Death Plays Poker Read Online Free PDF Page A

“I said I’ll help you take down T-Bone Jones. Most newbies would jump at that chance. Hell, most newbies wouldn’t get that chance.”
    “I’m not most newbies.” Clare studied the tips of her pointy pink boots. She wasn’t used to wearing heels with jeans, but there was something cool about it. She liked feeling taller as Tiffany. “I don’t like to owe people favors.”
    Mickey’s eyes relaxed. “Is that all? You can do the favor up front. Then I’ll owe you.”
    Clare thought about this. “What if your advice doesn’t work?”
    Mickey laughed. “Then I’ll coach you for free. Hell, I’ll do that regardless — I like the spirit in you. You following the tour to Vancouver?”
    Clare wished she knew the answer to that. “Probably. I’ll think about your offer.” She started to walk toward the elevator and stopped. “Anyway, what’s the favor you want from me?”
    A grin spread across Mickey’s face. “Promise you won’t get creeped out?”
    “No.”
    “I need a date for tonight.”
    “Creepy.” But Clare stayed where she was.
    “Don’t take it the wrong way. You don’t gotta have sex with me or nothing. I just need a date for this party.”
    “You don’t have one yet?” Clare looked at her watch. “It’s almost nine.”
    “It’s not the kind of thing you normally bring a date to. It’s just . . . okay, my ex-wife is hosting it.”
    “Your ex-wife lives in Niagara Falls?” Clare was surprised.
    “Loni? No. She lives in L.A. She’s hosting the party in the back room of a bar and grill.”
    “Why the back room?”
    “It’s a poker game. Nosebleed stakes. You know how much a casino robs you for, playing for that kind of money?”
    “No.” Clare assumed it must be a lot, or the RCMP wouldn’t have such a liberal budget to ensure that poker stayed safe in the public eye.
    “They rake as much as you can win, if you’re playing half-decent players.” Mickey shook his head with scorn. “I feel like I’m working for the government half the time, and the other half I’m earning for the goombas running the casinos.”
    “I still don’t see why you need a date. If you’re going to gamble all night, what’s my job?”
    “Your job is to cheer me on. Bring me drinks. I’ll buy them — I don’t want you to be out any cash for this — but a sweet girl on my arm will do wonders for my game.”
    “How?”
    “My ex’s new boyfriend is T-Bone Jones.”
    Clare laughed. It sounded a bit like a snort, so she quickly pitched her voice higher and turned it into a Tiffany-style titter. “I should have known your motivation for helping me beat T-Bone wasn’t pure.”
    “No one’s motivation ever is.”
    Mickey shifted his weight from one foot to the next like a kid who had to use the bathroom. “So not only will you beef up my self-esteem — which is more fragile than people think — but if you play it right, T-Bone’s gonna frustrate himself into giving me all his money. Then he’ll hate you even more, and it’s gonna be that much easier for you to get him to lose his cool at the table.”
    Clare wasn’t sure if Mickey’s logic worked, but she had to take him up on his offer. Getting in with Mickey Mills might be just the way to show Cloutier she was the right person for this case.
    “How will a fake date beef up your self-esteem?” Clare didn’t want to seem too eager to accept the invitation.
    “Because my ex-wife is a total fucking cunt — pardon my language — and I would love to see the look on Loni’s face when I walk in with the hottest new broad on the scene.”
    Clare wasn’t used to being thought of as hot — not by so many people in one day. She knew she shouldn’t like the feeling too much — it was only her cover character inspiring the attention — still . . . “Two conditions,” she said.
    Mickey’s eyes widened.
    “No PDA s.”
    “What the fuck’s a PDA ?”
    “No cuddling, no hand-holding. Nothing.”
    “Fine, I wasn’t gonna be all