie when I returned . . . if I returned. Frankie assumed I would place high enough in the tournament to win money, thereby prompting him to save even more money by buying me only a one-way ticket. To put it mildly, Panama customs was not happy. Seems there is a restriction on one-way flights to Panama. Leave it to Frankie to find the cheapskate’s loophole through a country’s restriction. After a brief detention with customs, Caleb was able to smooth talk the authorities to allow me to leave with him. I’m sure some money exchanged hands, but I wasn’t there to witness it as I was in the naughty-tourist cell.

  But right now I didn’t want to worry about my lack of travel arrangements home or how I was going to repay Caleb for his chivalrous bribery. I just wanted this day to be over. A shower would be divine too. A shower with Caleb would be even better, but I wouldn’t allow him the satisfaction. Tonight, my damn morals and I will be sleeping on the couch again.

  Caleb Usher made my insides hum when he was near. He made the insides of most women hum. He was relaxed, easygoing, and had blue eyes that always had a hint of mischievousness in them. His hair was casually maintained and naturally highlighted by the sun. Its tousled brown and caramel waves made me want to rake my fingers through it.

  I scanned the room to see if I could spot him. Normally, I just had to look for a blonde with big bosoms, and Caleb wouldn’t be too far away. It’s not that he runs after women, but he certainly doesn’t deter them. The buxom beauties radar into his studly frequency and hone in for the kill.

  His manager, Jessica, sometimes hires a model to be at his side for televised tournaments and events. She believes having a beautiful woman draped on his arm boosts his following with the average married-male poker fanatic. I’m sure she’s right, but she could save them both money because beautiful women seek him out. They’d drape on him for free.

  My eyes caught a flash of platinum blonde. Yep! There was Caleb, oblivious to the blonde who had a tray of drinks in her hand. He was staring down a man at his table. The blonde maneuvered closer to Caleb, positioning herself in his line of vision and tossing her hair over her shoulder. His eyes never left the man. She could shake her tatas in front of him, and he wouldn’t blink. I smiled. That was the part of Caleb I liked. While he enjoyed the games women loved to play with him, they weren’t even on the same playing field with him while he was working.

  “Can I call a timer?” a man asked.

  I blinked and scanned the table. Six pairs of eyes were intently set on me. I gulped. I was off in la-la land, and I had a hand sitting in front of me. I didn’t even know what cards I had. I shoved my hand back to the dealer. I could have had pocket aces for all I knew, but I threw it away. I was too embarrassed to even look at the cards. Where was my head? I already knew the answer. It was halfway between Caleb and sleep.

  There was another reason why I couldn’t sleep. While Caleb was in the seat next to me on the plane, I had spotted Dagor Moliente a few rows behind me, fleeing the country to escape from the police. Dagor wanted me dead. And now that he was in the same country as I was, he’d be determined to hunt me down.

  My run-ins with Dagor were terrifying at best. I almost lost my life and the lives of Mya and Gus to him.

  After the tournament, I’ll call the police and keep my eye out for him. But right now, I had to worry about keeping my eyes open so I could crawl my way through the tournament.

  Caleb uprooted me from my chair. “You’re dead to the world.”

  I squinted at him through dry, blurry eyes. “How long have we been playing?”

  “About eight hours.”

  “No wonder my ass hurts.”

  He chuckled.

  I squinted my eyes to help me focus, but I was going on two days with no sleep. I leaned onto Caleb for support.

  “Are you hungry? Or do you want to go to the hotel and sleep?”

  “I don’t even know anymore. Everything hurts.”

  “Then let’s go to the hotel. I’ll call room service.”

  “Okay.”

  I let him take charge of me. It was a risky thing to do. But if it was up to me, I’d have curled up under the poker table and passed out. He escorted me to a taxi, and we climbed into the backseat. I slipped under Caleb’s arm and rested my head on his shoulder. It seemed like the most comfortable way to go, and it kept me from sliding on the leather seats while the taxi driver sped around turns like he was in a drifting competition.

