Dempsey nodded again. “Friendly game. No money involved.”
Deirdre cleared her throat. “Actually, we were just changing the game, Chief. Four hands of poker is enough for me.”
Tom stared at her.
What the hell?
She shuffled the cards briskly. “Fan Tan, gentlemen.”
Dempsey stared at her. “Huh?”
“You mean sevens? You want to play seven-up?” Tom frowned.
She nodded. “Right. Only in this version, you throw in a chip every time you can’t play a card. And I’m dealing myself in because you can’t play with only two people.” She glanced up at Toleffson. “Want to play, Chief?”
Toleffson shook his head slowly. His lips moved into a faint grin. “I’ll just watch. How does it work?”
“Very simple.” Deirdre ruffled the cards. “Deal out all the cards and then you play in order. Sevens go down first, with sixes on one side and eights on the other. Play up on the eights and down on the sixes. If you have a card that plays, you have to play it, but other than that, you choose the order to play your cards in. If you can’t play a card, you pass and throw in a chip. First one to play all their cards wins.”
“Sevens?” Dempsey sounded outraged. “Jesus, that’s a kid game.”
“Dealer’s choice.” She smiled at him sweetly. “Would you like me to explain the rules in more detail?”
“I don’t need to hear the rules,” Dempsey snarled. “I know the freakin’ rules. You sure you don’t want to play Old Maid?”
She shook her head. “Seven-up is fine.” She dealt quickly, throwing the last card to Dempsey. “And by the way, this game counts.”
Tom stared at her, dumbstruck. So did Dempsey. Deirdre smiled at them both, then picked up her hand.
“Like hell,” Dempsey blurted.
She turned toward him, raising an eyebrow.
“Is there a problem Mr.…Dorsey?” Toleffson’s voice rumbled from behind them.
Dempsey paled slightly, licking his lips. “No. No problem.” He arranged his cards in his hand.
“You start, Cr…Cary.” Deirdre gave him a smile that could have caused sugar shock.
Dempsey stared at his hand for a long moment, then threw down the seven of hearts. Tom added the seven of diamonds.
Deirdre gave them all another saccharine smile. “Oh good, we’re all being nice.” She placed her seven of spades in the row above Tom’s card.
Dempsey stared at his hand again. “Shit,” he muttered and played the eight of diamonds.
Tom dropped the six of spades.
Deirdre glanced at him, her eyes dancing, then played the six of diamonds. “You are naughty,” she murmured. “You’re holding that last seven, aren’t you?”
Dempsey stared at him for a long moment, then threw the nine of diamonds on the eight. For the first time since they’d sat down at the card table that night, Tom’s shoulders began to loosen up.
Judging from the muttered obscenities from Dempsey’s side of the table, he didn’t have much of a hand. Tom, on the other hand, had a very good one. Amazingly good, in fact. Only one ace and no kings, several short runs, and a seven protected by a six and a nine. He used the seven to squeeze out most of the cards he needed to fill out the runs, while Dempsey fumed and occasionally passed.
Deirdre’s hand wasn’t bad either, judging from the fact that she passed less than Dempsey did.
Tom’s ace was the sticker, as he’d guessed it might be. He played all his other cards, then sat holding his ace, watching the number of cards in Dempsey’s hand diminish, while Dempsey’s shit-eating grin returned.
Tom glanced at Deirdre, and did a double-take. She had only two cards left to Dempsey’s five and his one. Tom narrowed his eyes as Dempsey muttered again and threw out a chip. He’d be willing to bet one of her cards was the other missing ace. If she had that and the two of clubs, she’d win since she played before he did. All she had to do was play her ace, then she could get rid of the two before Tom could play his own ace.
And then they’d have to play another hand of poker, once Toleffson left. Good thing he was used to staying up until two.
Deirdre glanced at him, and then back to her cards. And then she played the two of clubs.
Tom stared at her, half-tempted to call her on it. Once upon a time, he would have refused to be helped. Once upon a time, he’d have insisted on doing everything on his own. His bar, his problems, all his.
Once upon a time, he’d been an idiot.
Dempsey snarled and flipped the jack of spades.
Tom flipped his ace of clubs on the table, and leaned back in his chair. “I’m out.”
Dempsey stared at him blankly, then threw his remaining cards on the table. “This is bullshit! You hear me? Total bullshit!”
Tom shrugged. “You lost the game Dem…Dorsey. That’s the way it goes.”
