Page 44 of Dirty Pool

Gabbie nodded, happy that he knew the rules of the game. “I’ll break, then.”

“Let’s see what you can do, donna.”

That was fine by her.

She rounded the table, hyperaware of just how close Michel was standing to her side as she leaned over the edge with her pool cue ready. “Have you heard what’s happening out there on the streets lately?”

“I’m purposely staying out of it.”

Gabbie took the shot, and once the balls broke, scattering across the table, she watched as a striped ball fell into the far-left pocket. “Stripes for me. And on the other thing … do you think that’s smart to just close your eyes and pretend like they might not come for you, too?”

Michel cleared his throat, but didn’t answer. Gabbie was fine with that. She hadn’t exactly been expecting a response in the first place. Rounding the table, she eyed the balls and the possible shots she could take. Her next three sunk the balls in each pocket she called. Unfortunately, that left her without a shot that was safe. And by that, it meant the eight ball was in the way for every feckin’ shot.

Damn.

She took what she would consider a fake shot … something that would switch the table to Michel, but that was a risk, too. If he was as good as she assumed, given she watched him play for a bit with the other man before approaching the table, then he could very well take her for a ride in a few shots.

She liked risks, though.

That’s why she was here.

Michel whistled when the shot she took missed entirely. “You had a good run there.”

“You think?”

Gabbie passed him a sly grin.

Michel winked right back. “My turn, though.”

“Go for it, pretty boy.”

“That’s offensive.”

Michel leaned over the table.

She stared at his arse again.

“Yeah, you’re right,” she replied, “all I see is a very good-looking lad with a cock he knows how to use.”

As she said that, Michel took his shot and missed entirely. She’d done that purposely just to see if it might work. A bit of a cheap shot, sure, but Gabbie couldn’t help it. She might blame it on her raising any other day, but the truth was simpler …

She liked to win.

What she wanted, she got.

Easy.

“That was dirty fucking pool,” he said, laughing as he stood up from his crappy shot. His dark eyes met hers, and she swore despite his annoyance at her trick, she still saw appreciation shining back in his gaze. And lust, too. Just like that, her body was entirely too hot and the last thing she wanted to focus on was a game of pool. “You won’t get that one over on me a second time—I promise it.”

Gabbie wet her lips, whispering, “Shame, then. I was just getting started.”

“Good to know.” Michel’s jaw tightened, and she didn’t miss the way he looked her up and down as he rounded the table to put just a wee bit of distance between the two of them. “Take your shot, bella.”

She surveyed the table as she walked from one end to the other, deciding which plan of action she wanted to take to—hopefully—sink as many balls as she could, and perhaps even win the game. All the while, she talked.

“There’s been fights,” she said to Michel, “where there used to be peace. Places where my father’s men could work without the Italians stepping in, or vice versa … now it’s all up in the air. Someone tried to set a warehouse on fire last Wednesday, too.”

Michel made a noise under his breath. “Irish or Italian warehouse?”