Authors: Stephanie Bond
Wes grabbed her elbow and smiled at her friends. “Excuse
us. Meg promised to introduce me to someone I need to
talk to.”
She rol ed her eyes, but allowed him to lead her away.
“Did you have to scare my friends to death?”
“They were begging for it,” he muttered.
“You need to work on your social skil s.”
“Jett Logan,” he reminded her. He hated to rush things,
but his left eye was starting to twitch. The Oxy high was
sliding away quickly, and he was hoping to be back at
Chance’s place, trying to sleep through the worst of the
withdrawal. If he could get through the rest of the night
without hitting the Oxy tablets in his pocket, it would be a
smal victory.
“You never really said what you wanted with Jett.”
“No, I didn’t.”
She frowned. “Am I getting in the middle of something?”
“Absolutely not,” he said. “You’re going to point out the
guy, then pretend as if you don’t know me.”
“Gee, I’m so glad this turned out not to be a date,” she
said dryly.
Wes swallowed hard. Once he’d told Coop if he liked
Carlotta, he needed to do something bold. Considering the
hole he’d dug for himself, now seemed like a good time to
fol ow his own advice.
Wesley stopped and walked Meg back a step against the
wall. Then he kissed her. She made a startled noise and
stiffened for a second, then softened as he plied her
mouth with his tongue, and began to kiss him back. Her
lips tasted like Cherry Coke and her tongue was a silk
ribbon. God, if he had this mouth to kiss any time he
wanted, he could be king.
When his lungs threatened to burst, he had to tear his lips
from hers and lift his head.
Meg was breathing as hard as he was. “Why…why did you
kiss me?”
He shrugged, trying to regain his composure. “To give you
something to think about.”
She straightened her clothing. “I’m thinking you shouldn’t
do that again.”
“You kissed me back,” he countered. The realization
buoyed his hope.
“I kiss all my cousins like that.”
He laughed. “Right. Admit it, it was good.”
“It was good,” she said, nodding. “But I’m not looking for a
guy who’s always in trouble.”
“Meg, is this clown bothering you?”
Wes looked up to see the guy he’d once seen out with
Meg standing there. Gay Boyfriend had traded his plaid
shorts for white pants—nice. Wes set his jaw. Clown?
“No,” Meg said quickly. “Mark, this is Wes. You two met at
the Vortex once, I think.”
“Oh, yeah,” Mark said. “You’re the one who rides a ten-
speed.”
Wes returned a little smile. “It’s not the horsepower you
got between your legs, man. It’s what you do with the
gearshift.”
“Uh, Mark, Wes was just leaving,” Meg said, giving Wes a
warning glance. “I need to introduce him to someone first,
then I’l be back.”
“I’ll wait for you here,” Mark said.
This time she grabbed Wes’s elbow and shepherded him
down the hall. “That was uncalled for.”
“Isn’t that dude a little old to be hanging out at frat
parties?”
“Mark is an ATO alumnus. He comes back to chaperone.”
“A convenient cover for pervs.”
“Mark is a successful architect,” Meg said. “He’s going
places.”
“I’m happy for him,” Wes said.
She made a frustrated noise. “God, you can be such a jerk
sometimes.”
“So I’ve been told, by you. Just point out Logan and you
can get back to Marky Mark.”
Her chin came up, but she didn’t respond. Wes swung his
head side to side, hoping to catch a glimpse of his target,
although all he’d seen of Logan was the guy’s back as he’d
flung himself out the second floor window of his dorm.
They walked all through the house, then doubled back.
Finally, Meg nodded across the room. “That’s Jett Logan in
the yel ow-flowered shirt.”
Wes zeroed in on the guy like a laser beam. He had the
same general build as the guy who’d gone out the
window—short and stocky, and sporting a wrapped ankle
that might have been the result of a hard landing. “You’re
sure that’s him?”
“Yeah, that’s Jett. I heard he got kicked out of school and
he’s leaving town. What’s going on?”
