Seven-Card Stud

by Ava Drake

  “God knows, you’ve thrown me out before.”

  “Watch your mouth.”

  He had to give them credit. The argument sounded real. Collin rose to his feet. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Elliot. I’ll consider your offer carefully. And in the meantime, your son and I have a poker tournament to prepare for.” He moved toward his lover and smoothly took Oliver’s elbow on the way by, forcibly spinning him around toward the door.

  “Say good-bye, Gun,” Collin ordered.

  “Good-bye, Gun,” Oliver snarled.

  “Don’t be surly. Your father was nothing but polite to me.”

  “Surly? Me?” Oliver exclaimed as Collin all but shoved him through the office door.

  “Yes. And childish.”

  “Childish?”

  “Immature too.”

  “What the actual fuck—” Oliver started as Collin all but shoved him down the hallway toward the gangplank.

  “Keep arguing and keep walking,” Collin muttered from behind his teeth. He added louder, “No wonder your father threw you out. You’re a brat.”

  “I am not! You’re the asshole here. What the hell are you doing hauling me off my father’s own yacht?”

  “I’m taking you back to the poker tournament, and I’m sincerely hoping one of my fellow players kicks your ass.”

  “Well, fuck you too.”

  They cleared the yacht and made it to the dock. Collin stretched out his stride, forcing Oliver to hustle to stay beside him. Punching in the code the guards had used to get him in, Collin opened the gate before one of the hotel security guards loitering on the beach could reach it from the other side.

  “We don’t need an escort back to the hotel, boys,” Collin snapped at the pair of men. “Go find yourselves a few girls and take a long lunch break, eh?”

  Startled by his verbal ire, the men fell back, giving him and Oliver wide berth.

  “Umm, really. What the fuck?” Oliver muttered.

  “My hack was discovered. Your old man said he would let me stay in the tournament if I help you win it.”

  Oliver burst out laughing beside him. “Oh my God, that’s rich. Does he know we’re—”

  “I don’t think so. And we need to keep it that way,” Collin bit out. “My life, and very possibly yours, depends on him not finding out. And given the degree of surveillance we now know to be in place, that means we have to stop seeing each other.”

  Oliver stopped to stare at him. Collin’s heart wailed in anguish, but this was his only choice. Regardless of whether or not Oliver and his father were in cahoots, Collin had to cut ties with Oliver. Now. Give up his lover and they both lived. Keep seeing Oliver and forfeit his life. More importantly, if he was reading George correctly, keep seeing Oliver and forfeit Oliver’s life.

  Collin said forcefully, “I’m not kidding. You and I are over.”

  “As in done?”

  “Finished,” Collin declared. “No longer a couple. Exes.”

  Chapter Ten

  OLIVER scowled at his fellow players as he sat down at the table. Everybody in this fucking resort was in his Rolodex of hate right now. He was pissed off at his father for interfering in his life, more pissed off at Collin for letting the bastard interfere, and most pissed off at himself for breaking his own cardinal rule and having feelings for Collin Callahan. He knew better than to let anyone inside his fortress of emotional solitude.

  He peeked at his hold cards, and they sucked. He didn’t care. He bet aggressively, completely faking out the other five players at his table and raking in a big pot. Stupid fuckers. Although exactly who he was mentally referring to, he wasn’t certain.

  Another hand. This time spectacular cards, and he bet wildly again. This time the other players were suspicious of his uncharacteristic betting and called every bet he made. The flop fell his way, he showed the table his winning hand, and raked in another huge pot. Hah. Assholes.

  His anger settled down a bit after the two quick wins, but he played from a state of cold, calculating fury the entire night, taking pleasure in busting out one after another of the players at the table, forcing them into reckless and foolish bets in the face of his ferocious play. By the time play was called for the night, he’d eliminated every other player at his table. He counted his chips, handed them in to the floor boss, and headed for the exit.

  A hand on his arm made him turn sharply.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Collin bit out. “Everyone here will be out to kill you after that show you just put on.”

  “Why do you care? We’re over, remember?”

