High Stakes: A Texas Heat Romance

by Camilla Stevens

  “Chance?” she asked cautiously as she approached the table.

  “Indeed. Care for an easy twenty?” he asked, waving the Andrew Jackson at her.

  She gave him a wary moment of consideration, as if debating the moral ramifications of giving a lap dance to the brother of the man she was a little more than friendly with. Then, she shrugged and plastered on a 100 megawatt smile before heading over to sit on his lap.

  “The chair opposite me will be fine.” He had no interest in the true purpose of a lap dance, he was strictly here for information.

  “The chair opposite you isn’t a lap dance.”

  “All the same.”

  “Listen,” she said, very matter-of-factly, “I make my living off tips. It isn’t exactly good for business if I’m not advertising what this body can do.”

  Fair enough.

  “Would an extra twenty dollars help?” he said, reaching for his wallet.

  “An extra twenty would make me suspicious as hell. Especially with no lap dance. Does Chip know you’re here?”

  He decided to play the trump card.

  “Chip is missing. No one has been able to get in touch with him. That’s why I’m here.”

  The human brain is fast and efficient, putting even the most powerful supercomputer to shame. Chance worked his at maximum speed, performing a visual autopsy as he processed her reaction to that information. Each tiny tic, twitch, blink, sigh, or other body movement, no matter how small, was analyzed.

  And Cherry’s, a.k.a Crystal’s, reaction threw him.

  The woman actually cared about Chip, quite a bit as it turned out.

  In the five seconds it took him to return to his original purpose—finding Chip—his heart softened her. A stripper with a heart of gold. Chance would have laughed at the cliché quality to it under other circumstances.

  Cherry fell into the seat across from him. He slid the two twenties across the table toward her for good measure. No sense in her not earning her way.

  “I know he always comes here. I just have to ask, do you recall if he met with anyone? Or maybe he discussed his plans with you or someone he was with?”

  He didn’t want to come right out and ask if she’d eavesdropped on any conversation. After all, every swindler needs at least the appearance of propriety. All the same, he was a desperate man. “Cherry—”

  “Crystal,” she said, momentarily breaking out of her shock. “Here, you need to say Crystal.”

  “Okay, Crystal. Was he here with anyone? Better yet, did you two do any talking?”

  She just shook her head in a kind of haze. “No talking.”

  Chance waited, letting her memory go to work.

  “He had his friend, the big, black guy with him. They’ve come in before together, not as much as they used to. I never caught his name. That one prefers the redheads.”

  Ronnie Johnson.

  Dammit, Chip!

  If Chip had been on probation, Ronnie Johnson would have been a definite violation. The two were thick as thieves, in every sense of the word.

  Now he knew Chip was up to no good. Based on that conversation back on the rig, Chance felt legitimately concerned about his brother’s welfare.

  “Thanks, Crystal,” he said. That was a strong enough lead to work with.

  Something in his face must have set her off. “What the hell is going on here, Chance?”

  “I have no idea, but it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

  “Judging by the look on your face, that’s a load of horse shit.”

  It shouldn’t have surprised him that a stripper might be almost as good at reading people as a poker player.

  “Listen, Cherry,” this time she didn’t bother to correct him, “I honestly have no idea what’s up with Chip, but whatever it is, it’s probably with people who aren’t very nice. I doubt it will trickle down to you, but watch your back all the same, especially if they have Russian accents. If it makes you feel any better, you’ve been a great help in figuring this whole thing out.”

  As the song transitioned into Scream by Timbaland, he could see that it didn’t make her feel that much better.

  Chance slid her another two twenties for her time. After all, she had paid for it tenfold.

  “Do you think Chip is okay?” she asked, just staring at the money.

  “I hope so,” he responded, “I hope so.”

  “Chance, my man.”

  Big and black didn’t even begin to describe Ronnie. He not only had a few inches on Chance’s 6’3” height, he was all muscle and the darkest man he’d ever laid eyes on. Perfect for playing Big Scary Dude in a hustle or serving as protection.

  It hadn’t taken Chance long to find him. If Chip spent most of his time at Cherry’s playground, Ronnie spent most of his in the gym. Chance had caught him the next day as he was leaving.

  “Ronnie,” Chance responded, giving him a look that told him that the jig was up.

  Ronnie just looked at him then gave a laugh. “Don’t even, man. He said you knew about the whole deal in the first place.”

  “What deal would that be?”

  Now Ronnie looked at him with surprise. “You honestly don’t know?”

  Chance just waited, letting him fill in the blanks.

  “Well shit, man. He didn’t tell me nothin’ either. Just said he needed me to back him up in something he had going down with someone.”

  “But you don’t know who?”

  Ronnie just shrugged.

  Chance felt his frustration growing. “Okay, word for word. What did he say?”

  Ronnie gave him an exasperated sigh. “Word for word: Ronnie, I’ve got a thing going down and I think I might need some protection.”

  “That’s it?”

  “He said it was probably legit but he wanted me there all the same. He said worst case scenario it may just be someone tryin’ to make sure he knew who was in charge.”

