Page 46 of Mechanic

The bartender arrives next. Immediately after, security shows up with a fresh deck of cards and racks of chips.

Each player has a required buy-in of one hundred thousand dollars. From the corner of my eye, I watch Antonia verify the chip count with security and then sign off on the count. My attention is diverted as the players start to arrive.

Antonia greets each guest, collecting their cash, counting it, and then passing it on to the security guard before presenting them with their tray of chips.

The men start taking their seats around the table. Antonia is flirtatious but not inappropriate. Her behavior, however, has my jealousy spiking. Those soft smiles and easy banter belong to me.

Moving to the bar, I push my empty glass across the marble surface. Angling my chair to watch the game. My focus is glued to the girl who has a tight grip on my heart.

Chapter 26

Antonia

Attempting to steady my shaking hands, I shuffle the deck, focusing on the cards moving effortlessly through my hands.

How did I not catch on that Rod is short for Roderick? Or better yet, why didn’t I ask more questions about Rod and what he does for a living?

I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly to center myself and focus on my job. Keeping a smile on my face as the players start to take their seats around the table. I do a few more card tricks as the last player takes his seat.

“Alright, gentlemen,” I say brightly, preparing to give a few instructions for the evening as if none of these men have played the game before,

“Welcome to the Wildfire Casino. My name is Antonia and I will be your dealer for the evening. Tonight’s game is Texas Hold ’em Poker.

“First round of betting takes place after the hold cards are dealt. Second round is after the flop, with the third round coming after the turn card. Final bets will take place before the river card.

“Best hand wins the pot. Good luck, gentlemen,” I say as each of the men toss in their ante to get the game started.

The night progresses smoothly. The conversation consists of some good-natured ribbing over a few minor losses. My focus on the game helps the rest of the room fade away. Roderick, the bartender, and other staff all fade into the background.

How much time passes is hard to say, but the arrival of security indicates our break. Finishing up the current hand, I collect all of the cards, setting them aside.

The waitress brings me a bottle of water and a small plate of food as I sit off to the side and eat my snack. Each of the players move about the room, getting their own snacks and drinks from the bar.

Several times, my gaze locks with Roderick’s, and my heart clenches. Tears well in my eyes as my thoughts drive over our time together. Forcing the memories away and refusing to let the tears fall, I steel my spine.

Using the restroom and then returning to the table, I open the fresh deck of cards. Shuffling them, the familiarity of the movement brings memories of my father rushing back.

Living in Las Vegas, he had a magic show that he performed at the Golden Nugget downtown. As a little girl, Daddy entertained me for hours with his card tricks. When I got older, he taught me his card tricks. Over the years, anytime I missed my parents, I would pull out a deck of cards and practice the slight of hand moves he taught me.

Movement around me brings my attention back to the ongoing game.

Pasting a smile on my face, the game begins again.

Pounding on my door has me sitting up in bed. Looking around the room for some type of weapon, my shoulders sag when a familiar timbre of Roderick’s voice reaches my ears.

Tossing the blankets off, I stomp to the door, yanking it open in anger.

“What do you want?” I bark out.

Roderick pushes past me.

“By all means,please, come in,” I snark at him.

He heads to the kitchen saying nothing in response to my question.

Slamming the door closed, I trail behind him. Crossing my arms as I lean against the wall, I mentally burn a hole through the back of his head. Roderick ignores me as he goes about making coffee. Once he has the pot started, Roderick moves to the refrigerator, pulling out eggs and bacon.

“Why are you here?” I ask.

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