  “Go ahead and sleep. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

  I awoke to a dark room. It was quiet. I knew right then I wasn’t in Las Vegas. My apartment at All Celebrities Chapel was on a busy street. Traffic streamed past it at all hours of the night. This place was too quiet.

  A movement on the bed and the warmth of a leg touching mine sent me scurrying from the bed and into the darkness.

  “Nadia, are you okay?” a groggy voice asked.

  “Where am I?”

  “At the hotel.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Caleb.”

  Memories fast-forwarded like a film reel half off its spokes. I remembered the plane and parts of the poker tournament. But then it’s hazy at best and mostly just blank after that.

  Caleb shifted to sit up. “Come back to bed. You’re jet lagged.”

  “Did we sleep together?”

  “Do you mean sleep in the same bed? Yes. But if you mean sex, then no, we didn’t.”

  I let out a sigh of relief. If I was going to sleep with Caleb, I wanted to be clean. I also wanted to remember it since I was pretty sure it would only be a one-time adventure. A thrilling one-time adventure.

  “I want to shower.”

  “It’s three in the morning.”

  “I’m disgusting. I’ve been in the same clothes for two days.”

  “You’re not wearing any clothes.”

  “What?” I shrieked. My hands flew to my stomach. I felt around but only came in contact with skin. “Did you strip me?” I searched for the nearest object to launch at him.

  “I carried you in from the taxi ride. You were totally passed out. I tucked you into bed, and five minutes later you were mumbling about smelly cheese and began flinging off your clothes.”

  “Why didn’t you stop me?”

  “You were obviously sleeping, and it was entertaining.”

  I could detect by the sound of his voice that he was smiling.

  I groaned. “Are you naked too?”

  “Yes. Would you care to peek?”

  “No! I can’t believe you got naked too.”

  “It seemed only fair.”

  “There could have been a serious accident of colliding body parts.”

  He chuckled. “You were so sweet and snuggled right up against me.”

  “I’m not sweet. That snuggle was unintentional.”

  “Play it how you want. I’m going back to sleep.”

  I growled and stomped to the bathroom. I was desperate for a shower. It might wash off the airplane funk and the Caleb funk burgeoning my mind.

  This is why I avoided the poker table with him. He can trip me up with one word or gaze. I can’t believe I stripped in front of him. I must have looked insane yammering about smelly cheese and ripping off my clothes.

  I twisted the knob to turn on the shower and let the water pour over my head. My thoughts drifted from Caleb to Greyson Miller. He’s another one who can
trip me up; all it takes is one look into his steel-gray eyes. He has two brothers with the same unnerving eyes. I’ve only had the occasion to meet David. He was a handful, but luckily, he’s married and someone else’s problem. Ian, the other brother, travels to exotic countries. I’m glad we haven’t met. I can only handle one Miller brother at a time.

  One good thing is I don’t have to worry about Greyson at the tables since he never plays poker. He’s the CEO of the Rotunda Casino Empire in Las Vegas and stays in the penthouse at his Lost City Casino. It’s my preferred casino when I play, though that has nothing to do with him. At least it didn’t.

  I left Greyson’s bed two nights ago, thoroughly exhausted and extremely satisfied. Due to a counterfeit laundering scheme that happened in his casino and the media frenzy aftermath, he’s given us a six-month break so he can save his casino from possible ruin.

  The six-month break was unnecessary since we weren’t dating. I had only known Greyson for a little over a week, so we were hardly attached. Circumstances kept throwing us at each other, and then we had one big and unbelievably satisfying farewell before I boarded my plane and he withdrew to save his casino. I guess the six-month break defines where we stand with each other. Nowhere.

  I’d like to think he misses me right now, but that would be like pitching pennies into a swamp for good luck. He’s focused on his career. And if Frankie was allowed to marry people to their careers, Greyson would be pushed to the front of the line. However, even though he would marry his job, he gave me all of his attention when I was in the same room. I sucked it up like a Bissell.