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Chapter Nine

Although he hadn’t said anything to Delia about what she should wear to the tournament, he should have known she’d pick exactly the right thing.

Skinny jeans, a silky top in a soft blue-green that only made her red hair stand out that much more, sandals with a bit of a heel but not enough to make her look as if she was tottering around the way some women did when they slipped on a pair of stilettos that were way too high.

No, she was just effortlessly beautiful in a way that made him want to stand there and stare and drink in every single detail of her appearance.

However, he had a feeling that doing so wouldn’t win him any points, not when she was so relentlessly trying to keep him in the friend zone.

“What do you think?” he asked as she followed him out to the driveway where the new Mercedes was parked.

“Very nice,” she observed. “Beautiful, but understated.”

“And not rare in the slightest,” he said as he opened the passenger door for her. “In fact, I saw two of this same model while I was driving over here.”

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Same color?”

He couldn’t help smiling in return. “Well, one of them was.”

She chuckled, and he went around to the driver’s side of the car and lowered himself into the seat.

A brief pause while he checked the mirrors — he’d already set up the automatic seat position at the dealership, but he didn’t think he’d gotten the mirror angles just right — and then he backed out of her driveway and headed toward the feeder road that led out of the development where she lived.

From there, it was about a fifteen-minute trip to the casino.

During the drive, they talked about cars…

she wanted to know why he’d opted for a Mercedes over a BMW, and although he didn’t have a very good explanation as to why he’d made the decision, he found himself saying, “I suppose it’s because there was a Mercedes dealership closer to the place where I sold the Porsche.

Trying to keep those cab fares as low as I can. ”

At that comment, she only shook her head, although he noted how another smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

She seemed in a mellow mood today. Whether that was because she truly was more relaxed, or whether she was just trying to do what she could to make sure he wasn’t too stressed out heading into the tournament, he couldn’t say for certain.

Either way, he’d take it. Right then, he was just glad of the chance to spend a little more time in her company, considering how busy she’d been lately.

“Any news on the house?” he asked, and she shook her head.

“Well, not news, news,” she replied. “I know at least one broker was showing the place today, but I haven’t heard anything from her.”

“But someone else could have viewed it?”

Delia nodded. “Usually, an agent will tell me out of courtesy if they’re going to show a property, but they don’t have to, not when the house is on a lockbox.”

Right. Caleb knew the lockbox code would be available on a home’s real estate listing, since he’d seen that for himself when he was cruising the MLS looking for any viable candidates for a house flip.

However, since he’d never sold a house or even shown one, he wasn’t completely clear on the etiquette involved.

“I suppose if that’s the case, then it’s just a nice surprise when someone calls out of the blue with an offer.”

She was looking forward, her face in profile to him, but he could still see the way her lips curved in amusement. “That’s a good way of looking at it.”

By that point, they were almost at the casino, so they both went silent as he pulled into the parking lot.

Today he didn’t have quite as good luck finding a parking space, and they had to settle for something at the end of one row.

However, Caleb told himself that might be a good thing, since the spot he’d found was just isolated enough that no one was around to see them get out of the car.

Since this was his third day in a row doing basically the same thing, this had begun to feel like a routine, like some kind of job he was going to.

Not old hat, though, not with Delia at his side.

The same tension tightened his stomach, however, and he knew he definitely didn’t want to fail this time.

This time, Delia would be watching him play, and that had made a huge difference in how he viewed the proceedings.

After he checked in, they had to part ways, with her going to join the spectators while he went to take a seat at the table he’d been assigned to.

On this last day of qualifying rounds, the number of players had been diminished significantly from more than eighty to just thirty-two.

By the time the day was over, though, only sixteen would be continuing to the quarterfinals.

Today’s table held three other players Caleb hadn’t encountered in the previous rounds: a middle-aged woman with close-cropped gray hair who introduced herself as Margaret Howard, a heavy-set man with thick Coke-bottle glasses named Paul Reeves, and a reed-thin guy who called himself Dave Wheeler but whose Eastern European accent suggested that probably wasn’t his real name.