“I just want to talk to him,” Wes said, then looked down at
her. “You should go back to your friends.”
Her mouth tightened. “You’re welcome.”
“Thanks,” he said. “For the kiss.”
Meg gave him a wary look, then turned and walked away.
Wes watched her go, nursing a pang. If things went wel
with Logan, maybe he’d find Meg again, stay with her and
walk her home later. Then he lifted his glasses and
massaged the bridge of his nose against the pain
mushrooming there. His hand shook, and the eye twitch
was getting worse. Who was he kidding? Meg had said she
didn’t want a guy who was always in trouble. Somehow he
doubted she’d be wil ing to overlook the drugs, the issue
with his dad, his massive gambling debt, and his
undercover work for a loan shark.
He should just let things end here. If he kept pissing her
off, she was bound to turn him in for prying into the city
databases at work.
Wes positioned himself across the room where he could
watch Logan. Jett was a smug little bul dog who carried
himself like someone who was entitled to the best. From
the rosy glow on the guy’s snub face, he’d already had a
lot to drink, and the beer in the clear cup he held was
down to about an inch. Wes bided his time and shortly, he
saw Logan break away from his group and go in search of,
presumably, a bathroom.
Wes fol owed him to the john, managing to get his foot in
the door, then wedge himself inside. “Jett Logan?”
“Yeah.” The guy stumbled against the opposite wall, hands
up. “What the hel , man? I’m not gay.”
“I’m not, either,” Wesley said. “But I’l settle for happy.
You owe The Carver ten grand. I’m here to col ect.”
Jett’s eyes widened. “I don’t have it.” He gave Wesley the
once-over, as if trying to size up whether he could take
him in a fight.
“Dude, stop wasting time. I got a headache, and you gotta
take a piss. Just pay me and I’m outta here.”
“I’l have it tomorrow,” Jett said, a pathetic attempt at a
bluff.
“Nice try, but The Carver knows you’re leaving town.” Wes
sighed. “Look, man, you can either pay me and walk out of
here with your porcelain veneers intact, or you can take
your chances with my partner, Mouse, who has about a
hundred pounds on me and wil be waiting for you with a
golf club when you leave.”
From his pocket, the red phone vibrated. Wes pul ed it
out. “See, that’s him now. Should I answer and tel him
you’re being an asshole?”
Jett paled. “No. I’l pay.”
“Good decision,” Wes said, stowing the phone.
Jett removed a thick wad of money from a back pocket
and handed it over. “It’s all there.”
Wes counted it, then nodded and shoved it into a deep
pants pocket. “Dude, if you had the money, why didn’t you
just pay up? Most of the guys who owe The Carver are flat
fucking broke.”
Jett sat down on the toilet lid, his head in his hands.
“Because I just won it last night. I was going to another
card game tonight to double it. Then I was going to pay
back The Carver and keep ten for myself.”
Wes pursed his mouth. “What kind of card game?”
“Texas Hold ’Em. There’s a game going on at a house on
the edge of campus, a sure thing.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It’s a dog track, man, with a bunch of trust fund kids.”
Meaning the players were all novices who would bet
without regard. Easy pickings.
“You play?” Jett asked.
“Some,” Wesley hedged.
“Someone should go,” the guy said, gesturing to the door.
“It’s all yours if you want it.” He rattled off the address.
Wes hesitated a split second, then said, “No, thanks,” and
left the bathroom, his head throbbing like a bass drum.
On the way outside, he looked for Meg and spotted her
talking to Mark. They seemed absorbed in each other. He
was probably the kind of guy Meg was looking for. Anger
coursed through Wesley that things came easy for jerks
like Mark. He probably came from family money and used
it to catapult himself to success.