Dempsey pointed at Deirdre. “She cheated.”
“No I didn’t.” Deirdre smiled. “I made a choice. One of several. This one happened to work out.”
“Goddamn it,” Dempsey began.
“Could I see some ID, Mr. Dorsey?” Toleffson’s voice was quiet, but it brought Dempsey to an immediate halt.
“Why?” he asked warily.
“You’re making a bit of a disturbance here. Plus I like to know who’s passing through my town. Just routine. You do have, ID, don’t you Dorsey?” Toleffson stood up. He was taller than Dempsey by several inches, although Dempsey looked like he had him on weight.
“I…it’s in the glove compartment in my car. I’ll go get it.” Dempsey started for the door, but Deirdre stepped into his path.
“Not quite yet, Cary. You were going to sign a statement for me, remember?”
Toleffson folded his arms across his chest. “What statement would that be?”
“Oh, it turns out Cary here has some information about the riot that broke up the Faro. He’s going to sign a statement about it that we can give to the TABC at the licensure hearing. Actually, this is a great coincidence, Chief. You can witness his signature.”
She ducked behind the bar and emerged with a printed sheet. “Here, you go, Cary. Just put your signature at the bottom. Your real signature, that is.” Her jaw squared as she looked at him.
Dempsey swallowed hard, then glanced at Toleffson. “I sign this, and you’ll let me go out to my car to…ah…get my ID?”
Toleffson glanced from Deirdre to Dempsey, and then to Tom. “You have any opinion here, Ames?”
Tom smiled. “I think ol’ Cary’s statement would be a good thing to have. And I’m damn sure Deirdre wrote it out just right for the TABC. She’s a very good businesswoman.”
Toleffson’s mouth narrowed to a thin line as he looked back and forth between them. Then he shrugged. “Read it and sign, Dempsey. Then you can get out of here.”
Craig grabbed the pen from Deirdre’s hand and scrawled his signature at the bottom of the page. For a moment, his gaze locked with hers. “I know you cheated,” he growled. “I didn’t lose.”
She sighed. “Whatever. Have a safe trip back to Houston.”
Dempsey gave her one more burning look, then stalked out the door.
Deirdre shook her head. “You’d think he’d have learned by now not to sign anything without reading it first. Sort of fits with his other business decisions, though. Now if you could just sign here as a witness, Chief.” She pointed to the bottom of the page.
Toleffson sighed, pulling out a ballpoint. “Do you know for a fact he won’t be back here to break up the place again?”
“Let’s say I’m ninety-nine percent sure he won’t. Of course, with somebody like Craig you can never be entirely sure. Still, given that you’re likely to arrest him if he shows up again, I’m guessing not.” She looked up at Toleffson from beneath her lashes. “You
are
likely to arrest him if he shows up again, aren’t you?”
“Oh yes, ma’am, I’m more than likely.” Toleffson signed, then replaced his Stetson carefully on his head. “In fact, if he delays at all in getting his ass out of town tonight, I might reconsider and throw him in the slammer right now, just on general principles.”
Deirdre gave him a sunny smile. “I’m sure he’s aware of that, Chief. Nice doing business with you.”
Toleffson grinned back. “Yes, ma’am. You take care now.”
Tom watched him walk out the front door. A few moments later, he heard someone whistling “The Eyes of Texas Are Upon You” as he walked down the street.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Deirdre went back with Tom to his place once they’d closed down the Faro again. By now, she had a couple of T-shirts, a pair of jeans, and some underwear tucked into his bureau. She figured eventually Tom might develop the
cojones
to ask her to move in. Or she’d ask him to move in with her, although that made less sense since she was living in Docia’s apartment with no furniture and Tom had his own house. But she knew they’d do one or the other. She was fairly sure she was in love with him. She just had to wait for him to wake up to the fact that he loved her.
Not that he looked very awake right then, just tired.
Deirdre yawned, rubbing a hand across the back of her neck as they walked up the steps to his front door. “Well, that was interesting.”
He nodded, turning the key in the lock. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“We should probably get some sleep.” She followed him through the living room. “We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.”
“Got that right.” He stepped into the dining room and froze in the doorway. She heard his quick intake of breath.
“What?” she said, moving beside him.
Craig Dempsey sat in one of the dining room chairs. A bottle of tequila was open on the table in front of him. He was holding a large black handgun pointed at the center of Tom’s chest.