As Caleb took his seat, he caught sight of Ty Carter lurking near the velvet rope, ostensibly watching someone at another table. Maybe he was just there to pick up a few tricks from the players who’d made it to the final qualifying round, considering how he’d had to drop out very early on.

But something about Ty’s presence made Caleb’s supernatural senses prickle in an unfamiliar way.

Not the dark, hungry energy he associated with demon blood, but something else — something almost luminous, like sunlight through stained glass, a sensation he’d never experienced before.

The way Ty’s attention kept returning to this table suggested he had more than a casual interest in the proceedings, and Caleb felt himself tensing, even if he couldn’t say exactly why.

The dealer — another new face — began shuffling with practiced efficiency.

From his position at the table, Caleb could see Delia in the crowd, her red hair making her easy to spot.

She gave him an encouraging smile, and the tension that had been tightening his neck and shoulders eased ever so slightly as he sent her an answering grin.

He also noticed a tall Hispanic man standing among the spectators, though his attention seemed more focused on Delia than the tournament, his dark eyes watching her closely.

Did she have a stalker? A boyfriend?

No, that didn’t feel right. He and Delia might not have been dating, but he knew they were good enough friends that she would have told him if she was seeing someone.

Well, whoever the guy was, Caleb knew he couldn’t let the man’s presence rattle him. Not when he was here to compete…and to win.

The first few hands played out cautiously, with Margaret taking an early pot and Dave folding more often than not.

But it was Paul Reeves who drew Caleb’s attention — there was something about the way his chips moved across the felt, their movement not quite natural, as if they were being guided by more than just his fingers.

Then came the hand that changed everything. Caleb looked down at an ace and a king, both spades — the kind of hand that would normally have him reaching for his powers, just to ensure he got the flush he needed. But no. He’d made it this far playing straight, and he wasn’t about to change now.

“Raise,” he said, pushing forward a substantial stack of chips.

Margaret folded immediately, but Dave called with barely a hesitation.

Paul’s chips seemed to whisper across the felt as he called as well, and Caleb noticed Ty Carter shift his position at the velvet rope, his presence casting what felt almost like a protective aura over the proceedings, even though Caleb guessed the impression must have been his imagination and nothing more.

The flop came down: king of hearts, seven of hearts, two of diamonds.

Top pair, top kicker. Strong, but not unbeatable.

Dave checked, and Paul bet big — almost too big, as if he was trying to buy the pot right there.

The chips moved with that same uncanny precision, and now Caleb was sure he wasn’t imagining things…

even though he kind of wished all this was his imagination and nothing more.

He called, watching as Dave mucked his cards with a disgusted expression.

The turn brought the jack of hearts. Three hearts on board now, giving Caleb the nut flush draw to go with his pair of kings. Paul’s bet was smaller this time, almost tentative, but there was nothing tentative about the way his chips seemed to arrange themselves perfectly as they slid forward.

Caleb felt the familiar itch to use his powers, just a peek to see what he was up against. But then he caught a glimpse of Delia in the crowd, her expression confident, encouraging, and the urge faded. He called.

The river card was the ace of clubs.

Two pair now, aces and kings with a jack kicker. Strong, but that flush draw hadn’t gotten there. Paul pushed forward nearly all his remaining chips, and this time Caleb knew he saw them move the last half-inch on their own.

He glanced toward the rail and caught a glimpse of Ty Carter watching intently, his expression unreadable, but something about his presence radiated a strong sense of disapproval.

Whatever was going on here, Ty knew about it — and seemed to be monitoring not just the supernatural manipulation, but Caleb’s response to it.

Paul’s face remained impassive behind his thick glasses, but there was something in his eyes that didn’t feel quite right, a gleam of satisfaction that seemed sort of premature, given that Caleb hadn’t even called yet.

“All in,” Caleb said quietly, pushing his stack forward.