This was the tricky part.

Usually by this point in a game every player involved could see which way the wind was blowing. Although Chance didn’t believe in luck, there was definitely something to be said for bad mojo, and a disproportionate number of poker players bought into it. Nothing fucks up your game like feeling you’ve been cursed.

On the other hand, a winning streak could have the opposite effect. It could make a player bolder than he normally would be, and more often than not it played out. After all, bluffing was an integral part of the game.

Right now, the players on either side of Chance were on opposite ends of that spectrum. Leo was losing hard and fast. Those glasses of his were getting wiped more furiously than ever.

Peter was cool as a polar bear’s toenail. He was ahead of Chance by quite a bit.

That was fine. Let the man think he actually had control of the situation. Keep him nice and calm and, most importantly, completely unaware of the card that Chance had up his sleeve. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Chance had done what he needed to do to win this game. Now it was time to put it into action before either Leo or Peter, both starting to get too heavily invested in their respective streaks, did something stupid.

That’s when Peter threw him for a loop.

“So what did you think of that picture of the McCoys at Coney Island, Leo?” he asked, looking over at Leo with those dark, soulless eyes.

Both Leo and Chance looked up at Peter in surprise. Even though Leo had on those sunglasses, Chance could practically see his eyes narrowing, as if wondering where Peter was going with this.

“Chance’s mother, she has nice legs no?”

Leo was smart enough not to respond. Chance was smart enough to keep his poker face on.

“Everyone used to go on and on about those legs. Once upon a time those legs were wrapped around my waist, sometimes thrown over my shoulders.”

So it was Chance he was trying to bait. Most people wouldn’t have noticed how Leo’s shoulders ever so slightly relaxed, or how Chance’s ever so slightly tensed.

But the question still remained: how did he know Leo had even seen the photo?

“I raise,” Chance said, pretending to ignore Peter as he added his chips to the pot.

Peter just continued on. “I have to say I was almost sorry to give that photo up. Holding onto it was a personal point of pride. Alas, my guy needed proof to hand over to you, so I parted with it.”

“What?” Leo said, stupidly playing into Peter’s hands.

Shut the hell up, for fuck’s sake.

Chance willed Leo to settle down and collect himself. The more addled Leo was, the more likely he was to do something rash. It was his turn at play, but the game was officially on hold thanks to this little detour.

Chance himself was surprised. The way Chip had put it, Leo was the one who had sought out the guy who had the photo and ring.

Peter raised his eyebrows and Chance saw the hint of a smile whisper across his lips. “You didn’t think it was pure chance that you happened to hear about the murder and how you could obtain the proof, did you?”

Leo just stared, his lips slightly parted before he caught himself and relaxed back into his seat. It was too late, he had already given himself away.

Neither of them were foolish enough to ask the question that was on both of their minds: Why?

Why would Peter deliberately hand over proof of what had happened to Chance’s father to Leo? Especially when he knew that it might get back to the McCoys, and eventually perhaps the Vasilievs.

Fortunately neither of them needed to ask.

“Do you know what game I play even better than poker? Chess. I always think several steps ahead.” He actually tapped his temple with one finger. “I knew you wanted me eliminated as a contender for the Houston territory. I knew you had the McCoy boys by the balls with that little debt of theirs. What better way to get to the Vasilievs than through them?”

“But you forgot one tiny little detail,” Peter looked at Leo with eyes that were like coal. “The McCoy’s aren’t Vasilievs.”

Now he focused his attention on Chance. “No one from New York was going to come in and avenge them. Not for the life of a McCoy. Not even for little Katya herself.”

Chance didn’t fall for it the same way that Leo had. He turned to Leo, ignoring Peter. “You’re up.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Leo spat, still staring at Peter.

Peter just looked at him and laughed. “Like their father, the McCoys are rash and stupid. You doing that number on Chip was just the icing on the cake.” He turned to Chance. “I had counted on the picture and ring to be enough to prod this one into ending up here at this table along with you. Thankfully, his brother helped me out.”

So that explained it. Peter was smart enough to know the Vasilievs wouldn’t step in, but figured either Chance or Chip would want some form of revenge. He probably figured he was too big to kill, so one or both of them would settle on this game of poker.

If Peter thought this game was the end of it, he was sorely mistaken.

“Speaking of legs,” Peter said, shifting topics. “I noticed your little bird’s aren’t half bad. The black one? Did you really think that little display in front of Jacob fooled anyone? I’m sure he is enjoying her legs right now. Did she like the bear I sent her?”

It was all Chance could do not to leap out of his chair and act on the first instinct that had almost overtaken him when he first shook hands with the man. His hands itched to wrap around that thick neck and squeeze until Peter was blue in the face. Maybe then there would actually be something human in those eyes…right before the life left them.

Peter leaned in ever so slightly. “In fact, I’m sure he is having plenty of fun with more than just her legs while he can.”

When you feel your emotions coming, think of me. That’s when your eyes are the calmest.

He thought of those brown shoulders glowing in the dim light of the gems and minerals exhibit. He thought of Juliet’s sleepy smile as he went off back to the rig. He thought of the animation in her voice when she talked about baseball. He thought of that smile, the genuine one that took over her whole face, making it shine brighter than a supernova.

Was she already dead?

Did Jacob have his fitly hands all over her?

You’ll be safe here. His own words were killing him now.

If he left now, he’d give himself away. Peter would find a way to get in touch with Jacob quicker than Chance could get there, cell phone ban or not. Hell, he probably had people watching the place from outside waiting on that exact thing to happen so they could warn Jacob off. She’d be dead by the time Chance made it to the highway. He’d probably even have enough time to get rid of the body.

No, his best bet was to play it cool and hope Peter bought it. At the very least it would buy him some time, hopefully Juliet as well.

He turned to Peter with a gaze that was as calm as the eye of a storm.

“If you think that piece of ass means more to me than this three million dollar jackpot, you’re even dumber than you look.”