  “That doesn’t mean I don’t care about your safety, you idiot.”

  Collin was calling him an idiot? The Brit was the one who’d called off the best thing he’d ever had. And he would lay odds it was the best relationship Collin had ever had too.

  “Stay away from me,” Oliver snapped.

  Collin’s hand fell off his elbow, and Oliver stalked down the hall toward the bar. Fuck him. Fuck them all.

  COLLIN winced as the big electronic leader board at one end of the ballroom was updated shortly after the end of play. Oliver had vaulted all the way into first place, and everyone in the room was buzzing about how he’d utterly destroyed his competitors. War stories about what a hell of a player Gun Elliot had been a few years back flew around Collin. The consensus was that Gun had found his mojo again and was now the player to beat. Which was to say, the player to kill, if George Elliot wasn’t the person engineering the killings. If not George and his cronies orchestrating the murders, that left one of the players as the murderous mastermind.

  What the hell was he supposed to do? He needed to keep a close eye on Oliver, but if they couldn’t be around each other, how was he going to keep the stubborn jerk alive? He had turned and stormed away the second Collin said they were finished. Oliver hadn’t given him one second’s benefit of the doubt and let Collin finish saying he wanted to continue a relationship after the tournament ended. Or maybe their relationship hadn’t meant a damned thing to Oliver, after all, and he’d been perfectly happy to walk away from Collin.

  Didn’t Oliver get that both their lives depended on keeping Oliver safe and in the game? It was the only reason George hadn’t already killed Collin or kicked him out of the tournament. George wanted Collin to help Oliver. Surely Oliver understood that George Elliot would squash Collin like a bug if anything happened to his son.

  C’mon, Oliver. Think it through. See the logic.

  Collin frowned. Maybe that same logic could work as an excuse to get close enough to Oliver to protect him without getting romantic. He could claim to be protecting Oliver on behalf of George.

  Hurrying back to his room, he scooped up Oliver’s laptop, which was still sitting on his desk, and headed to Oliver’s room. As he expected, Oliver was furious to find Collin at his door. And as Collin also expected, Oliver was drinking.

  “Whadda you want?” he demanded truculently.

  “Let me in, and I’ll tell you.”

  Oliver stepped back, gesturing with a glass half-full of ice and amber liquid. Going for hard liquor tonight? Was he more upset than he was letting on about Collin blowing him off?

  Nah. Wishful thinking. Oliver was probably pissed off at his old man for something or another, or maybe celebrating vaulting into the lead in the tournament.

  Collin sighed. If only Oliver would give him a tiny sliver of benefit of the doubt. It wasn’t that he’d wanted to break up with the guy. He had to. For both their safety. If only they’d met under different circumstances. “You left your laptop in my room.”

  Oliver snatched it out of his hands and tossed it onto the sofa. “Thanks. Now get out.”

  “Look, Oliver. Your father gave me no choice. I’m on his radar now, and he’ll be watching me. If he suspects that you and I are lovers, I got the distinct impression he would be extremely unhappy about that. Does he even know you’re gay?”

  “How can he not? I’ve fucked every g
ay dude between LA and San Francisco who would have me in the past few years. I don’t delude myself that I successfully hid from him. He has undoubtedly had surveillance on me and gotten reports on my antics.”

  “Which means he likely already suspects me of being your lover,” Collin added sarcastically, “That’s great.”

  “I get that I’m not worth taking a chance on.”

  Collin took a fast step forward and shoved Oliver back against the wall. “Cut the bullshit. I’d die for you and not regret doing so. But it’s your life I’m worried about, you colossal fool!”

  “My life? My old man wouldn’t kill me—”

  “Yes. Yes, he would. I happen to think your father is a psychopath with violent tendencies. My analysis, and that of my colleagues, is that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill you if you displeased or embarrassed him enough.”

  “Well, then, he should be thrilled to death after tonight’s round of play.”

  Collin glared into Oliver’s turbulent eyes. “Yeah, and now you’ve got a big fat target on your back. All the other players are going to be gunning for you, now. Figuratively and literally.”

