Page 48 of Roulette Rodeo (Jackknife Ridge Ranch #1)

DOUBLE-HEADED COINS AND SHARP TONGUES

~RED~

" L uca Ferrero," Corwin says, and the name carries weight like a loaded gun.

I study the three alphas surrounding me, taking in their defensive positioning, the way their hands hover near concealed weapons, the tension radiating off them in waves.

It's like watching a crime show, except I'm standing in the middle of it instead of safely on my couch.

"Is he some mobster or something?" I ask, trying to piece together the puzzle. "Because you're all looking at him like he personally murdered your puppies."

Corwin's lips twitch despite the situation, fighting back what might be a smile. Shiloh's doing the same, that muscle in his jaw working overtime to maintain his serious expression. But it's Talon who breaks first, letting out a short bark of laughter.

"Well," Talon mutters, eyes tracking the man's movement, "he noticed us."

The man in question turns our way, and I get my first real look at Luca Ferrero.

He's... pretty?

Not handsome in the rough way my pack is— and when did I start thinking of them as mine?

—but pretty in that carefully cultivated way that speaks of money and vanity in equal measure.

His black hair catches the light, revealing dark green highlights that probably cost more than most people's rent.

The suit he's wearing is definitely designer, probably Italian, completely inappropriate for the warm afternoon in a town where everyone else is in jeans and flannels.

I've seen a thousand men like him in the casino.

The ones who wear their wealth like armor, thinking expensive clothes can hide the rot underneath. Men who believe a charming smile and a fat wallet make them untouchable.

Men who treat omegas like collectibles, status symbols to be displayed and discarded.

But there's something else there too.

Now that I know a bit about Jackknife Ridge— how it harbors those with dark pasts seeking peace —I can see he's carrying his own demons.

Only he's still at that stage where he needs to flaunt, to prove something to everyone, including himself.

The expensive suit isn't just about money; it's about still playing a game the others have already walked away from.

A charming grin spreads across his face as he says something to the woman he's been talking to—Mrs. Henderson, whom Corwin mentioned earlier.

She practically scurries away, disappearing into what looks like a bakery.

But I catch her hovering by the window, clearly hoping to witness whatever drama is about to unfold.

Small towns and their gossip.

Some things are universal.

Luca's walk is deliberately casual, but I can read the predator in it. The way his eyes catalog exits, threats, opportunities. He's dangerous, but it's a different kind of danger than my pack carries. Theirs is controlled, purposeful. His feels more like a lit fuse, waiting to explode.

When he reaches us, he raises his hands in a gesture of mock surrender, that grin never wavering.

"Wow, long time no see, my ex-pack."

I pout, looking between the guys as that particular bomb detonates.

Ex-pack?

Shiloh sighs, the sound carrying years of exhaustion.

"How long ago was that? Two, two and a half years?"

"Something like that," Luca agrees, his green-tinted eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Why are you even here?" Talon demands, crossing his arms. "Doing some sort of business deal? Trying to buy another plot of land to bid on in the stocks just to make yourself appear rich and powerful?"

Corwin grumbles under his breath, just loud enough for us to hear.

"We don't need our day ruined by your existence. So if you could leave, preferably before Rafe gets here?—"

Luca's laugh is bright and sharp as broken glass.

"You're all so enthusiastic! But you know I love grinding Rafe's gears the most." His expression turns mock-sympathetic.

"He lost the other day in the stocks. Three mil, gone like that.

" He snaps his fingers. "A shame to lose to me, as usual, but what else to expect when there's always someone better on the playing field? "

His attention shifts to me then, and I watch his pupils dilate as he leans in, inhaling deeply.

"Wow," he breathes, and his voice has gone husky. "You're a sweet cherry pie, darling."

The reaction is instantaneous.

All three of my alphas—and yes, definitely mine if this is how they react to another alpha scenting me—let out warning growls that would send lesser beings running. The sound reverberates through the air, primal and possessive.

But I've faced down worse than one pretty boy in an expensive suit.

I tilt my head, studying him with the same calculating look I used to size up marks at the casino.

"Do you gamble?"

The question clearly wasn't what he expected.

"Yes."

I bob my head thoughtfully.

"What's your favorite game? One that can be played anywhere?"

His eyes light up with interest.

"Coin toss."

A slow smirk spreads across my face.

"Cool. Got a coin?"

One perfectly sculpted eyebrow arches in intrigue before he reaches into his pocket, pulling out what looks like a silver dollar.

"As a matter of fact, I do."

