interested."
God help him. Jake managed to exit the lobby at a normal pace, but as soon as he was out of Brad's viewing range, he quickened his step and hurried toward the kitchen where he'd seen Mallory go when the break started.
He had a plan. It was going to be called into action a little sooner than he had expected. He just hoped like hell it worked.
Mallory hurried to the kitchen as soon as the break started, hoping Scooter knew where her uncle was hiding. She hadn't seen Reginald since lunch. Unfortunately, Scooter wasn't available either, and a dishwasher informed her that Scooter had been in the engine room since right after lunch, assuring the return trip to shore would take place as scheduled.
She considered briefly which worried her more--Jake's ulterior motive for playing the tournament or Scooter working on the engine, but they were running too close to call.
She glanced at the clock on the wall and wondered if she had enough time left on break to accomplish anything. There were too many inconsistencies in Jake McMillan's behavior to ignore. And even though at the moment, she might not trust Reginald any further than she could throw him, she knew her uncle would crawl up Jake's butt with a microscope if he thought for even a second that the dealer wasn't doing his best to win.
At least Father Thomas hadn't said a word about her cooling ability. Mallory had inwardly cringed every time he'd opened his mouth. But for whatever reason, and Mallory was seriously considering divine intervention, the priest had stuck only to mangled Bible verses and hadn't imparted any personal secrets.
Deciding that some fresh air might help her think more clearly, she left the kitchen and stepped outside a set of sliding doors onto a small balcony. She'd barely closed the door behind her and turned to look out over the Gulf when the door slid open and Jake McMillan stepped through.
"We need to talk," he said, his voice hard, his expression serious.
Mallory studied him for a moment, then glanced inside. They were in full view of the kitchen staff, so surely he wasn't going to attempt anything stupid--like pitching her overboard.
"You're right about that," she said, and immediately made the decision to take this matter into her own hands. She could always fill in Reginald later. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Apparently, the question was not one Jake had expected because he was taken aback for a moment. Then a hint of anger crossed his face and Mallory knew they were back on common ground. "Don't you think that's what I should be asking you?"
Mallory shook her head. "Don't give me that shit. What I really want to know is how long you've been working for Silas Hebert."
Jake stared at her, the stunned expression on his face so sincere there was no way he was faking it. "I'm not working for Silas Hebert," he finally managed to get out. "What the hell gave you that idea?"
Mallory narrowed her eyes at him. "Nothing special, except the fact that you're throwing hands, and you were all excited when you started losing to Silas, then angry when I reversed the luck."
She studied him for a moment more, then blew out a breath. "Whether you're working for him or not--and the jury is still out on that one--if you lose Reginald's money to Silas Hebert, there's the possibility you won't be around to tell about it. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Jake stared at her in surprise. "I knew your uncle was kind of shady, but what you're suggesting is a lot more dangerous."
"I'm not saying I know for sure. But there's always been rumors... I just don't know what's true and what's bluff."
"But you aren't willing to run the risk."
"Hell, no."
Jake looked out over the open water and ran one hand through his hair. Finally, he turned back to her. "Look, I'm not interested in losing anything, especially to Silas Hebert. I hate the man for a list of reasons I don't have time to explain. But I don't want him to leave this tournament
God help him. Jake managed to exit the lobby at a normal pace, but as soon as he was out of Brad's viewing range, he quickened his step and hurried toward the kitchen where he'd seen Mallory go when the break started.
He had a plan. It was going to be called into action a little sooner than he had expected. He just hoped like hell it worked.
Mallory hurried to the kitchen as soon as the break started, hoping Scooter knew where her uncle was hiding. She hadn't seen Reginald since lunch. Unfortunately, Scooter wasn't available either, and a dishwasher informed her that Scooter had been in the engine room since right after lunch, assuring the return trip to shore would take place as scheduled.
She considered briefly which worried her more--Jake's ulterior motive for playing the tournament or Scooter working on the engine, but they were running too close to call.
She glanced at the clock on the wall and wondered if she had enough time left on break to accomplish anything. There were too many inconsistencies in Jake McMillan's behavior to ignore. And even though at the moment, she might not trust Reginald any further than she could throw him, she knew her uncle would crawl up Jake's butt with a microscope if he thought for even a second that the dealer wasn't doing his best to win.
At least Father Thomas hadn't said a word about her cooling ability. Mallory had inwardly cringed every time he'd opened his mouth. But for whatever reason, and Mallory was seriously considering divine intervention, the priest had stuck only to mangled Bible verses and hadn't imparted any personal secrets.
Deciding that some fresh air might help her think more clearly, she left the kitchen and stepped outside a set of sliding doors onto a small balcony. She'd barely closed the door behind her and turned to look out over the Gulf when the door slid open and Jake McMillan stepped through.
"We need to talk," he said, his voice hard, his expression serious.
Mallory studied him for a moment, then glanced inside. They were in full view of the kitchen staff, so surely he wasn't going to attempt anything stupid--like pitching her overboard.
"You're right about that," she said, and immediately made the decision to take this matter into her own hands. She could always fill in Reginald later. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Apparently, the question was not one Jake had expected because he was taken aback for a moment. Then a hint of anger crossed his face and Mallory knew they were back on common ground. "Don't you think that's what I should be asking you?"
Mallory shook her head. "Don't give me that shit. What I really want to know is how long you've been working for Silas Hebert."
Jake stared at her, the stunned expression on his face so sincere there was no way he was faking it. "I'm not working for Silas Hebert," he finally managed to get out. "What the hell gave you that idea?"
Mallory narrowed her eyes at him. "Nothing special, except the fact that you're throwing hands, and you were all excited when you started losing to Silas, then angry when I reversed the luck."
She studied him for a moment more, then blew out a breath. "Whether you're working for him or not--and the jury is still out on that one--if you lose Reginald's money to Silas Hebert, there's the possibility you won't be around to tell about it. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Jake stared at her in surprise. "I knew your uncle was kind of shady, but what you're suggesting is a lot more dangerous."
"I'm not saying I know for sure. But there's always been rumors... I just don't know what's true and what's bluff."
"But you aren't willing to run the risk."
"Hell, no."
Jake looked out over the open water and ran one hand through his hair. Finally, he turned back to her. "Look, I'm not interested in losing anything, especially to Silas Hebert. I hate the man for a list of reasons I don't have time to explain. But I don't want him to leave this tournament
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