Texas Hold 'Em

by Christie Craig

  “Wow, that’s the second time someone’s used that line with me in the last hour. I hope you’re not gonna make me feel like a bitch, too.”

  “Why would I… I’m not following you.”

  “I did what you suggested and called that guy. The guy who brought in Spooky.”

  “And?” Leah asked, pushing her own issues aside.

  “His wife and kid died,” Sara said.

  “What? When? He was married?” Leah asked.

  “No, not when he was here. But when I called him, he apologized for not calling me back after our lunch, and I got bitchy about it and asked for a reason. He told me he was still dealing with their deaths.”

  “Do you think he’s telling the truth?” Leah asked.

  “It didn’t sound like a lie.” She paused. “I don’t really know him, but I feel like I do. You know that weird feeling… as if it’s synchronicity or something. I felt that with him.”

  “You mean horny?” Leah asked in a teasing voice.

  Sara chuckled. “That, too.”

  Leah suddenly remembered her bleeding guest in the other room. “So that’s it. You’re not going to see him anymore?”

  “I don’t think so. I think me having a kid reminds him too much of his own kid and wife. Then again, he said he’d call me back. But I don’t think he will.”

  “I’m sorry,” Leah said. “But he’s not the only guy out there.”

  “I know,” Sara said. “There’s a ton of fishes in the sea. Just none of them seem to be for me.”

  “And you’re a poet—”

  “And didn’t know it,” Sara finished.

  Leah smiled, letting go of her woes. She glanced at the door. “I should go. Austin’s still here.”

  “Austin?” she asked.

  “The neighbor,” Leah said.

  “How is Mr. Drool-worthy?” Sara asked.

  “He’s bleeding. He caught the guy here and they fought.”

  “Wow, that’s kind of hot. He’s a hero.”

  Leah didn’t believe in heroes. “It’s not hot,” she said. “I’m not the horny one, remember?” But it was hot. For a minute there, she could swear he’d been going to kiss her, and for a minute there, she would have let him.

  “Liar,” Sara said.

  “Okay, I’m horny, but not as much as you.” She chuckled. “I’d better go.”

  They hung up, and Leah was about to walk out of the room when she saw something else, something half sticking out of the bed skirt. What was that?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ROBERTO SPOTTED TWO of Cruz’s goons in the office reception room.

  “You Roberto?” the crooked-nose man asked.

  “Yup.”

  He motioned for Roberto to go on back.

  The office door stood ajar; Cruz spoke on the phone.

  “It’s him, I’m telling you. That Johnny kid, he went to the same high school as him. I don’t know,” Cruz said. “But give me five minutes with him, and I’ll find out. I’ll take care of her, too.” The man almost smiled; started twirling a pencil in his hands. “Why not? Do you want her taught a lesson, or not?” Pause. “Fine. I’ll wait. But you know we’ll end up doing this anyway.”

  Roberto hung back, feigning disinterest. Something had happened, but what? He hoped it didn’t involve Brad.

  Cruz looked up and motioned him inside. Roberto moved in and sat in the chair opposite the desk.

  “Yeah,” Cruz said. “I will.” He hung up and let out a frustrated breath.

  “Problems?” Roberto asked.

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” he said. “What the hell took you so long?”

  “Needed a shower,” he lied.

  “I sent word for you to come straight here.”

  “I didn’t know it was urgent.” He leaned back in the chair.

  “Is this how you operate? If so, pack your shit and leave. I need people who know how to follow orders.”

  “Like I said, I didn’t know it was urgent.”

  Cruz met his gaze. “Whenever I tell you to do something, assume it’s urgent.”

  Go fuck yourself. “Easy enough.” Roberto’s gut gripped. If there was one thing he wasn’t good at, it was kissing ass. “So what’s the overtime job involve?”

  Cruz hesitated as if debating. He leaned back in his desk chair. It squealed in protest. “We need you to make a delivery.”

  “What kind?” he asked.

  “Does it matter?”

  “It does.” He leaned forward. “I’ve heard the last few deliveries have gone bad.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “The guys talk.”

