Unlucky (24 page)

"So?" Amy asked as she chewed.

Mallory looked over at her friend and shook her head. "Didn't your momma teach you not to talk with your mouth full?"

Amy gave her the finger and swallowed. "Yeah, she taught me not to do that too. It's a good thing I met you when I did--it was almost too late to reverse all that charm-school learning." She batted her eyes at Mallory and plastered a beauty-queen smile on her face.

Mallory laughed. "If your mother knew half the things you've picked up from me, she might lose a bit of charm herself--at least long enough to shoot me."

Amy grinned. "Now that would be a sight--Mother with a weapon. The closest thing I've ever seen to that was when she used one of her designer shoes to kill a bug. Then she swore me to silence."

"What's wrong with killing a bug?"

"
Ladies
are not supposed to involve themselves in anything rough, even bug killing. She should have called a servant to take care of it."

"Are you sure you weren't adopted?"

"Mom would like to think so, but it was a natural birth, so her memory's real clear." Amy swallowed the last bite of her sandwich and turned on the rollout to face Mallory. "So what else did you find? And no holding back. There were an awful lot of people scrambling in that hotel when the alarm went off, and they weren't all running for the exit. I'm not about to believe that all of them belonged to Silas."

"They probably didn't." Mallory looked her friend straight in the eyes. "You absolutely cannot repeat what I'm about to tell you."

Amy nodded. "Promise."

Mallory told her what they'd learned from Brad.

"Oh, my God," Amy said when Mallory was done. "What about the box of guns Scooter found in the storeroom. Is Reginald in on the dealing?"

"Brad says no, and I believe him."

"But then why have the guns?"

"I'm hoping to God the guns belong to the ATF, because I don't really want to consider any alternatives."

Amy set down her sandwich and stared out the window for a couple of seconds, then turned back to Mallory. "I just can't believe it. It's so HBO feature film. I mean, you knew he was up to something, but good grief, how many federal agents are occupying the same square footage in a hole-in-the-wall in Louisiana? It's a statistical anomaly."

"My whole life is a statistical anomaly. Why would this be any different?"

"You know, with that alarm going off in the hotel, all those guys are going to be on high alert--the good guys and the bad guys--not that it's all that easy to tell them apart at the moment. I bet none of them chalk it up to coincidence."

"Probably not."

"That ATF guy, Brad, he's going to know it was you and Jake."

"He's going to think it was us. He's not going to have any proof."

Amy sighed. "What a mess. And you tried to tell me, Mallory. I'm sorry I didn't come to you before I signed up."

"What's done is done."

"I guess you're right, but what a disaster." Amy closed her eyes for a moment, as if in prayer, then opened them again and stared at the ceiling. "Hey," she said finally. "What do you think set off that alarm anyway? I never saw any smoke at all."

Oh there was smoke all right. And fire, but Mallory wasn't about to tell Amy that it had all come from the stairwell action between her and Jake. "My jacket got caught on the sprinkler release when we were hiding in the stairwell. When I moved, it set the whole thing off."

Amy stared at her for a moment, and Mallory was afraid her friend was going to see right through her flimsy story, but she finally smiled, then giggled, then collapsed in a heap over her pillow, her whole body shaking with laughter.

"I'm sorry, Mallory, but that is so you. If there were ever a time you needed to be quiet and unobtrusive, this was it, and instead you managed to evacuate a hotel and put every federal agent and criminal in Louisiana on high alert."

Mallory thought about it for a moment and decided if it hadn't been her, and she hadn't been about to get lucky (so to speak) for the first time in years, it might have been funny in a sad, twisted, how-could-I-possibly-fuck-things-up-more sort of way. Finally, she gave in and laughed along with Amy.

It was either that or cry.

They stayed up a little while longer, talking about Amy's thesis, movies, what they wanted to do for vacation--anything unrelated to poker, criminals, bad luck or men. When Amy finally started yawning more than talking, Mallory reached over for the body pillow and positioned it down the center of the bed between them just as her friend nodded off.

She glanced at her uneaten sandwich but still didn't feel hungry, even though she hadn't eaten since lunch. She was tired but restless, and knew if she tried to force sleep, it would be the kind filled with hectic dreams and frantic situations. The kind where you woke up more tired than before you went to bed. She got up and took a look back at her sleeping friend. Amy's body was curled in a tiny ball, her back pressed against the giant pillow.

The pillow that protected her from Mallory.

Tearing her gaze away from the rollout, Mallory stepped out onto her back porch. The night air was thick with humidity, but a gentle breeze rolling in off the bayou created that nighttime chill that was so common in the spring. She leaned against one post of the porch and watched the tide roll out, the moonlight glittering across its surface like diamonds.

