Dead Man's Hand (Vegas Underground 7)

The episode ends and Mia hits pause before the next episode begins. “Do you want to play a game?”

“Hell, yes— I mean, heck yes I want to play a game, little lady. What games do you have? Do you play cards?”

“Yes!” She gets up and limps down the hall and returns with a deck of cards. “What do you want to play?”

I pin her with a mock serious look. “Do you play poker?”

She giggles. “No.”

“Wanna learn?” I reach in my pocket and pull out my wad of cash. “It involves betting and money. You have a chance to win big, sweetheart.”

Yeah, I’m never above a bribe. Especially when it involves a child. Money, sweets or forbidden activities will always win their affection.

I count out five ten-dollar bills and hold them out to her. Her eyes get wide and she reaches for them, then stops herself mid-air and shoots a guilty glance down the hall.

Shit. Has this child been poisoned against me, too?

“It’s all right. You can take it.” I continue to hold the money out.

She takes it because—of course—she wants to.

I count myself out another fifty in tens and lay them in front of me. “We don’t have poker chips, so we’ll just play for the bills here.”

“Marissa, angel,” I call to the kitchen. “Come and play poker with us.”

She rounds the corner with a plate filled with apple slices and peanut butter and raisins. “I don’t know how to play poker.”

“Mmm.” I reach for an apple slice and dip it in the peanut butter. “Are these for me?” I take the plate and make a show of offering it to Mia and then pulling it back when she reaches for it a couple times before I set it down in front of her. “Mia doesn’t know how either, so I’ll teach you both. I have to get you prepped for when I take you to Vegas.”

Marissa shoots me a surprised look but her cheeks color like she’s excited by that declaration. Good. She wants to go.

I give Marissa a starting pot of fifty bucks, too and explain the rules of the game, laying out examples of winning hands. “This is a full house. This is two of a kind. This is—”

“Wait, wait, wait. I need a notepad to write these down. I don’t think I’ll remember.”

“I don’t need a notepad,” Mia declares.

“You think you have it already?” I ask her with a broad smile.

“Yes.”

“Good. Let’s show Marissa how it goes. For the first few hands we’ll play without money and cards face up as practice. Then we’ll let the money fly.” I waggle my brows and Mia smiles happily at her stack of money.

“If I win, do I get to keep the money?”

“Oh yeah. Definitely. That’s what makes it fun.”

“Even though it was your money to start with?”

“It’s your money now. Yours to lose.”

She grabs the money and stuffs it in a pretend pocket. “Forget it, I’m not playing,” she says.

I laugh—a big, belly laugh that surprises me. I don’t know when I’ve laughed like that before, but humor on an eight-year-old took me by surprise.

Marissa laughs, too, her eyes soft on me.

I fucking love that look. I want to win it every. Fucking. Time.

We play five or six rounds with cards up until I’m sure they both are getting the hang of it and then I teach them how to bet.

Marissa is conservative with her money, but Mia goes right at it, throwing the bills in and holding her cards up close to her face.

She wins the first hand and gets so excited she jumps up and down and then gasps in pain and hobbles back to the couch.

“You okay, baby?” Marissa runs around to help her, even though she’s already sitting. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“I always forget about my bad hip,” Mia says to me with a wry smile. “And then I hurt it again.”

“Well, I hope you’re getting as much mileage out of this situation as you can,” I tell her. “You know, making them bring you chocolate cakes and all that.”

She giggles.

“My ma had a hip replacement surgery last year and she was the most demanding patient ever. We ran through a whole bunch of nurses before my brother finally hired one who stood up to her and didn’t let her push her around.”

“Was that Desiree?” Marissa asks.

I shoot her a smile. “It sure was. That’s how Junior met her. And then she was a nurse for me when I had an accident,” I say to Mia.

“Accident, yes,” Marissa says, her gaze dropping to my scar, the flicker of trauma apparent before she hides it.

“Come on, let’s play another hand,” I say. “Let’s see if we can take some money back from the little card shark over here.”

Mia cackles with joy as she settles back and pops an apple slice in her mouth.