One of these days, Wes told himself…
His mind went back to the card game just a few blocks
away. He imagined the newbies sitting around a table,
with the rank of winning hands printed on an index card as
a cheat sheet. A warm sensation swirled in his stomach
and chest—a chance like this didn’t come around very
often. He’d be crazy not to relieve al those rich col ege
boys of their daddies’ money.
But he’d promised Carlotta he’d stop gambling. Besides,
he didn’t have any money.
You have ten grand in your pocket, his mind whispered. He
could take a portion of the money and double it. Then he’d
give Mouse the ten grand Logan owed The Carver, and
keep the rest for himself. A cake walk.
He gave Meg one last glance, then left the house, his heart
thumping in anticipation. The last time he’d played, he’d
won big, had taken first place in a tournament and split
the earnings with Chance. But this time, he could keep all
of his winnings, and maybe replace the money that
Michael Lane had stolen out of his sock drawer. Carlotta
would be so happy to have some extra cash to fix up the
townhouse.
The address where the game was being played was a short
bike ride away. Wes told himself that he’d simply cruise by
and check it out. When he arrived, he told the guy who
answered the door that Jett had sent him and he was
welcomed into the group. Within a few minutes, he’d sized
up the crowd to be just as inexperienced as Logan had
suggested.
Only one thing was missing.
In his last card game, he’d been high on Oxy. It had given
him a single-minded confidence he’d never known before.
Even better, the cards had sailed his way, as if he were
calling to them. And he had to get rid of this headache
before the cards hit the table.
Before he sat down, he furtively popped a whole Oxy
tablet into his mouth, then chewed, nearly groaning with
ecstasy as sensations flooded his pleasure centers. When
the first hand was dealt, he picked up his pocket cards, and
smiled inwardly at the aces winking back.
It was an auspicious beginning to a tragic evening.
Any good pocket cards he got were fol owed up with ugly
community cards. His pair of aces was shot down with
three deuces. The idiots at the table didn’t know how to
bet, which screwed up the pot and messed with his
momentum. His irritation led him to make stupid mistakes,
like seeing hearts where there were diamonds, kings
where there were jacks.
Halfway through the game he was losing money and
concentration, so he chewed another hit of Oxy. But
instead of returning his pleasant, happy high and laser
focus, the dose slowed him down. Everything seemed
gluey and distorted. The cards felt thick and unwieldy in
his hands. He had problems keeping up with the bets, and
couldn’t recal if a flush beat a straight. Because he
misread tel s—body language from other players that
hinted at the strength of their hand—he wound up
bluffing when he shouldn’t, and holding when he
should’ve folded. He played like a rube.
And in under two hours, he lost it all.
When Wesley saw the last of The Carver’s money being
raked away by some schmuck named Baron wearing a
Rolex, he panicked. He’d just lost ten thousand dol ars that
belonged to a man who’d earned a reputation by cutting
people into pieces. He pushed to his feet and stumbled out
of the house where he threw up in the bushes.
He sat down on the ground in the shadows of the house
and tried to breathe. His mind chugged, desperately
searching for a way out. Then he brightened—he could
borrow the money from Chance. He dug out his main cel
phone while staring at the screen of the dedicated phone
that Mouse had given him. Damn, the big man had called
three times.
Wes clumsily punched in Chance’s number and prayed
while the phone rang. “Come on…come on,” he pleaded,
but Chance didn’t answer. Probably banging Hannah.
Wes cursed and held his heavy head in his hands, trying to
think. The red phone vibrated, the screen flashing
insistently. Wesley groaned and started to press “decline.”
Then he stopped. Something was working hard to push
through the fog in his brain. Finally the thought slid into
place.
Mouse didn’t know he’d col ected the money. Jett was on
his way out of town. All he had to do was pretend he
hadn’t found the guy. The Carver would be upset, but that
was better than admitting he’d lost the man’s money in a
damn card game.
With his mind made up, he connected the call. “Yeah,
Mouse?”
“Where you been?”
“Looking for Logan, man. He’s Mr. Invisible. I’ve been all