  “Bring ’em on.”

  Collin sincerely hoped that was the whiskey talking. Otherwise Oliver’s odds of surviving the next week or two had just plummeted. What the hell was he supposed to do if the guy actually had a death wish?

  “Don’t you die on me,” Collin ground out.

  “Why? It’s not like you give a crap.”

  Collin checked his own anger. Was that what was making Oliver so surly? The guy thought Collin didn’t like him? “Tell me one thing, Oliver. Are you working with your father?” He stared into Oliver’s bright blue eyes, using every bit of his training and years of experience to look for the slightest sign of a lie in Oliver’s answer.

  For his part, Oliver froze, staring back at Collin. “Is that what you think? Is that why you broke up with me? You think I would conspire with that bastard?” Oliver huffed out an exasperated breath. “No power on earth could make me work with my old man. Ever.”

  “Promise?” Collin was afraid to hope, terrified to believe what he so desperately wished to be true.

  “On a stack of Bibles, man.”

  Collin sagged in relief. Oliver was telling the truth. The anger vibrating in his voice and the hurt lurking in the back of his eyes were too raw, too vulnerable to be fake.

  “But if you can’t take the heat,” Oliver added bitterly, “by all means, feel free to get out of the kitchen.”

  “Get your head out of your ass and look at me, Oliver. I’m here, aren’t I?”

  He shoved his chest up against Oliver’s aggressively. Oliver stared at him in shock. It was high time the guy got shocked out of his self-involved shell.

  “Collin, what the hell are you—”

  “Shut up and kiss me.” Collin grabbed Oliver’s face in his hands, and kissed the hell out of him.

  Oliver stiffened, resisting. And then all of a sudden Oliver kissed him back. Clothing went flying, and they surged onto the bed in a heated rush. Collin was firmly in charge today, pushing Oliver to respond, forcing the mathematician to acknowledge actual feelings, showing the surfer bum that he was so much more than a dropout from life, wrapping the lonely child in unconditional love and acceptance. He pinned Oliver to the mattress, using his weight and strength to subdue him when he would have reversed their positions.

  “Today I’m making love to you,” Collin declared. “It’s your turn to relax and let it happen.”

  “But—”

  “Deal with it. I’m showing you how I feel today, and you can just get over it.”

  Laughing a little, Oliver subsided against the pillows. “Well, then. I knew there was a spine in there somewhere.”

  “It’s always been there. You just haven’t pissed me off enough to make me show it.”

  “How did I piss you off? You’re the one who broke up with me out of the clear blue.”

  “And….” He kissed Oliver’s corded neck. “I only did it….” Nibbled on his ear, hard enough to make Oliver swear a little. “To save….” He bit Oliver’s shoulder hard enough to leave teeth marks and made Oliver rumble with laughter. “Your. Fucking. Life.”

  “Fucking being the operative word,” Oliver chuckled.

  Collin reached down past Oliver’s stone-hard erection to cup his balls. They were already tight and heavy, ready for action. Not to be outdone, Oliver gripped Collin’s cock as well, stroking it rhythmically, as if he would milk it dry.

  Collin’s back arched into the intense pleasure, and he shoved Oliver’s knees wide, grateful for his athleticism and flexibility. Propped on an elbow beside Oliver’s ear, he reached down to sheathe his dick in thin latex and smear the whole with plentiful gel. And then he was belly to belly with Oliver, pushing into the heat and tightness and vibrant excitement that was his lover.

  He relished how Oliver’s lips pulled away from his teeth in a rictus of pleasure-pain and then settled into a smile of delight as Collin started to move within him. Oliver’s blue eyes glazed over with pleasure, and his cock jumped against Collin’s abdomen. Collin angled his belly to stroke the entire underside of Oliver’s cock with each thrust of his own deep, deep inside Oliver.

  The sex was slippery and horny and wholly delicious. Oliver started groaning in the back of his throat, and Collin couldn’t have stopped if his life depended on it. With every thrust, he showed Oliver how much he cared about him. He silently declared Oliver important, worthy, and magnificent. He stared down into Oliver’s eyes and let him see every bit of the hopes and dreams he harbored for a brilliant man who’d temporarily lost his way in the world but had found Collin.