  That last earned Ronnie a sharp look. “That’s what he said? Make sure he knew who was in charge?”

  “Yep,” Ronnie said, “But then I didn’t hear from him so I guess it was off?”

  “He didn’t show up to the rig yesterday,” Chance explained.

  Now it was Ronnie’s turn to give Chance a sharp look. “Shit.”

  “Exactly. I think I know who it is.”

  “Man, who is it? I’m more than happy to deal with them,” Ronnie said. Once again, Chance realized that Chip had a knack for getting people to actually give two shits about him.

  “You’ve heard about who has stepped up to take Dmitri’s place?”

  They both said the name at the same time: “Leo Petrov.”

  20

  Juliet stared at the ridiculous pink thing sitting in the chair of the front office of her apartment building.

  “So you’re the one with the secret admirer,” said Anita, one of the women who worked there.

  Juliet gave her a confused smile as she stared at the huge pink bear, wondering what the hell to do with it.

  She had been in her office at Rice University all day, trying to organize her notes for her sabbatical.

  “This thing has been getting all sorts of attention today.”

  “I think it’s sweet,” said Chrissy, one of the other women in the office. “It’s such a nice change from boring old flowers and candy.”

  “So who’s the guy?”

  Juliet had a pretty good idea and just smiled without answering. Flowers or candy would have been far more practical, but who wanted practical? This pink bear was absurd and over the top and everything she had come to expect from Chance McCoy.

  “Just someone who’s totally ridiculous,” she said, laughing as she swung her tote bag full of books and papers around to her back in order to pick the darn thing up. Good grief, what the hell was she going to do with this bear that was practically half her size?

  “It came with this envelope,” Anita said, handing her a small white rectangle.

  Juliet put the bear
back down to open it. Inside was a small gift card that simply read:

  In remembrance.

  Odd, but Juliet supposed it worked even if Chance had only left Sunday.

  It was a struggle trying to get her key in the door while holding the huge bear and keeping her purse and tote bag from falling down her arm. When she finally managed to make it into her apartment, she placed it firmly on her couch and pulled out her cell phone.

  She knew Chance was on the rig and probably wouldn’t be able to answer, but she couldn’t let this little gift go without saying something to him about it right now.

  “Juliet,” Chance answered to her surprise. He sounded a bit warn out and harried. She had no idea what life was like on the rig but obviously it was intense work.

  “What in the world were you thinking?” she asked, laughing as she stared at her new pink friend.

  “What are you talking about?” she heard the sudden alertness in his voice.

  “This pink thing sitting on my living room couch,” she hinted.

  “Juliet,” she felt the slight creep of uncertainty crawl up her spine at the tone in that voice, “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  She blinked and the smile left her face. “The bear? Like the one you said your mom got up in Coney Island. I thought that was why—what’s going on here Chance?”

  “Juliet, you’re in your apartment right now, right?”

  “Yes.” Now the uncertainty was turning to fear. “Chance what’s going on?”

  “I don’t know, Juliet.” She could hear the controlled worry laced with anger in his voice. “Just stay there and hold tight. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”

  “What? Why aren’t you on the oil rig? What’s going on, Chance?” She could hear the tremble in her voice.

  “Just keep calm, Jule,” he said in a soothing voice. “I’ll be there quick as lightning, sweetheart.”

  Juliet tried to keep from shaking as she stared at that bear. All of a sudden the pink, fuzzy stuffed animal that was so ridiculously adorable a moment ago felt like her worst enemy.

  Juliet watched Chance’s face as he stared grimly at the pink bear on her couch trying to look for clues he didn’t seem to be finding. In fact, he seemed just as confounded and worried as she was.

  He had the card in his hand and kept looking back and forth between what was written on it and the bear.

  “It’s the exact damn bear,” he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. She saw his large biceps flex as the tension built up inside of him.

  She just waited. As clueless as they both were about this situation, he certainly had more information to go on than she did. Maybe somewhere in that head of his was the answer to all of this.

  “Did they say who delivered it?”

  “I didn’t ask. It didn’t seem important at the time.”

  Chance just nodded, staring at the floor as the gears in his head turned. “It probably wouldn’t matter anyway. I doubt whoever sent this would be dumb enough to deliver it themselves.”

  “I’m getting kinda worried here Chance. You have to tell me something, anything.”

  He brought his eyes up to her, and the dark gray anger that boiled in them made her heart stop. They cooled as soon as they met hers.

  “I’ll tell you everything I know, Jule. You deserve that. Especially since someone has seen fit to involve you.”

  That did nothing to quell her fears.

  “Someone is sending a message, but hell if I can figure it out.”

  “What message? And why would they send the bear to me?”

  “Apparently something to do with my dad.”

  “You said he died over twenty years ago. Why would someone be sending a message about him now, and why through me?” She could hear the hysteria growing in her voice.

  Chance came over to wrap his arms around her and she fell into him trying to calm herself down.

  “I don’t know sweetheart, but whoever they are, they’re going to pay for this.”

  She didn’t much like the sound of that. The last thing she wanted was for him to put himself in danger.

