Unlucky by Jana DeLeon Read Free Book Online Page A

evening news item. Banker fired for suspected embezzling of funds, but the whole story had disappeared as quickly as it had hit the public eye, making Mallory wonder exactly which judge or upper law-enforcement figure the banker had on his private payroll.
    Not a bad first player. An overweight businessman whose weapon of choice was a computer didn't pose much threat to her as she saw things. Peering at the doors, she wondered if she'd fare as well on the second round.
    She did a double take when the next man to walk through the doors was none other than her nemesis, Walter Royal. Her mouth went dry, and she clenched her fists as he smiled at the hostess and tipped his cowboy hat. The idiot was always wearing that damned cowboy hat, even though she'd bet all of her forty thousand that he'd never even touched a horse, much less ridden one.
    Immediately, she was angry with herself for not seeing this one coming. J.T. had told her straight off that some locals were included in the mix. Walter Royal was an important man in Royal Flush, whether she or anyone else liked it. Her uncle would have been remiss not to include him in the players' list. Not to mention that only a handful of people in Royal Flush could afford the stakes of this tournament.
    Still, she hoped her uncle had been wise enough to place Royal far, far away from her, where she couldn't be distracted from play by thoughts of dumping him overboard somewhere in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico. She let out a sigh of relief when the hostess pointed her enemy to the far side of the room to a table next to Amy's.
    With that momentary concern alleviated, number two for her table was bound to be a breeze. She could hardly contain her relief when Two turned out to be a small-time mob man for the Monceaux family out of New Orleans. She'd seen him numerous times on the news. Always smiling, always touting his innocence. Apparently he was right, since he was still walking around and playing poker. Or he had even deeper pockets than the banker. Either way, he was mostly wanted for racketeering and hadn't had any violent offenses that she'd heard of.
    But as the third player approached the table, Mallory felt a chill run through her. Silas Hebert. And for just a moment, her confidence wavered.
    Silas Hebert was no small-time racketeer or foolish banker. The man was tall, almost imposing, and there was none of the flab to his body like her uncle. This was a man who worked out and worked out hard. His black hair was thinner than the pictures she'd seen of him when he was younger, but the eyes were the same, the same shade as his hair. And his glare could cut right through you.
    There was no denying it--Silas Hebert was a force to be reckoned with.
    Mallory sucked in a breath and tried to calm her nerves.
You can handle this. He's just a man. So what if he's a professional gambler and he's usually wanted for very scary stuff? He's here to play poker, not kill someone
,
and you're not even playing
. He'll
never even suspect you're involved with his run of bad luck
.
    She hoped.
    Because for the second time that day and probably only the third or fourth time in her entire adult life, Mallory felt a small quiver of fear pass through her. Her flight instincts were kicking into overdrive and she knew that before this was over, she'd probably have wished a thousand times she'd never come.
    She nodded briefly to Silas as he took a seat in the stool next to her at the end of the table. She stiffened a bit as he chose a position so close to her but quickly realized the advantage that presented. Sometimes close proximity wasn't quite enough to ensure a real run of bad luck. At least this way, Silas was near enough for an accidental brush of the hand or foot. And it would be far less obvious than traipsing around the table, patting grown men on the heads like an adult version of duck-duck-goose.
    She reached down to fiddle with the strap on her shoes, and could feel Silas's gaze on her. She