  Cruz frowned. “We’ve had an issue lately. That’s why I want you to do this. Didn’t you tell me at lunch that you’re lucky?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you want the overtime or not?”

  “If overtime pays well, I do.”

  “You’ll be compensated.” Cruz nodded. “You’ll be going with Luke. You know him?”

  “Big guy with the crooked nose out front,” he said.

  “Yeah.” He paused. “The drop’s Thursday. You got your own piece?”

  “I do,” Roberto said.

  “Bring it with you and show up here at midnight on Wednesday.”

  “I thought it was Thursday.”

  “It’s not around here.”

  “Where is it?”

  “You’ll find out Wednesday. Or is there a reason you need to know now?” The man might as well have asked if he was planning on contacting the police.

  “No reason, just curious.”

  Cruz leaned forward. “Curiosity can kill the cat.”

  “I’m not a cat.” Roberto knew he’d screwed up the moment the words left his lips.

  “Yeah, but you can die just as easily. I know. I’ve killed more than my share. Both cats and men. If you work for me, you do what I say and don’t fucking ask questions. Got that?”

  Roberto nodded.

  “And if you’re late, that’ll piss me off. And you never want to do that.”

  “Got it.” Roberto got the feeling they were done. Or at least he hoped so; he’d kissed all the ass he could for one day. He stood to leave.

  “Hey,” Cruz said.

  Roberto turned around.

  “Have you spoken with Brad?”

  Roberto nodded. “Yesterday after work.”

  “Nothing today?”

  “No,” Roberto lied, remembering Brad’s panicked call this morning. “Is something wrong?”

  “I hope not. If you hear from him, tell him if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll call me.”

  Roberto walked out more worried than ever about what Brad had gotten himself into. And worried what he’d just gotten himself into.

  Austin moved closer to the bedroom, hoping to hear the conversation going on inside. But when Big Orange came strolling out, he shot back to his chair and plopped in it. When the cat kept coming he muttered.

  “Stay back.” Holy shit, how was he going to get through the next few hours without completely making an ass out of himself? Especially if the other three cats came in. Hell, she’d know he’d lied about owning a cat. His heart pounded. This was bad. He envisioned Tyler laughing his ass off at the situation. Not that he would tell Tyler.

  The cat moved closer. The thing was huge, too. Bigger than Lucky. Austin had to get out of here, but how?

  His gaze shot to the hall, praying another varmint didn’t come stalking in. None were. He refocused on Big Orange. He’d stopped inching forward but stared at him like prey. Austin stared back.

  Then, remembering that ignoring Lucky had encouraged the cat to do the same, he looked away but kept the animal in his peripheral vision.

  Obviously, Big Orange hadn’t gotten the “ignoring memo,” because he darted across the room and leaped up on the table, which put him less than six claw-range inches away.

  Austin jumped out of the seat. Aware that Leah could walk out at any minute, he we
nt and sat on the sofa. Realistically, he knew being afraid of something a tenth of his body weight was ridiculous. However, as Tyler had so enjoyably pointed out, phobias weren’t logical.

  Tyler had also suggested a few books that might help Austin deal with his phobia. Tyler knew a book for every problem known to mankind—and had read them. But Austin knew how to deal with this. Stay the hell away from cats. And since he and Lucky, who only came to the office once in a while, had come to the ignoring understanding, he hadn’t worried about it.

  The cat jumped off the table and strolled toward him. Austin waved his arms. The cat hopped up on the chair Austin had vacated.

  Leah walked back into the living room. “Look what I…” She stared at the cat in the chair where Austin had been seated a minute earlier.

  Austin cleared his throat.

  She swerved and studied him. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I just remembered I have some e-mails to send. That’s all.”

  “You look tense. You don’t have a headache, do you?”

  He relaxed his posture. “No. Just the e-mails.”

  She didn’t look convinced. After a second, she said, “Look what I found.”

  His gut knotted. Had she found the bugs?

  She held up a water gun. His water gun.

