Cool Hand (24 page)

“Unofficially?” His voice went smooth. “Both Athanate and Were?”

Was that good or bad? If I wasn’t on Felix’s business, then any mistakes I made didn’t affect the Denver pack? Or he felt he could do what he wanted with me without Felix being forced to respond?

I didn’t want to try lying. Felix thought he could tell. I wasn’t sure about Zane’s ability.

I nodded.

Iversen ran his hand across his mouth, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

Fuller frowned and squinted at me. I got the idea that unofficial in his mind clearly meant I had no protection. His look was sexual as well, but he had nothing of the heat of Zane’s eyes. Fuller’s eyes spoke of rape.

“Reckless,” Zane said.

Had I miscalculated here? Rita had implied he wanted something from me. Now it looked like I’d landed in some bullshit involving the Confederation, a rogue pack and a lethal dispute between Romero and the Albuquerque Were.

Concentrate. Diana, Savannah, Claude, me. Nothing else matters at the moment.

“A gambler,” Zane went on. “Do you play poker, Amber?”

Not the question I was expecting. What the hell was the alpha grand plan behind this meeting? Or didn’t he have one?

But poker? When we were back on base with Ops 4-10, the troops had split into two groups—those that were playing poker and those who couldn’t play poker because they’d gotten stuck with some official duty that required both hands, both eyes and both sides of the brain.

“Yeah, I play poker.”

Never played with Were before. How did everyone bluff when they knew how fast hearts were beating and how much adrenaline was being pumped?

Haz brought a new pack of cards from a cupboard, tore the wrapping off and put the pack in his hand.

He tossed the jokers aside and began to shuffle, his fingers showing the same dexterity as he had with the gun.

“It’s Friday,” he said. “Friday is poker night, a tradition in my pack.”

He paused in the shuffle to sign a message
flick-flick-flick
with his fingers at Haz. Apparently, they didn’t need to touch to sign.

“Athanate betrayals and uninvited guests have caused me to lose my partners temporarily, but I don’t see why the tradition should stop for that.”

Betrayal? Had they had some kind of deal with Romero?

Rita had said that there was Were blood on Romero hands.

Fuller and Iversen didn’t react to the words; it seemed they didn’t have any more idea than I had what might be going on in Albuquerque.

While I was searching for reactions from around the table, Haz had taken tumblers and a bottle from a cupboard. I looked sideways as she placed a tumbler in front of me and poured. I couldn’t see the label. It was some kind of brandy and the logo was a buffalo’s head in flames. It was probably a clue as to what my head would feel like, if my Athanate metabolism didn’t beat the brandy into submission. It smelled foul.

Iversen was angry. “I didn’t come here to watch you play card games. I—”

“Not watching.” Zane’s gaze fastened on Iversen. “You want to negotiate, Iversen, you’ll need to win concessions from me. Play cards.”

“What? You mean you’ll make an agreement on the outcome of a card game? Is that what the stakes are?” Iversen couldn’t believe it. “With Gold Hill as well? Are you out of your fucking—”

“No!” Zane snapped, his wolf flaring in his face, his shock of hair shaking with the vehemence of his words. “The stakes you’re playing for are
lives
.”

He leaned forward. I’d thought he let his dominance out before, but I’d been wrong. It lashed out over the table now.

“Lives that my pack has lost today, caught up in a fucking Athanate war, with Romero changing sides and betraying us. With the Confederation stalled at the Colorado border and trying to get an agreement to sneak in the back way. With the border packs killing each other to offer themselves as an association to anyone who’ll shake their hands.”

He stood, resting his fists on the table, and his head swung from one to the other of us. His wolf boiled inside him, just beneath the surface, leaking out of his eyes, making his voice harsh.

“You,” his eyes stabbed at Fuller, “you bring me a wolf from Ute Mountain, as a
gift
, who dies on my floor. And a stray Cimarron cub from Kansas, who you’ve beaten senseless and who is likely to die as well. Which brain cell was firing when you thought it’d be a good idea to get me involved in your dispute with Cimarron?”

“You two,” he glared at me and Evans. “Denver pack, one turning up claiming to be part of Gold Hill and the other claiming to be Athanate, only interested in Romero kin and a companion who’s fallen into Romero’s clutches. Do you think I’m a fool?”

“What’s at stake? All our lives, mine included, if this clusterfuck grows. So, tonight, here,” he rapped the table, “where I make the rules, we play for lives so you, each of you, understand.”

He settled slowly back into his chair, his dominance folding into him with the same elegant motion.

My skin felt too small. My wolf wanted out with an urgency that made my whole body throb. I had to force her back down. This wasn’t her battle, however infectious the anger was.

I had to distance myself from Gold Hill as well, but my mouth wouldn’t work.

With my wolf gone, the Athanate had come out instead.

Shit.

Iversen and Fuller were alphas--not the alphas of their packs, but lieutenants. They weren’t in Zane’s league. Evans hadn’t had any rank in the Denver pack. The three of them were scared of Zane. I was an alpha, but bringing my wolf out here would be a challenge.

Meanwhile, my Athanate was sitting there, enjoying the fear. It wasn’t the same as Rahaimon, feeding on emotion, but it felt close.

And so what? Poker was a game of instinct and reasoning. Reasoning was the Athanate strong suit. The Athanate would be good at this. The wolf wouldn’t.

And it was important. I had no illusions—Zane meant what he said literally. I couldn’t separate the crazy from the cunning, but the man was dangerous and on a knife edge of anger at something.

However the mechanics of it went down, there was death in this room. One or more of us were going to end up like the Romero woman. I had a strong feeling that losing at this poker game would be fatal. And
none
of us would get out alive if we didn’t humor him.