Tom took hold of her arm, jerking her behind him. “What do you want, Dempsey?”
“We’re gonna play that last hand,” Craig snarled. “No way am I losing to you, shithead. And no way is this settled. Seven-up. Jesus.”
“Okay, we’ll play. Let Deirdre go.”
Dempsey shook his head. “And have her head straight for that chief of police? I don’t think so. Besides, she’s gonna be the dealer. I’m not trusting you.”
Tom started to object again. Behind him, Deirdre squeezed his hand. She wasn’t going anywhere anyway.
“Okay,” he said. “If we’re playing, let’s go into the living room. The light’s better.” He moved slowly back into the other room, keeping Deirdre behind him.
Craig lurched to his feet, grabbing the neck of the tequila bottle in his other hand. Judging from the way he was walking, he’d already had more than a few samples. But he still held the gun steady, and it still pointed straight at Tom.
“How are you going to hold your cards, Dempsey?” Tom drawled. “In your teeth?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Craig snapped. He motioned toward the couch with the gun. “Siddown.” He placed the tequila bottle on the coffee table, then narrowed his eyes at Deirdre. “Go get some cards. And no funny stuff or your boyfriend buys the farm.”
Deirdre decided he’d probably been watching too much Spike TV. She went to Tom’s bookcase.
“Top shelf,” he called after her. “On the left.”
She found the deck of cards and brought them back, regarding Craig with narrowed eyes. He was still looming at the side of the table. “Are you going to sit down? Or do I have to toss you the cards?”
Craig thumped down into a chair across from her, his gun jumping slightly. Deirdre swallowed. Guns and drunken idiots were never a good combination.
“Just out of curiosity, how did you get in here, Dempsey?” Tom asked.
“You ought to lock your windows, Ames.” Craig’s lips spread in another insolent grin. Obviously, he was pleased with himself. “Course if you had, I’d have had to break it, so I guess you had no way of winning here.”
“And the gun?” She raised an eyebrow. “I never knew you were a gun nut, Craig.”
“I got a permit,” he snarled. “I’m legal.”
Also shit-faced, she figured. She ruffled the cards, then set them in front of Craig. “Cut.”
Craig shook his head, nudging the gun in Tom’s direction. “Let him.” He leaned back in his chair, dangling the hand that wasn’t holding the gun off the armrest.
Deirdre slid the cards in Tom’s direction. He divided them neatly in half and passed them back across the table to her.
“How exactly are you going to take me back to Houston if you win?” Deirdre kept her voice casual. “Because you know I won’t come willingly. You’re forcing me to play at gunpoint, after all. Do you think this is what my father wanted?”
Craig narrowed his eyes. “Told me to use my judgment. This is my judgment.”
Got that right.
Her hands stilled. “So he didn’t actually tell you to break up the Faro?” she said slowly.
“Used my judgment,” Craig repeated. “Best way to get you out.”
She flipped him a card, wishing it was a poison dart. “Did you ever tell him what you did?”
Craig shrugged. “Don’t need to. He wants results. I got ’em.”
Her teeth were gritted so tightly they ached. “Oh yeah. You definitely got ’em.” She flipped Tom a card as she heard a familiar scratching sound.
“What’s that?” Craig’s glance darted around the room.
“Doris.” Deirdre tapped the deck on the table.
“Who’s Doris?”
Tom’s mouth moved up into a faint grin. “That’s Doris,” he said, nodding toward the floor next to Craig’s chair.
Doris stared up at him, her beady black eyes bright.
Several things happened so quickly that it took Deirdre a while to sort them all out. Craig leaped to his feet, yelling. As he yanked his hand upward, Doris fastened onto the flesh at the side, sinking her teeth deep. Craig waved the hand frantically. Doris, no doubt thoroughly terrified, hung on for dear life.
Craig brought his gun hand around, pointing the weapon in the general direction of Doris’s head. Tom picked up the bottle and brought it down on Craig’s wrist, splashing tequila across the table as the gun went flying. Deirdre went flying after it.
“Get it off me,” Craig screamed. “Shoot it! Kill it! Get it off me!”
“Oh for the love of Mike,” Deirdre muttered as she walked back, the gun dangling from her hand. “It’s just an iguana.”
Craig babbled something, and then his knees began to fold.
She watched, fascinated, as his body slid slowly, almost gracefully to the floor. “He fainted,” she said when he was stretched out full length. “The big sissy fainted.”