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stared down at her friend, pointing one finger at her. "But you
will
be careful--painfully so--and you will not incite any anger whatsoever in these men."
    Amy relaxed visibly as she realized Mallory wasn't going to push the issue beyond a butt-chewing, at least until the tournament was over. "You really ought to be nicer to me, you know."
    "Oh, really? And why would I want to do something like that?"
    Amy grinned. "Because if I wanted, I could be your aunt. Reginald proposed to me after I took him at cards."
    Mallory smiled. "Probably a sure thing compared to that whole Alan Greenspan plan. Let's face it--with the company he keeps, sooner or later someone is going to pop dear Uncle Reginald. And you could inherit all this." She waved a hand at the dilapidated casino.
    "Yuck," Amy said. "Even if your uncle was like, the Robert Redford of Royal Flush, do you really think I'd give it a moment's thought after that whole midget thing?"
    Mallory stared at her friend. "Am I the only person who doesn't know about the midget?"
    Amy laughed. "Probably, but if you Google--"
    "I don't even want to know. You're already in this neck-deep. Don't make me change my mind by giving me the gory details of what a perv my uncle is."
    "You're one to talk," Amy shot back. "You stand here telling me to walk on eggshells but since I know you're not here for a demolition that can only mean you're working, too."
    Mallory frowned and shook her head. "It's not the same for me."
    "Why not?"
    "I know how to manipulate criminals. I was raised by them."

----
Chapter Three

     
    Since her run-in with Amy had set her a bit behind schedule, Mallory hurried into the ladies' room and changed her outfit with lightning speed. Fortunately, Reginald hadn't been overly picky about the dress code--any combination of black and something else would do as long as it was thin, clingy and short.
    She still had a black spandex micromini from her prior cooling days, and the skirt coupled with a thin lacy tank top and short cropped black jacket did quite nicely. Add to that the reinforced stilettos from the bar and she was ready for action.
    In the looks department anyway.
    She did a quick study of herself in the full-length mirror of the bathroom, then grabbed her long black hair and twisted it into a knot on top of her head. Turning from side to side, she viewed the effect and decided she was satisfied. She could always pull the pin out and let her hair down later if a bit of distraction was needed for the players. In the meantime, she enjoyed the cooler air on her with the thick mass lifted. The early morning humidity was already taking its toll on her skin.
    She stuffed her jeans and T-shirt along with her makeup bag into the duffel bag. But as she lifted the bag from the bathroom counter, the strap broke completely off one side and everything dumped onto the floor.
    Cursing both the handle and the zipper, which had stripped this morning as she was packing, she retrieved her items and tossed them into an open locker along with the semidestroyed bag. She took one final look in the mirror--dusted some face powder off her shoulders and straightened her skirt hem--then slammed the locker door shut and strode out into the lobby, ready to take on the world.
    Or Reginald St. Claire.
    Her uncle stood just outside the ladies' room and in her rush to make it to the casino, she'd almost run into the cigar he was never without.
    "About time you got out here," he said, frowning. "I need a word with you before we begin. Wanted to make sure we're clear on your payment terms."
    Here we go
. Mallory fixed her uncle with a hard stare. "I don't believe I stuttered one bit when we talked. I shut down the table, you pay me ten grand. I don't shut down the table, you pay the same as the other attendants." It wasn't the greatest deal in the world. In fact, it pretty much sucked. But according to Reginald, it was the best he could offer, and Mallory got the feeling that he was telling the