He shows me the heads side— an eagle with spread wings —making a show of the display.

"When I flip it," he starts, "we can do a quick bid?—"

"Fine," I interrupt.

"Red," Talon says in warning, but I lift my hand to stop him. The three of them exchange worried looks, but I'm focused entirely on Luca.

He flips the coin with practiced ease, the silver spinning through the air, and before he can call it, I say, "Heads."

The coin lands in his palm.

He doesn't even need to look at it—we both know what it's showing.

"Winner gets a hundred bucks and an open tab at the nearest bar," I declare.

Shiloh snickers, unable to help himself.

"There's only one bar here."

"Even better," I grin.

Luca frowns, confusion replacing his earlier smugness.

"Aren't you going to let me call what it is?"

I shrug, the picture of innocence.

"No need. Both sides are heads."

The silence that follows is beautiful.

The guys exchange looks of dawning understanding while Luca's face goes through several fascinating expressions.

Without waiting for his response, I reach over and flip the coin myself, revealing what we all now know—both sides show the same eagle.

"What the fuck, Luca?" Talon explodes. "You literally cheated."

Luca shrugs, trying to reclaim his nonchalance.

"Usually omegas aren't smart enough to catch the trick."

"Well," I smile sweetly, extending my hand, "pay up."

He huffs but pulls out his wallet, extracting a crisp hundred-dollar bill and placing it in my palm with obvious reluctance.

"And the open tab," I remind him.

"Fine," he grumbles. "Not like you can drink that much anyway."

"Oh, I never said I was going by myself." My smile turns sharp. "But I guess you'll have to take your chances figuring out when I do pass by."

His eye twitches, actual visible frustration breaking through his polished exterior.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Red," I say simply, offering nothing more.

He stares at me for a long moment before offering his hand.

"Luca."

We shake, and the tension between us is palpable—not sexual, but something else. Recognition that I’m a threat to whatever ploy he’s playing in this small town. One player acknowledging another.

"What exchange is happening here?"

The new voice cuts through the moment like a blade.

We all turn to find Rafe standing ten feet away, looking absolutely furious. His usually perfect appearance is slightly disheveled, like he ran here, and his ice-gray eyes are practically shooting lightning at Luca.

Luca rolls his eyes, his smugness returning full force.

"This new omega was teaching me a few tricks." He points to the hundred in my hand. "Smart cookie, if you ask me. Smart and sweet."

"If sweet-talking could get you into an omega's pants," I say conversationally, "you would have been mated by now."

The laughter that erupts from behind Rafe is deep and delighted.

An older man emerges—tall, bulky, with the kind of presence that fills spaces. He's wearing worn jeans and a flannel that's seen better days, but something about him screams authority.

"Now who's the feisty omega that seems to have reunited the Lucky Ace Pack to its full glory?"

"We're not reunited," Luca and Rafe say in perfect, angry unison, glaring at each other with enough heat to start a fire.

I raise my hand like an eager student.

"Me, sir! Now, where's your nearest and best lunch spot? Because a girl's hungry after gambling and winning a whole buck-load that can feed me and maybe four out of the five beasts here."

I pause, looking directly at Luca.

"Casual attire only."

He huffs, rolling his eyes, but I catch him fighting back what might be a genuine smile.

"I'm just about to leave anyway. Got money to make."

"Or lose," I counter cheerfully.

His jaw clenches, and he turns away with dramatic flair. But he can't resist looking back at Rafe one more time.

"You'd better tame this wild omega of yours," he says, and there's something darker in his tone now. "Would ruin Sophia's legacy if you stooped so... low."

The name lands like a bomb.

Rafe goes rigid, his face completely shuttering. Shiloh and the others let out low, warning growls that make the hair on my arms stand up. Even the older man's expression tightens.

But I just shrug. I've been called worse by better men than him.

At least he's being obvious about his insults instead of hiding them behind false compliments.

"Duke!" the older man says, clearly trying to defuse the tension. "Duke Miller, owner of Duke's Tavern and Grill. Best sandwiches in three counties, if I do say so myself."

"Not the Duke I was expecting," I mutter, thinking of Shiloh's dog, which makes Talon snort.

"Might as well come down to my restaurant," Duke continues, his eyes twinkling. "Unless the sweet, fierce omega is interested in sweets first?"

"Lead the way to the hefty sandwiches!" I declare, hooking my arm through his offered elbow. "We'll have to figure out what just happened over some late lunch."

Maybe having a full stomach is going to help figure out the riddle revolving around Lucky Ace’s ex-pack member…