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barely succeeded.
    "I guess not."
    "Damn it to hell!" Mallory ranted, and the other women in the lobby stared at them. Before she caused a scene in front of witnesses, she pointed to the exit, giving Amy no choice but to head outside. "My uncle has lined up a bunch of criminals, heavy hitters, for this tournament," she continued once the doors slid shut behind them. "He's up to something and it can't possibly be pleasant. You have absolutely no business getting in the middle of it."
    Amy's eyes widened. "Oh, my God."
    "You have to back out," Mallory said, and yanked her cell phone from her pocket. "Either you call or I will. Pretend you never showed up and get the heck out of here. There's no way I'm letting you back on that floating prison block."
    The expression on Amy's face went from frightened to pure misery in under a second. "I can't back out. I used my tuition money to buy in as a dealer. If I don't make it back, I can't graduate."
    Mallory groaned. "How can someone as smart as you constantly do things as stupid as this? It's like you manage to find the one thing you should never be involved in and you're the first in line to sign up."
    "I'm a math genius, Mallory. I guess that doesn't translate to street smarts, so I'm sorry to have offended your redneck rules of play for criminal activity. This wasn't exactly something my instructors covered in finishing school."
    "They didn't cover it because you were supposed to be married off at twenty to some rich doctor or lawyer or politician and spend the rest of your life folding napkins into swans like your parents intended."
    "My parents don't have a clue what's important to me and never have. And don't tell me I should have fallen into their plans. You, with a master's in engineering, and you only use it to tear things up."
    Mallory opened her mouth to protest but Amy held one hand up to stop her.
    "Let me finish," Amy said, and pointed at Mallory. "You've spent your entire life making your own way exactly how you wanted to and that's why I admire you so much. I'm not going to believe for a moment that you think I should give up my dreams and marry some short, fat, balding man twice my age just to have a 'good life' and please my parents."
    Mallory shoved her hands in her jeans' pockets and studied the dark wood floor planks for a moment before raising her gaze back to her friend. "I didn't say you should follow your parents' way, Amy, but c'mon, poker at my uncle's casino? Isn't there another way to prove your genius besides pissing off men who probably won't deal with things by quitting and having a beer?"
    Amy waved her hands in frustration. "You think I haven't already tried? I can't make it through two or three hands at a casino table before everyone leaves. One of the dealers in New Orleans said men generally don't like to play with a woman."
    "Probably not," Mallory conceded. "Especially if the woman looks like she's twelve and is whipping their butts at cards."
    Amy grinned. "They're all going to be very sorry when I'm running the country one day."
    Mallory stared at Amy in surprise. "What the heck are you talking about? You thinking about running for president?"
    "Please, the president doesn't run the country, his economic advisor does. He who controls the money has the power."
    Mallory laughed. "You want to be Alan Greenspan, Jr.?

Good God, Amy, it would probably be easier to be elected president."
    "Exactly. Which is why this tournament is not an option. I have to finish my thesis by the end of next semester or I can't apply for PhD candidacy. And that will be a little hard to do without the money to pay for school." Amy shot her one final belligerent look, then shrugged. "Besides, I hate swans. And napkins."
    Mallory was unable to stop the smile that quivered on her lips even though her world had just gotten even more complicated than she'd ever thought it could. "Fine, so you'll deal at the Criminal Poker Tournament of the decade." She stood up straight and