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“Where you going, doll?” Tony asks me. “The night is young.”
The whole table quiets and the dealer waits for Tony’s signal before starting his next deal.
“I don’t want to push my luck,” I say, grinning.
“Is that so?” He flips a chip between his fingers. “What did you say your last name is, Gia?”
“I didn’t, but it’s Ford.”
“Ford.” Tony’s brow furrows. “I know that name.”
“My father was Frank Ford.”
“Ah!” He sits back in his seat and smacks the table with his palm. “You’re Frankie Ford’s girl?”
“Yes.” I put the strap of my bag over my shoulder and say, “Thanks for the game.”
“So that’s where you learned the game,” Tony says, getting up from the table and following me.
Inwardly, I cringe. Outwardly, I paste on a fake thousand-watt smile.
“That’s right,” I say.
“Why the sloppy play for the past hour, Gia?” Tony asks me, putting an arm around my shoulders. “You know better than that.”
Goose bumps pop up on my arms as I pass my chips to a woman set up at a table in the corner.
“Cashing out?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“Not yet,” Tony says, and the woman’s hands freeze in place as she looks from him to me.
Shit. I should have listened to Jerry and found a way out of playing at the same table as Tony Russo.
“I don’t feel well. I’m cashing out,” I say firmly.
Slowly, her eyes on Tony, the woman passes me the money I’m owed.
“There you are, babe.”
I turn to see Maverick approaching, and relief floods through my entire body.
“Who’s this?” Tony demands.
“This is—”
“Her boyfriend,” Maverick cuts in, offering his hand in a handshake. “Maverick Hagen.”
“How did you get in here?” Tony asks.
“There was a very nice guy at the door. Jackson. He let me in.”
“Are you on the list?”
Maverick shrugs and puts an arm around me. “Come on, babe, my security team has shift change soon and we need to get the guys home.”
Tony shoots a murderous gaze around the room, taking his sunglasses off. “Get Jackson and Steve in here,” he says to someone. “Right now.”
A burly bald man comes into the room and says, “Hey, boss.”
“Good to meet you,” Maverick says, leading me toward the door. “Hope to see you again soon.” He waves at the bald guy. “Hit me up after the game, Jackson.”
Looking sheepish, the man says, “Sure thing, man.”
Tony hisses something at Jackson in a low tone and Jackson says, “Sorry, boss, but I love hockey. I searched him for weapons. He just wanted to pick up his girlfriend.”
Maverick quickly walks us out of the house, and once out front, we break into a jog.
“What the hell was that?” he asks me as we approach his Range Rover. He unlocks it with a button on his key fob.
“Let’s get in the car first.”
Once we’re inside and the doors are locked, Maverick starts the car and drives away from the house. I feel like I can finally breathe again.
“How did you get in there?” I ask him.
“Gave Jackson a couple front row seats to the next game against Nashville. That’s his team.”
I exhale hard and say, “Thanks.”
“What was going on in there, Gia?”
“A private poker game.”
“Why was the guy in sunglasses so pissed at you?”
I shrug, pretending I’m indifferent while actually feeling like a fool for getting myself into that situation. All I see are dollar signs at these private games, and tonight I wasn’t smart.
“I won too much.”
Maverick sighs heavily. “Why aren’t you playing in a poker room on the Strip, where they have cameras and security?”
“Look, I can take care of myself,” I say sharply. “Yes, I needed help tonight and I appreciate you coming. But don’t lecture me, okay?”
“I don’t mean to lecture, but you scared the shit out of me.”
“I’m sorry. Everything’s fine now.” I reach over and put a hand on his knee. “Thank you.”
He looks down at my hand, and then over at me. “You’re welcome.”
As soon as we get back to the house, Maverick tosses his car keys on the kitchen counter and I walk over to the refrigerator to get some water.
After I thanked him, we drove home in silence, tension thick between us. And now, I don’t know what to say. I stand at the kitchen island with my back to Maverick, sipping my water. The kitchen is dark except for the moonlight shining through the windows.
I hear him approaching, and I wonder if he’s going to walk up to his bedroom without saying anything else. Instead, I hear his heavy exhale as he gets closer, and then he wraps his arms around me from behind, his chest warm and hard against my back.
Everything about him feels big and strong and safe, but there’s an edge of excitement to being in his arms. I reach up and put my hands on his forearms, closing my eyes.
“You okay?” he asks, his lips grazing my ear.