  Their bodies pumped together faster and faster, the tension building higher and higher until it became unbearable for both of them. Collin’s entire being gathered itself, paused for an endless moment of perfect anticipation, and then he exploded, emptying body and soul into Oliver. In response, Oliver came against his belly, surging up into him with a shout of release.

  They stilled gradually, their breathing ragged.

  Oliver stared up at him in wonder. “How did you find me?”

  Collin did not mistake the question Oliver was truly asking. He answered seriously, “You were always there, Oliver. All you needed was for someone to see you. The real you.”

  Oliver breathed on a long, slow sigh. “Thanks.”

  The terrible tension coiled in Collin’s gut ever since the interview with George Elliot unwound a little. “Promise me you’ll do everything in your power to stay alive.”

  “Only if you’ll promise me the same.”

  “Of course,” he lied. He didn’t stand a chance of winning this tournament from hell, but Oliver did. His primary mission had just shifted from finding out the prize to making sure Oliver was the one to collect it. “To that end,” Collin continued aloud, “I checked your laptop before I brought it to you, and you’re still inside the hotel’s mainframe. They didn’t find your incursion. Which means we still have access to the play tapes of the other players.”

  Oliver grinned up at him. “Why, Mr. Callahan. Are you suggesting that I cheat?”

  “Indeed I am. We’ll have to be careful, of course. But between the two of us, we ought to be able to spot any weaknesses your remaining opponents have.”

  “Our opponents,” Oliver declared. “You have to make it to the final table too.”

  Collin smiled politely and said nothing.

  “Okay, so how do we do this without tipping off my old man?” Oliver declared, jumping out of bed and heading for the shower.

  Collin sat up, enjoying the sight of Oliver’s tight bum and long, muscular thighs. “You’re staying in the room for this rest day. I’m going out to buy a bunch of food, and then the two of us are holing up in your room and not coming out except to play.”

  Oliver’s head poked out the bathroom door. “That sounds fun, but won’t my father realize we’re together?”

&nb
sp; “I already wrote a small virus that’s going to cause the hotel’s cameras inexplicable glitches for the next few weeks. At the top of every hour, the surveillance cameras in the hallway outside your room will freeze on whatever image they’re currently showing for two minutes,” Collin replied. Odds were that most of the time, the cameras would be freezing on a still picture of an empty hallway. He expected that 90 percent or more of the camera glitches wouldn’t even be discovered. Only if a person were caught in a frame at the exact second the camera froze would the security people even become aware of it. It was the sort of gremlin that should drive the security team crazy before they solved it.

  “So we’ll have a window of time in which to come and go unseen,” Oliver breathed. “Nice.”

  “Speaking of which, we’re coming up on the hour in a few minutes.”

  Collin washed up after their sex and threw on his clothes hastily. He let himself out of the room and strode quickly down the hallway to the elevator. As the seconds ticked by, his tension increased. He was on the verge of bolting for the stairwell when the elevator opened, and he hurried inside. Man, that had been close. He should have programmed two or three more minutes into the camera failure. Except even two minutes had been pushing it.

  He went downstairs and grabbed a bite to eat as the buffet was winding down and returned to his room alone. He napped for a few hours until the sun came up and Gibraltar’s businesses opened for the new day. It sucked sleeping without Oliver’s vibrant warmth beside him, but better a cold bed than a dead lover.

  Safely buried in the middle of the pack of remaining players, he highly doubted he was perceived as a threat to any of the other players. Using that anonymity, he took a taxi to a market and grabbed enough snacks, fruits, and premade sandwiches to see him and Oliver through today’s break in play and tomorrow morning and afternoon. No sense risking anyone poisoning them.

  While he waited for a cab to pick him up from the market, he made a quick call to Wild Cards, Inc. He reported briefly that he’d met George Elliot, and that the profile of the man was spot-on. Then he asked, “Any news from your end?”