Page 8 of Silent Schemes

Then she shuffles the deck, hands trembling just a little.

The game is on.

The whole room feels it.

I lean back, savor the moment.

This is what I live for.

The dealer starts the next game when she waves her hand.

He knows not to speak unless spoken to, so he simply nods, dealing the next hand like nothing in the world has changed.

But everything has.

The other players at the table shift in their seats.

The city councilman wipes his brow with a handkerchief and mutters something about the air conditioning.

The pair of Bulgarians shoot glances my way and then quickly away.

Everyone feels the heat, the way a real threat distorts the whole room.

Sienna is unfazed.

At least, she plays it that way.

“Didn’t think you were the gambling type,” she says, voice flat, bored.

But her eyes measure every part of me.

I ignore the question. “You’re better at this than your father.”

She lets another laugh slip.

Another real one. “My father can’t bluff to save his life.” She flicks a card in my direction. “Can you?”

I pick up my card, look at it, and don’t bother hiding my expression.

Queen of hearts. On another night, I’d appreciate the irony.

“We’re all bluffing,” I say. “Most people just aren’t any good at it.”

The dealer sets down the river card.

King of spades.

I don’t miss the twitch of Sienna’s left eye.

“Raise,” she says, sliding a fat stack into the pot.

I match it, then double. “You sure you’re ready to play with the big boys?”

She stares at the chips, her lips curving into something dangerous. “I play to win, Mr. Bane.”

A little shiver runs around the table.

Someone coughs, another stands up, feigning a call.