  He’d forgotten all about that.

  “I found it almost under the bed.” She sounded puzzled. “It had to belong to the guy who broke in here. But why would someone have a water gun?”

  Because cats don’t like water. “Wouldn’t have a clue,” Austin lied. And when Big Orange leaped up on the arm of the sofa and actually brushed against his arm, he popped up. “I’m going to run and take care of those e-mails.”

  “Not until I clean your wound. Sit down.”

  His gaze met hers. She looked damned determined to play doctor, and if the cat wasn’t there, and Austin wasn’t here under false pretenses, wild horses wouldn’t have been able to drag him away.

  He considered coming clean, telling her the truth. But damn it, he couldn’t. He couldn’t until he knew for certain what her relationship was with DeLuna. For all he knew, she could be protecting her brother. She could know exactly where he was.

  Austin’s gaze shifted to Big Orange again, but thinking of DeLuna upped his courage.

  “Fine.” He plopped down on the sofa. She dropped the water gun on the end table. Big Orange bounced off the arm of the sofa, landing on the cushion. It took everything Austin had not to grab the dang gun and shoot the beast.

  “Let me get the alcohol and gauze from the bathroom.” She walked into the hall.

  The cat inched toward him. Austin bolted up.

  He hadn’t completely gotten his footing when Leah popped back out of the hall doorway. “He messed up my laundry doors, too.”

  I couldn’t help that. Sorry. “I saw that.” Austin, standing by the sofa, tried not to look awkward or worse yet, terrified.

  She studied him. “You sure you’re okay?”

  He had to get out of there. Now.

  Roberto straddled his bike and was about to pull out of the office parking lot when his cell rang. Brad? He looked at the number. Familiar, but who? His mind went to Sara, but it wasn’t her number.

  It was Brad’s home phone. The man had only called him a couple of times from that number.

  He picked it up. “Where have you been?”

  “Roberto?” A female voice came across the line.

  “Yes?” Had he been wrong about the number?

  “This is Sandy, Brad’s wife.”

  Okay, not wrong about the number. But why was Sandy calling him? His mind raced. He’d met the woman once when she’d picked Brad up from work. But Roberto had seen her picture every time he went into Brad’s office. Brad kept the photo of her and his two girls front and center on his desk, unlike some men who had a picture pushed back on a bookshelf. Brad’s picture was placed for optimum viewing.

  “I’m worried,” the woman continued. “Brad hasn’t come home. He’s not answering his phone. And Kelly, our daughter, had her dance recital. Brad wouldn’t have missed it. He loves the girls and…” Her voice shook. “I know he’s friends with you. He spoke highly of you. I thought maybe you might know where he is. If he’s okay?”

  Roberto closed his eyes. “I… I haven’t spoken with him, Sandy.” It was a lie, but how could he tell her that her brother and DeLuna had sent Brad off to do something he didn’t want to do? He didn’t even know if Brad was alive.

  “Have you asked your brother?”

  “Cruz says he hasn’t heard from him. I think he’s hiding something. I’m worried. I thought about calling the police, but my brother would be furious. He’s up to no good. Now I’m worried it’s somehow caught up with my husband. I regret the day I suggested he go to work for him.”

  A sick feeling hit Roberto’s gut. “I’ll run up to Jimmy’s Ice House where the guys hang out after work. See if I can find out anything.”

  “Thank you. Brad said you were… different from the others.”

  Yeah, but what your husband didn’t know was that I was just using him to get to DeLuna. Guilt knotted Roberto’s shoulders. Not guilt for going after DeLuna—that asshole deserved it—but guilt for… for how easily he used others for his own means these days.

  He pinched the top of his nose. “If I find out anything I’ll call you.”

  Before he slipped the phone back into his pocket, he tried again to call Brad. It rang. No answer.

  Hanging up, he started his bike and drove to Jimmy’s Ice House.

  “The cut doesn’t need to be cleaned,” Austin said, ready to bolt.

  “Yes, it does. Don’t you dare leave!” Concern tightened Leah’s expression, and she went for supplies. Left him alone with the feline.