  “I just wish I knew where Chip was. That would clear things up.”

  She pulled away and looked up at him with alarm. “Chip is missing?”

  Chance grimaced, as though realizing he had just made things worse.

  Juliet pulled away from him. “Tell me everything, Chance.”

  He gave her a hard look then nodded. “Chip didn’t show up to the rig, yesterday. I went looking for him and based on what I found out,” he paused for a moment before continuing, “I think our new friend Leo Petrov, or at least one of his men may be involved. I just can’t figure out this damn bear thing,” he said, turning to look at it again.

  “Did they kill him?” she asked, though she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer.

  Chance flinched, as though her saying such a thing might cause it to be true. “I hope not. I’ve told the people he usually hangs out with to call me if he shows up. So far, nothing.”

  That’s when his phone rang.

  21

  “Ma!” Chance said, running toward his mother ahead of Juliet, who he had brought with him to the hospital. He wasn’t about to leave her by herself, especially after what he had been told over the phone.

  His mother was standing outside a hospital room talking to a man in a white coat that Chance assumed was the doctor in charge of his brother’s case. She turned at the sound of his voice and he read her face for clues.

  Chip was alive. She had told him that much over the phone. Everything written on her face told him that was where his brother’s luck had run out: the way her lips were pressed together; the eyes that were one minute away from spilling tears; the brows furrowed with worry; the arm crossed tightly over her middle; the other hand curled up in a fist by her mouth.

  He reached out to hug her. The way she gripped him, as though she couldn’t bear to lose him as well, made his stomach sink.

  “Chance,” she said, hugging him even tighter.

  “How is he?”

  She pulled away and turned to the doctor. “The doctor was just telling me. This is Chip’s brother.”

  The doctor resumed, giving Chance a somber nod. “As I was saying to your mother, Mr. McCoy had lost quite a bit of blood when he first came in. He was unconscious, but we were able to stabilize him. He has four gunshot wounds to the chest and abdomen. We were able to remove the bullets that weren’t a through and through. His lung collapsed from one of the injuries, and we had to remove the gallbladder, but otherwise no major organs were affected.

  “He didn’t have a phone or wallet on him when he arrived, just the envelope in there next to his bed. That’s why it took us so long to get in touch with you. Essentially, we had to wait until he woke up and was able to communicate with us.”

  “Is he up now? Can we talk to him?”

  “For a short period of time. The thing Mr. McCoy needs most right now is rest and recovery. I can give you ten minutes tops.”

  That was about nine minutes more than Chance needed to find out what happened.

  The doctor waited to see if they had any more questions, then left them to it. His mother opened the door and went in to see Chip.

  Chance walked over to Juliet. “I’m going to have a talk with Chip and find out what happened. Just wait right here, okay? I’ll be right back.”

  “Chance, I’ll be fine. Go see your brother. He needs you more than me.” She reached out to squeeze his arm reassuringly.

  He nodded and went to follow his mother into Chip’s room. The moment he entered, he stopped cold. Chip was normally about the same size as Chance, but the body lying on that bed now looked half his size. That was his baby brother lying there and someone had tried to kill him. He swallowed hard, trying not to focus on the memories that came pouring into his head: wrestling over the remote control; sharing comic books with one another; Chip tailing behind Chance and his friends, trying to ac
t more grown up than he was; teasing him back on Coney Island.

  Chip gave them both a weary smile as he opened his eyes to greet them.

  “You two look like hell,” he said with a lazy grin.

  “Oh, Chip,” their mother sighed and then the tears came.

  “Don’t, Ma,” Chip said tiredly, which did nothing to stem the flow.

  “What happened?” Chance asked, trying to keep it together for everyone’s sake.

  Chip turned his head to look at him. That look was the first sign of vitality Chance had seen since stepping into the room. Chip’s eyes—pure blue like their mother’s, without a hint of green or gray—blazed with such fire Chance actually caught his breath.

  “Dad,” was all he managed before sinking back into the pillow with exhaustion.

  That put a quick end to their mother’s tears. “What about him?”

  Chip turned back to her, hesitating.

  “Tell me,” she urged.

  “He wasn’t killed by that poker player. It was Peter. Peter Antonov.”

  That name made her audibly gasp.

  Chance had heard the story a million times growing up. Jackson McCoy had made his way up to Atlantic City to play in a major poker tournament, a legit game for once. Peter Antonov, another avid poker player had been there with his arm candy—and by all accounts, future wife—Katherine Vasiliev. Jackson had deliberately lost in order to woo the poor young girl who had been deserted for the day in favor of poker. By the end of the night she had run off with him, which had caused a pretty big rift among the Russian families of New York.

  That had been nothing compared to the wrath of Peter Antonov. There had been threats and even a few beatings. Through it all, Chance’s parents had stuck it out until finally her very influential family and the Sokolov family, the one that Peter was tied to, came to a truce. So long as Katherine had nothing more to do with her family or their “business,” she and Jackson could live in peace. They made their own home and family down in Houston and she left her old life behind, not once looking back.