But there were eight guards in the room, one at each corner and others at the door.
So, that approach was out.
The game began, moving swiftly at first. Anton was nearly silent, his gaze darting between the different players with the coldness of a snake’s. When it landed on me, I had to suppress a shiver.
Surprisingly, the first person to leave the table was the terrifying man with the gray skin and black eyes. He hadn’t said a single word the entire game—every signal he’d given to the dealer had either been a hiss or a tap on the table.
Finally, he lost spectacularly, and that was that.
Anton grinned with satisfaction when the man rose and slunk away toward the door, clearly pleased to have beaten him. So far, the mob boss was the best player at the table, though the rest were holding their own.
The woman in pink watched the cards avidly, her interest keen and her excitement high. Atticus, on the other hand, seemed bored. Almost as if he weren’t here for poker at all and was just phoning it in with his bets. I shot him a glance out of the corner of my eye, and he grinned, almost as if he could read my curiosity.
Across the table, Grey looked between me and Atticus, his shoulders tense. Was he jealous?
We’re not supposed to care about each other! I wanted to shout at him.
I merely looked away, catching the eye of the woman’s little poodle. The creature glared at me, its eyes on my cards. I scowled back and tilted them in so the little cheat couldn’t see them. Despite the fact that I could feel the magic-suppressing charm that surrounded the table, I wouldn’t be surprised if he could telepathically convey to his owner what my hand looked like.
One hand in particular was so close, the betting so intense, that I nearly lost my spot at the table. Everyone else except for Atticus had folded, and the charming bastard was about to drive me away.
I could win this if I just had the slightest idea about his cards.
Now or never.
If I was going to use the charm that Grey had given me, this was the time. Carefully, I slipped my hand under the table and pulled the little charm out of the top of my stockings. Tension pulled my skin tight.
Please don’t see me.
Grey coughed and nearly spilled his drink, and I wanted to shoot him a thankful glance. No question—he was trying to draw eyes away from me. Grey was so controlled and so smooth that he would never spill his drink.
Skin cold with nerves, I pressed the charm to the bottom of the table. Immediately, I could feel the suppression magic around myself deaden.
Casually, I pressed my knee against Atticus’s under the table. Immediately, images flowed into my mind, bombarding me.
Atticus, bribing a guard. Then him sneaking around the back hallways of the casino, looking for something. Interesting.
I tried to direct my power toward his cards, wanting to get an idea of what he held. Or at least, whether he was bluffing.
Bluff.
The knowledge blasted into me. I couldn’t see his cards, but the man was definitely bluffing.
“Well?” The dealer leaned toward me, his brows raised in question. “Fold or raise?”
I looked at Atticus, my lips pursed in thought. His gaze met mine, and the corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile. “Well?”
“Raise. One hundred and fifty thousand.” My voice wanted to tremble when I said the words, but I suppressed it.
Atticus grinned knowingly and laid his cards face down on the table. “Fold.”
I smiled and swept my winnings toward me, unable to believe that so much money was represented by little bits of plastic.
Next to me, the poodle growled low in its throat.
Shit.
I looked down at it, catching the menace in its eyes. The little bastard was onto me.
The old woman frowned at me, her pink lipstick matching her dress to perfection. She was about to accuse me—I could just feel it—when Cordelia appeared beneath the table.
I nearly jerked, surprised to spot the raccoon on the floor. My little sidekick reached up and grabbed the poodle’s tail underneath the table.
Say anything, and I’ll make you into my dinner. I do so love Poodle Fricassee. The threat in her voice was obvious, and the poodle stopped growling.
The woman, who hadn’t noticed Cordelia, looked down when she realized that her dog had quieted.
“You’re sure?” she asked the poodle.
The little dog glanced under the table at Cordelia, fear in its eyes. It nodded, and the older woman shot me a glare, then shrugged. “False alarm.”
Cordelia disappeared, and the poodle relaxed. It still kept its gaze on me, but it didn’t look like it was going to rat me out anytime soon.
“Madame Feriama’s poodle is an excellent detector of cheats,” Anton said smoothly.
My skin chilled, and I nearly fell out of my chair. Instead, I just barely managed to raise my eyebrows in a calm expression of interest. “You don’t say?”
“Indeed.” Anton watched me with interest.
“Next hand.” Atticus grinned widely. “Let’s not dawdle, I’m getting no younger.”
I glanced at him, surprised. He clearly had my back, trying to get Anton’s attention off me. His gaze flicked between the table and me.
He knows what I’ve done.
I smiled brilliantly, hoping it would throw him off. He huffed a small laugh, then turned toward the dealer as the cards were passed out.
The game continued uneventfully—or as uneventfully as it could when so much money was on the table. The woman and her poodle bowed out, and then it was just me, Grey, Anton, and Atticus.
Unfortunately, Atticus didn’t seem like he was going to throw in the towel any time soon. The stakes just kept getting higher and the hour later, my concern for the kidnapping victims only growing.
Anton won another hand, then Atticus. Anton turned to one of the guards, his attention diverted from the table as he ordered another drink.
I glanced at the thief next to me, then gambled. I leaned close and murmured, “Don’t you have some back hallways to sneak through?”
His brows rose slightly, and a tiny smile quirked the corner of his mouth. “Insightful, aren’t you?”
“Yes. And I’ll keep him occupied while you go and get about your business.”
“You’re not here for poker, are you?” His words were so soft and quiet against my ear that no one could hear them.
His posture, however, was another matter altogether. He was leaning close to me, his big shoulders curved inward like he was protecting me and his mouth close to my ear. It was a bullhorn that shouted We’re flirting.
It was good cover and a smart move, despite the frown lines that cut deeply around Grey’s mouth. Better for Anton to think we were flirting than conspiring against him.
And I wasn’t supposed to be with Grey anyway.
“I’m not,” I murmured back to Atticus. “And neither are you. So, go do your business while we do ours.”
“Ours?” His gaze flicked to Grey, and he nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Several hands later, after winning a sum of money that would buy me a nice flat in London, Atticus departed the table with a wave.
I caught Grey’s eye.
It was time.
7
Grey
I watched Atticus rise and leave the table, something loosening inside me to see him putting distance between himself and Carrow.