Strangely, with the growing threat of death, the game got simpler for me.

I was good at poker, but there wasn’t the slightest chance I was going to play fair. I would use every advantage I had over the rest of the table.

I relaxed, for the first time since walking down the Calle. My body felt loose, like I was going into a fight. Sweaty. Sharp. Focused.

First things first: there wasn’t enough attention on me.

I took my shoulder holster off as if I were finding it uncomfortable, making sure to stretch and arch my back while I did. Not a lot to show off, but you work with what you’ve got.

With the holster slung over the back of the chair, I ran my fingers casually through my hair, fixing my eyes on Zane.

Where the hell was this coming from?

“If we’re going to play a few rounds, Zane,” I said, “we can’t bet with lives every round. And I didn’t come with any money.”

I managed not to call him ‘honey.’ That would have been too freaky.

And redundant. Everyone sensed the change.

I ignored the glares from either side. This was as much about pissing them off as it was about diverting blood supply from the alpha’s brain, but Zane was the key. I concentrated on him.

His expression was closed. Maybe he saw what I was trying, but he wasn’t going to give me any advantage by showing a reaction to it.

“From what you say, you’re a sub-House of Altau and a sub-pack to Larimer,” he said. “You’re good for it. I’ll take your marker.”

“Well, I’m not here officially, so I’m not sure they’d honor my debts.”

“Then you’d have to find some other way to work them off,” he snarled.

He made a sign for Haz. She brought out a briefcase from a cupboard and opened it on the table. It was full of banker’s straps of Franklins. The base was all neatly sorted, but thrown on top were rolls of bills with elastic bands around them.

“Mr. Iversen arrived with $10,000,” Zane said, holding up the rolls. “I think that amount sounds like someone who’s serious.”

Haz took the rolls and laid them next to Iversen.

“That money wasn’t for gambling,” Iversen said. “It’s for my expenses on this trip.”

Zane smiled at him without humor.

Haz took a couple straps out of the case. One she put next to me, one next to Zane. I glanced down at the mustard yellow strap. One hundred bills of a hundred dollars each. I just taken on a debt to the Albuquerque pack of $10,000.

Crap.

Iversen looked furious, but he didn’t argue anymore. He nervously snapped the elastic off his rolls and laid the bills flat.

Zane looked at Fuller.

“Ahh…we didn’t bring that kind of money, either,” he said, ducking his head slightly. “We’re just here to get recognition of our status.”

“Gold Hill’s not the kind of pack with a balance in the bank,” Zane said, not indicating whether that counted against their pack status or if it was just a comment about whether he’d take their marker.

“No,” Fuller admitted. If it was about status, he’d missed it. He shifted on his seat. “There’s a truck outside.”

Evans looked as if he’d been gut-punched, but he held his tongue.

“Don’t need a truck.” Zane shook his head. “But you have a cabin and land up the top of Hollenbeck Creek. I’ll take a marker against that for both your stakes.”

“That’s pack property. Not really my authority.” Fuller cleared his throat and fidgeted some more.

“Are you an envoy or not?” Zane asked him, voice barely above a growl.

Whatever Fuller had been expecting, it wasn’t this. Being honest with myself, I hadn’t expected it either.

Behind that question was a second one, full of threat: if Fuller wasn’t an envoy, what the hell was he doing in Albuquerque?

Finally, Fuller nodded, and Haz gave him and Evans each $10,000.

“Five card draw,” Zane said.

Five card draw is simple enough; even idiots can play it. And idiots with pay in their pockets had been warmly welcomed in 4-10, because it was still poker, where someone could win the shirt off your back with frightening speed.

Zane tapped the deck on the baize. “Ante, Mr. Evans,” he said.

I had a moment to wonder what Evans was doing here. Fuller didn’t need a driver, and Evans was brand new to his pack. All he’d achieved so far was to put his new pack an extra $10,000 in debt.

Evans peeled off a hundred.

We matched it around the table till it reached Zane. With a flicker of impatience, he put in a thousand.

Hmm. I like. Even if I’m not sure I like that I like.

Cool it down. I could do this without my pants catching fire.

The rest took a breath and we all matched.

Zane dealt.

“So, uh, okay. The money is like a marker,” Fuller said. “And we’re supposed to be staking our lives. But no way you’re staking yours. I mean, your pack wouldn’t let you, wouldn’t let us. So what’re we playing for? Just the deals we came to talk?”

“If that’s not enough, why did you come?” Zane said. “Did you think there wasn’t any risk to what you did?”

“What if
you
lose?” I said to the alpha.

“You want me to put in something you can focus on?” He stared at me, then nodded at the sofa. “Those two. It’s your call, Mr. Evans.”

My heart skipped a beat.

Evans bet cautiously: a couple of hundred.

“What if I win? What value are they to me?” Iversen said.

I raised Evans by a hundred.

“House Romero has apparently contracted Athanate mercenaries to hunt them down,” Zane said. “They’re turning Albuquerque on its ear to find them. That tells me they have value to the right person.”

Fuller matched me. His attention wasn’t on the cards. He licked his lips, his eyes darting across at Savannah.

Sick shit.

Iverson matched.

“They’re mine,” I said, my voice coming out low.

“Everything that comes to the Calle is mine,” Zane said.

He doubled the bet, sent it around the table again.

Match or fold,
he was saying.

His fingers flicked a message over his shoulder.

Haz went and dragged Savannah and her brother off the sofa. She made them kneel beside Zane’s chair.

Savannah clamped her jaws shut to stop any sound from escaping. She wrapped her trembling arms around Claude and pulled him against her as if she could protect him with her own flesh.

I felt the sweat break out on my brow. My vision went gray and narrow.