It was better this way, that things between her and Jake had stopped where they did. Breaking into Silas's room was already crossing personal boundaries, especially after a childhood filled with court appearances, Child Protection Services drop-ins and Sunday prison visits. Hell, she'd never even had a traffic ticket, much less done something she could have gone to jail for.

A week ago, if anyone had told her she'd be cooling cards for Reginald and breaking and entering into Silas Hebert's hotel room--with the aid of an FBI agent, no less--she would have accused them of being in the sun too long or trying to outdrink Scooter. But then a week ago, Harry's business wasn't at stake, an FBI agent wasn't missing, and Silas Hebert wasn't at the crux of it all, at least not that she'd known about.

Falling for Jake McMillan was a whole other issue and one she simply couldn't afford. She didn't even know his real name. And what difference did it make when she knew he would be back north of the Mason-Dixon by the weekend, probably vowing to never return to Royal Flush as long as he lived? Breaking the law was something she'd live with, even justify due to the circumstances. Breaking her heart was not an option.

Jake knew the moment Mallory entered the casino. A strange sensation pulsed through his body, and he looked up at the doorway as she stepped inside. She was beautiful, as always, but even from across the floor he could tell her step lacked the usual energetic bounce and her expression was more thoughtful than playful.

The situation was taking a toll on her, and for that, he felt guilty.

Jake noticed Mallory was careful to avoid his gaze. Probably a good idea. With all his training and experience, Jake could force a blank face if needed, but Mallory's life had probably never called for anything but the truth, something she was used to delivering like rapid gunfire.

Once she'd taken the drink orders and headed off to the kitchen, Jake pulled the first of the cards from the shoe and dealt it across the table. There wasn't any use in waiting on Mallory for the first hand. The other players weren't a threat to him, and Silas had obviously found a way to work around her. A way Jake hoped would surface sometime today.

They were just finishing up the first hand when Mallory returned with the coffee. Father Thomas had managed to play out a rather good hand and had taken a fairly impressive pot to start the day. He beamed up at Mallory as she slid between him and another player to place the mug of coffee in front of him.

"Mallory, my child," the priest said. "Look at the start of the Lord's day--it's rained chips like manna."

Mallory grinned. "Now that would be an impressive trick. And a very dangerous one in this town."

All the other players, except Silas, laughed and even Father Thomas gave her words some consideration. "Perhaps you're right," he said finally. "I shall keep this blessing the Lord has given me to myself. For the safety of the community, of course."

"Of course."

Father Thomas turned to the table and started to pick up his drink when he noticed it was coffee. "What's this? It's already ten a.m. Why did you bring me coffee?"

Mallory moved to the next player and placed another coffee on the table. "Because the casino is completely out of Jack Daniel's--no thanks to you--and there won't be more in until lunch, at which point we'll be about a hundred miles offshore on this floating boat of fun. Add to that, the beer cooler broke down sometime last night, so all the beer is hot. Scooter fixed it, but it will probably take until lunchtime to cool everything off again."

Father Thomas stared at her with a look of dismay. "The plague has come upon us."

"Well, unless you plan on parting the Gulf of Mexico so the delivery truck can drive out here, you're going to have to choose another way to pickle your liver. I brought the coffee to give you time to decide."

Mallory finished up drink service and slid onto her stool, giving Jake a brief nod. She'd done a thorough job touching the players, even Silas, though it was probably a complete waste of time. Still, Jake understood why she needed to try and respected her for doing it.

He dealt the next hand across the table, then reached down to flip up the edge of his cards, hoping for something good enough to keep him in play.

No way!

He stared at the cards, utilizing every ounce of control he had to maintain a blank look on his face. And the royal flush stared back at him in all its glory.

What the hell?

The other men had already made their discards, and he had to think fast. It was tempting to keep the hand, even though he knew there was absolutely no way he could. Finally, he took the ace and king and tossed them into the pile of discards. He dealt the replacement cards and desperately hoped for a miracle.

He held his breath as he pulled the edge of the cards off the table and almost fell over when he saw what lay beneath his fingers--an ace and a king of a different suit. It was as if the first day of the tournament were happening all over again.

As if Mallory's bad luck was back in play.

Mallory watched in amazement as hand after hand went Jake's way. It was as if someone had flipped her switch back on. But how?

Her mind flashed to the voodoo doll hidden in her closet and she drew in a breath. Had that really been the catalyst? Had Silas Hebert held some kind of power over her through the doll? It was the only explanation, the only thing that had changed from yesterday to today.

And it was the last thing she wanted to believe.

Jake appeared normal as he played the hands out, but Mallory knew him well enough by now to know that a confused interior lurked behind that calm facade. Which meant he had no idea why the table had turned, either.