  Austin glared at the cat. Sitting on the opposite end of the sofa, it raised its paw at him, as if toying with him.

  “Stop it,” Austin whispered. He could swear that cat knew he was terrified and was determined to out him to Leah.

  When she came back a minute later, he and the cat had traded places again. “Are you two playing musical chairs?”

  Austin smiled. “I think he’s toying with me,” he said, hoping that came out sounding humorous and not like a person scared shitless.

  “Yeah, sometimes he likes to hide and jump out at you. He gets a kick out of scaring you.”

  “Thanks for the warning.” He eyed the feline.

  “Oh, it’s cute.”

  “I bet.” How could that be cute?

  She sat on the coffee table and positioned her supplies beside her. “Lean toward me.”

  The soft request had his nerves subsiding. He came forward but kept his head turned so he could keep an eye on the cat.

  Her hands moved in his hair like before, and if he wasn’t so tense about Big Orange, he would have enjoyed it again.

  “This might sting,” she said.

  She was right. It stung like the devil, but it was the cat leaping into his lap that had him cursing.

  “Shit,” he muttered, fighting the urge to bolt. He’d personally witnessed what cat claws could do to a human ear; he didn’t want to imagine what they could do to…

  “Sorry,” she said, thinking it was the alcohol, and she leaned in and blew on his scalp. The stinging stopped, but he didn’t dare breathe. Not with the animal in his lap and its sharp claws right above some important, tender male parts. The cat rearranged itself in Austin’s lap, faced Leah, and raised its paw, claws extended, to Leah.

  “I’ll love you later,” she cooed.

  Love? She was a friggin’ vet. Didn’t she know the damage a cat could do?

  When the cat repeated the motion, she waved the feline off his lap. The animal strolled into the hall. But he shot Austin one parting “go-to-hell” look.

  When Austin saw the long yellow tail disappear, his heart, which had crawled up his throat, slipped back into his chest. He glanced up and was immediately caught up in her w
arm brown eyes—eyes that still held the hint of her earlier fear. God, he hoped his own fear wasn’t as apparent. Then again, he’d spent years hiding his emotions. His motto: never let them know they are hurting you.

  “I can’t believe you got this because of me.” She frowned. “It’s going to be all sorts of bruised tomorrow. I’m sorry.” Sincerity rang in her voice.

  “You’re apologizing again,” he muttered.

  “Sorry.” She clamped her mouth shut; a smile appeared in the corners of her eyes. “Bad habit.”

  He supposed she could have worse ones. He smiled back. And this close all he could think about was waffle cones and kissing her. Sitting back, before he could claim her mouth, he picked up the picture of her and her brother.

  “Your brother?”

  “Yeah.” She reached in her pocket and pulled out her phone, as if checking for missed calls. “He was supposed to call me.”

  Was that who she’d called? Was her younger brother connected to the missing phone book?

  “How hard would it be to make one little call?” She stared at her phone.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “No. I mean… he’s out of town.” She glanced away as if to hide something. “I just worry. Being the bigger sister.”

  Did she also worry about her big brother? “You two close?”

  A nostalgic smile appeared on those sweet lips. “Yeah. He’s in college and busy with girls and such. We see each other twice a month. He’s a good kid.” Emotion sounded in her voice. Again he wondered if her younger brother knew how lucky he was. Austin hadn’t had anyone to care about him.

  He glanced back at the picture; the sadness in her young eyes seemed even more apparent. “How old were you here?”

  “Eight.”

  “Is he your only sibling?” He worked to keep his voice casual and met her gaze, hoping beyond hope that she’d be honest. Hell, he could find out what he needed to know tonight and get out of here before… before things got any more problematic.

  She hesitated. “Yeah.” The one word sounded heavy. As if it cost her to lie.

  He focused on the image to hide his disappointment. Why hadn’t she told him the truth? He started to judge her, then stopped. Did she lie for the same reason he lied when asked about his past? Because it was nobody’s damn business but his own?