Ron Hayward called Blake’s bet, just as Blake had known he would. Ron was more of an ass than a poker player, a nice enough guy who didn’t know his own weaknesses. Put Ron on a construction site, and he was gifted. Cole, who worked for Ron, could testify to that. But let the owner of Hayward Construction join them at the poker table, and he stood out in a less impressive way. If there was a bet on the table, Ron played—whether he had a worthy hand or not. It made him a waste.
Luke, the dealer of the hand, dropped his army dog tag on top of his cards, added his two dollars to the pot and raised them two. Blake and Ron followed suit. Luke dealt the turn. An ace of spades.
Blake threw in two more chips. And then, when Luke’s raise came back to him, threw in another four.
Ron had spent twenty dollars before he folded.
“It’s just you and me, buddy,” Luke said with a grin, making a show out of dealing the river, the third in the series of deals per hand.
A two of clubs.
Blake tossed in eight bucks. Luke raised him another four. He pushed out another eight. Luke called his eight and raised him four again.
The pot was over a hundred dollars.
Back when Verne’s sister had been alive, this run-down and lifeless place had been pristine. Both out front, where saloon customers came in droves, and back here in the apartment, where Jake Chandler, Verne’s nephew and the absentee member of the Wild Bunch, had grown up far too quickly.
“You wanna just strip off your shorts and get this over with?” Luke smiled as he raised the bidding one more time.
Blake didn’t strip for anyone. Besides, he was sitting on a full house ace-deuce. The only way Luke was going to beat that was with a miracle. A jack and king of spades facedown in front of him.
Luke was no fool. But the chances of Blake sitting on double aces were slim. Glancing up, Blake looked past his opponent to the bare window behind him. In the daylight they’d be able to see the river. Tonight there was nothing but darkness.
And…movement?
Someone was out there.
Luke bounced his dog tag on the table and grinned as it landed on his closest stack of chips. He’d perfected that move eons ago, before most of the guys had left for college. Blake, having come to the Wild Bunch late, invited by his then-brother-in-law, Cole, when he’d married Cole’s sister, Annie, had been hearing about this particular talent for years.
Blake tipped the corners of his cards again. Glanced beyond the archway leading to a threadbare living room, and saw a woman slip quietly around the corner from the hall.
He tossed in four one-dollar chips. Noting the jack and king of spades Luke flipped over, he tossed in his two aces, still facedown, and leaned over to Cole.
“What in hell’s she doing here?” His whisper sounded far too angry for the question it pretended to be. If Cole needed to see his sister, he knew enough not to do so anywhere near Blake. That was their agreement.
And since Blake was the only one of the bunch who didn’t live in River Bluff, he didn’t think it was asking too much of his best friend to keep that agreement. Cole had plenty of time to see his sister when Blake was safely thirty miles away in San Antonio.
“She needs to talk to you.”
Blake froze at Cole’s response. Then muttered, “She’s here to see me?”
There was razzing going on among the others. Blake was aware of Luke good-naturedly stacking up his win. A sore winner. Verne was sipping straight from an open bottle of whiskey. Harry had found an avid listener in Ron, who seemed to have a need to know every gritty detail about whatever drama Harry was sharing, courtesy of his hairdresser wife.
Blake thought of the Lincoln Continental he had parked outside. Wondering how best to get there.
“Please just hear her out, Blake.” Cole’s voice was still low, but a note of urgency had crept in. “You know I wouldn’t ask you without a good reason.”
Blake did know that.
And he couldn’t imagine a reason good enough to justify another conversation with the woman he’d once loved more than life.
“I think she’s crazy, man.” Cole’s whisper was clipped. “Going to get herself in a mess of trouble. The only thing I could do was get her to talk to you first.”
“You could have given me some warning,” he muttered, buying himself some time to figure a way out of there.
Raising an eyebrow, Cole challenged, “Are you saying you’d have come if I’d warned you?”
It was Blake’s turn to deal—the cards were on the table.
With one last glance at Cole, however, he stood up. “I’m out.”
ANNIE DIDN’T NEED TO witness the exchange between her brother and her ex-husband to know that she was a fool for being there. The expression on Blake’s face when he’d noticed her had been enough.
“Cole didn’t explain?” she asked, as the man she’d spent two years weeping over came barreling out of the back room.
Blake was not pleased. But he smelled as good as ever. It wasn’t just aftershave—though he was wearing the stuff she’d started buying for him when they were first dating—and it wasn’t the shampoo or soap. Both of which she’d used for years. It was just him.
He looked damn good, too. Even with the frown and his tight, straight lips. Annie hadn’t seen him in almost two years—not since the day she’d met him at the airport.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I thought you stopped at eleven. At least Cole said…” Her words trailed off.
She could not respond to this man—not to his anger, and not to his sex appeal. Most particularly not to that.
“We stop when we’re ready.”
His slacks and polo shirt fit his long, lean body to perfection. This was his casual attire. More often, she’d seen him in suits.
Or nothing.
Her lips were dry. “Do you need to get back, then? Cole said you were hosting tonight.”
His gaze rested on her face for a brief second and then moved away. She felt as if she’d been slapped. “That just means that I bring the food and drinks and pick the game.”
“I thought you always played Texas Hold’em.”
He stared at her openly. Even small talk didn’t seem safe with this man.
“There are lots of ways to play,” he said succinctly. “Limit, no limit, tournament…” His voice trailed off, and she knew her time was up.
“You got a minute to talk?”
His eyes narrowed and he studied Annie as if contemplating the aftermath of a particularly bad car accident. You can’t stand what you’re seeing, but you can’t look away, either.
He didn’t answer her. But neither did he walk away, and she knew Blake Smith well enough to know that leaving was something he would do without a second thought, if he felt so inclined.
Laughter burst through the archway.
“Can we go outside?” she asked. Darkness might make this easier.
Still silent, Blake followed her out. She couldn’t hear his footsteps, but she could feel him behind her—staring holes through her back.
If not for promising her brother she’d talk to Blake, she’d be the one eager to disappear. But she’d made up her mind on how to proceed with her life, and she couldn’t do it without Cole’s support.