Unlucky by Jana DeLeon

she didn't gain back control of the table, Reginald would undoubtedly find a place even worse than hell and make sure she was a permanent resident.
    Realizing there wasn't a second to spare, she grabbed the drinks and hustled them around the table, careful to make deliberate contact with every player and more than one with Silas. She totally disrupted the game with her ungraceful maneuvering, but that was just too bad. When she was satisfied that she'd done everything she could to reverse the situation, she slid back onto her stool and looked straight at the frowning face of Jake McMillan.
    "If you're done with your serving, Ms. Devereaux," he said, "we'd like to continue with our play."
    Before she could respond, he focused his attention on the deck and began to deal, his jaw locked tight with obvious aggravation.
    It almost seemed like he'd wanted to lose.
    The thought ripped across her mind in a flash, but she dismissed it as quickly as it had come. That wouldn't make any sense. Jake may not care anything about Reginald, and she was certain he didn't give two wits about her, but why would he throw away his own money?
    She looked once more at the reduced pile of chips in front of Jake and across the table to Silas's larger, more impressive stack. It was her fault. That much she would take responsibility for, but it still didn't explain why Jake had seemed so happy with the situation.
    Then in a flash, still shots of the day washed over her--Jake discarding a full house, Jake smiling at Silas Hebert when she returned to the table, Jake's obvious anger at her when she turned the table back the other way.
    She stared across the table at him and wondered if Jake McMillan was playing for Reginald or for someone else entirely.
     
    When the afternoon break rolled around, Silas Hebert slid off his stool and headed across the casino toward the lobby. He stepped to the side just in front of the exit doors and let the remainder of the players file past him. He reached into his pocket for a cell phone and turned back toward the tables, studying the dealer and the attendant with watchful eyes.
    Something wasn't right about this tournament, of that he was sure.
    The fix was on somehow, but so far, he hadn't been able to determine how they were making it happen. He'd played with the best of cheaters and if the dealer was palming cards or cutting the deck somehow, he was better than Siegfried and Roy.
    He watched as the attendant, Mallory, reached across the table for the empty glasses and loaded them onto a tray. The dealer shoved the spent cards into a pile, readying them for shuffling before they continued for the afternoon. All the while, he stole glances at the attendant, an aggravated expression on his face.
    And that's where Silas got confused.
    If the dealer and the attendant were both in on it, they might be able to pull it off. Although he still couldn't figure out how. From her seat at the table, Mallory couldn't see anyone's hand, and the dealer had been careful to avoid placing cards while she was serving. No, everything had been conducted completely aboveboard. Plus, the tension he could sense between those two didn't at all indicate there was any way they were working together.
    But he still wasn't winning.
    And that just wasn't possible. The dealer was a pretty damned good card player, but not the best Silas had played. And beaten.
    The woman stacked the last of the glasses on the tray and without so much as a glance at the dealer, turned and walked across the casino toward the exit on the other side. The dealer barely lifted his head from the cards as she walked away, but Silas could tell he was watching her, studying her with an intensity he didn't understand.
    But he was damned well going to.
    He flipped his cell phone open and punched in some numbers. As soon as the man on the other end answered, Silas began to bark out orders. "I need you to run a couple of checks for me. Man by the name of Jake McMillan. Might be the