guy you were expecting. About six-two, in good shape, brown hair. Claims he's from Atlantic City.
Not sure on that part, but he's definitely a Yankee. Other one's a woman, name of Mallory Devereaux. She's Cajun and most likely lives in the area."
There was a bit of a pause on the other end and Silas could hear the rustle of pen on paper. "The guy sounds right," the other man said finally. "What am I looking for exactly on the woman?"
"Everything you can get," Silas said. "E-mail what you can, overnight the hard copy to my hotel. Once I have the info, I'll give you a call back and let you know how to proceed."
"Got it. How's the tournament going?"
"Not so good at the moment. I think that dealer and the attendant are making something happen, but I haven't been able to place how."
"This is nothing to play around with, Silas. I know you've got your reasons, but you need to consider the risks."
"I don't need you to tell me the risks. Do you think I got this far being foolish? If I can't straighten things out soon, I'll bow out, but not a moment before." He snapped the phone shut and watched as one of the other dealers opened the door next to him and strolled into the kitchen. The man nodded as he passed, and Silas wondered how much he had heard.
No matter. He couldn't have been close enough to overhear more than the last comment and that in itself wouldn't mean much. He glanced once more across the room. Jake McMillan had finished fiddling with the cards and was headed across the casino some distance behind Mallory Devereaux. His expression was a mixture of aggravation and confusion.
Silas didn't know how they were managing it, but somehow that dealer and the woman were up to something, and there was no way he was letting a Yankee and some two-bit floozy get the best of him. He had serious business to settle with Reginald--the last of his business with the St. Claire family. And by God, he was calling that debt one way or another.
Whatever the dealer and attendant were doing, he was going to find out.
Then he was going to deal with them. His way.
Jake stepped into the lobby, hoping to get away from the rest of the casino crowd, and was relieved to find the area empty. He needed to think and think fast. He'd been dead wrong about Mallory Devereaux. Whatever the hell was wrong with her--and he still didn't want to know--it worked. Now if only she would work her magic for him again.
He paced the length of the lobby and stared out the windowed walls at the Gulf. Convincing Mallory to help him was going to be tricky. After all, she was probably just as shady as her uncle. But he would have to trust her--at least a little--or this bust was never going to happen.
"McMillan."
Jake turned. "Brad," he said, and nodded. "How's it going?" He was somewhat surprised he hadn't heard the other dealer enter the lobby.
"Not bad. I'm up about twenty K and looking for a bit more before the end of day. I've got a real amateur at my table. Me and the others are eating him alive."
"Makes it easier. That's for sure."
Brad smiled. "How about you? Based on what I heard, you must be putting it to them good."
Jake stared at Brad. "I'm doing pretty good I guess. Why? What did you hear?"
"One of your players was on his cell when I left the casino, saying as how he might cut out soon."
Jake felt the panic run through him. "Which player?" He struggled to keep his voice steady.
"That Silas dude." Brad laughed. "That's pretty damned good, man. Silas Hebert is sort of a legend in Louisiana when it comes to card playing. If you're whooping him enough to make him consider leaving the first day then I may need to get some pointers from you."
Jake nodded and tried to control his emotions. "Yeah, sure. Maybe we can talk at lunch tomorrow. Listen, I've got to run. Got a couple of things to take care of before break is over."
"No problem, man. I'll catch you at lunch tomorrow. And hey, there's a fishing rodeo this weekend if you're
Not sure on that part, but he's definitely a Yankee. Other one's a woman, name of Mallory Devereaux. She's Cajun and most likely lives in the area."
There was a bit of a pause on the other end and Silas could hear the rustle of pen on paper. "The guy sounds right," the other man said finally. "What am I looking for exactly on the woman?"
"Everything you can get," Silas said. "E-mail what you can, overnight the hard copy to my hotel. Once I have the info, I'll give you a call back and let you know how to proceed."
"Got it. How's the tournament going?"
"Not so good at the moment. I think that dealer and the attendant are making something happen, but I haven't been able to place how."
"This is nothing to play around with, Silas. I know you've got your reasons, but you need to consider the risks."
"I don't need you to tell me the risks. Do you think I got this far being foolish? If I can't straighten things out soon, I'll bow out, but not a moment before." He snapped the phone shut and watched as one of the other dealers opened the door next to him and strolled into the kitchen. The man nodded as he passed, and Silas wondered how much he had heard.
No matter. He couldn't have been close enough to overhear more than the last comment and that in itself wouldn't mean much. He glanced once more across the room. Jake McMillan had finished fiddling with the cards and was headed across the casino some distance behind Mallory Devereaux. His expression was a mixture of aggravation and confusion.
Silas didn't know how they were managing it, but somehow that dealer and the woman were up to something, and there was no way he was letting a Yankee and some two-bit floozy get the best of him. He had serious business to settle with Reginald--the last of his business with the St. Claire family. And by God, he was calling that debt one way or another.
Whatever the dealer and attendant were doing, he was going to find out.
Then he was going to deal with them. His way.
Jake stepped into the lobby, hoping to get away from the rest of the casino crowd, and was relieved to find the area empty. He needed to think and think fast. He'd been dead wrong about Mallory Devereaux. Whatever the hell was wrong with her--and he still didn't want to know--it worked. Now if only she would work her magic for him again.
He paced the length of the lobby and stared out the windowed walls at the Gulf. Convincing Mallory to help him was going to be tricky. After all, she was probably just as shady as her uncle. But he would have to trust her--at least a little--or this bust was never going to happen.
"McMillan."
Jake turned. "Brad," he said, and nodded. "How's it going?" He was somewhat surprised he hadn't heard the other dealer enter the lobby.
"Not bad. I'm up about twenty K and looking for a bit more before the end of day. I've got a real amateur at my table. Me and the others are eating him alive."
"Makes it easier. That's for sure."
Brad smiled. "How about you? Based on what I heard, you must be putting it to them good."
Jake stared at Brad. "I'm doing pretty good I guess. Why? What did you hear?"
"One of your players was on his cell when I left the casino, saying as how he might cut out soon."
Jake felt the panic run through him. "Which player?" He struggled to keep his voice steady.
"That Silas dude." Brad laughed. "That's pretty damned good, man. Silas Hebert is sort of a legend in Louisiana when it comes to card playing. If you're whooping him enough to make him consider leaving the first day then I may need to get some pointers from you."
Jake nodded and tried to control his emotions. "Yeah, sure. Maybe we can talk at lunch tomorrow. Listen, I've got to run. Got a couple of things to take care of before break is over."
"No problem, man. I'll catch you at lunch tomorrow. And hey, there's a fishing rodeo this weekend if you're
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