Harm's Way: Riot MC Biloxi by Karen Renee (best e book reader .TXT) 📕

hadn’t been kidding. Har’s place was like staying at the Taj Majal compared to my efficiency.

The landlord hadn’t returned any of my calls that Sunday, but when he called on Monday, Har happened to hear me arguing with the man. When the landlord hung up, Har took my phone so he could see the number. Then he called the landlord from his phone.

“Yeah, you aren’t charging Ms. Combes for any of the damage to that unit. You owe her for damage to her property, but she’s letting it slide. You push this, you’re gonna get a visit from the fire inspector and code enforcement.”

Late the next afternoon, Har told me to check my bank balance, and my security deposit had been returned to me. When I went to thank him, I heard his bike roar out of the garage.

I hadn’t seen him since. Not that I expected to see him every day.

Still.

I was starting to think he was avoiding me.

It was a Friday night, and on occasion groups of players would come to the poker room wanting a table for just themselves. For a fee, guests can have nearly anything at a casino, so bachelor parties would pay extra for all nine or ten guys to play together.

Tonight, a bachelorette party had paid for a separate table, and I was dealing to them. There were nine of them, and the floor director instructed me that if one of them left the table or lost her chips, I was to indicate I had a seat open on the electronic device which communicated to the front counter. Their privacy only went so far.

All of them were drinking, but I noticed a couple of them were well on their way to blotto. The bachelorette raised after a flop, and one of the very tipsy girls called her. A Jack of spades came on the turn, and after the bachelorette checked, her opponent shoved all her chips in.

I put the All-In marker on the table for the camera above the table, and waited for a decision from the bachelorette.

“You’re just trying to get away from the table aren’t you, Amy?”

Amy giggled more than necessary. “No... I would never do something like that.”

“Bitch, you lie,” a red-head sitting next to her muttered.

The bachelorette called and won the pot.

“I’ll be at the bar, bitches.”

I pressed the open seat button while watching Amy meander to a small bar adjacent to the cashier counter. A few men were milling about awaiting table assignments.

“Well, that didn’t take long,” the redhead said.

I shifted the small and big blind buttons, collected the cards, and switched them out with a new deck from the in-table card shuffler.

A couple of hands went by, but the redhead’s eyes kept straying to the bar keeping an eye on Amy.

“Is she crazy?” the bachelorette asked the redhead.

The red-head’s expression shifted to assessing. “I don’t think so. That guy’s hot.”

The bachelorette made big eyes at her. “But he’s a biker.”

I glanced over my shoulder to see Amy flirting with Brute, and I grinned.

“He's fine. You got nothing to worry about, he's my former stepbrother.”

I looked up realizing I probably shouldn’t have said anything, plus where there was Brute, Har was often close by too.  My expression shifted and the redhead picked up on it.

“What's wrong?”

I grinned. “Nothing. You’re small blind.”

After another hand, I felt a tap on my shoulder and Charlie Huntley stood to my left to relieve me. I tapped my tip box, wished the ladies luck, and moved on to another table. On my way to the next table, I saw Brute smiling at Amy. He seemed to be here alone, so maybe Har wasn’t around. I shook my head at myself.

I had to stop thinking about him.

To my surprise, I found myself back at the bachelorette table ninety minutes later. All eight of them were still there.

Joining each table was a lot like dropping in on a new party. Conversations were happening or people would circle back to prior conversations and I’d have no idea what they were talking about. This happened as I settled at the table.

The redhead was talking to one of the other women. “We’re talking about Snickers here, Mia! It’s like any good dick, it has to be thick.”

I bit my tongue to keep from laughing, but even though she hadn’t looked at me, the red-head cried out, “See! Even the dealer knows I’m right because she’s laughing.”

I straightened my face and shook my head.

Her blue eyes narrowed. “You can’t deny it!”

With my most sober expression, I said, “No, I found the rhyme scheme funny. Snickers, dick, thick.”

“You’re lying! And you were lying earlier when your face paled when Amy saw your stepbrother.”

I nodded because as they say, the customer is always right. “You caught me, but that was because I figured his buddy is probably here too.”

Her eyes lit. “Yeah, so? Is he hot?”

“Criminally,” I blurted.

She grinned. “Now I want to see this guy. He play poker? Is he here?”

I shook my head. “Didn’t see him. But, yeah, he plays poker.”

“He any good?”

I grinned. “He’s exceptional. Except he sucks out.”

A devious grin hit her lips. “On the river, or on you?”

I felt my cheeks heat with embarrassment. “The former. I wouldn’t know about the latter.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw masculine hands set a plastic tray of chips on the table at the empty nine-seat position.

“Oh, I do both Stephanie. Don’t you worry about that,” Har said as he sat down.

Red shot him a sultry look. “Well, damn. Who are you? Do you dance? Because you look ten times better than those cardboard cut-outs for the male review.”

When he chuckled, I couldn’t help but glance up, to see his eyes twinkling at the woman.

Bastard.

I took a deep breath to get rid of that thought. I normally didn’t do jealousy because it was never pretty.

My thirty minutes dealing at that table felt like an eternity. When Charlie tapped my shoulder he said, “Hey, Har.”

Har gave him a chin