Page 19 of Four Cards Exposed

By the time he walked back out, the fighting area was empty, except for one poor guy who was mopping up the blood. Mostly his. James’s hand went unconsciously to the wound over his eyebrow.

He wondered what they’d done with the unconscious fighter. Hopefully, he was sleeping it off somewhere.

The party had moved upstairs. James knew he needed to find the guests and start mingling, as Moore had asked him to do.

But first, he had to find Moore—ask for his thirty thousand dollars, then get stitched up. That’s what Jay would do.

He caught sight of Moore’s lumbering form in one of the glass-walled poker rooms.

“Ah, our champion,” the man boomed. He pointed to a stack of bills on the table next to him. “I have your money here. You want to play a few hands?”

James scowled. “No, thank you. I can’t afford to lose this money.”

Moore laughed. “Or you could double it.”

“Leave the man alone, Sean,” said Miguel Mendoza. “Jay earned that money fair and square. I respect a man who won’t let himself be swayed by others.” The slight man touched his own eyebrow. “I could stitch that up for you,” he offered.

“Really?”

“I trained as a doctor in Mexico before—“

James didn’t ask him to finish the sentence. “I’d be grateful, Mr. Mendoza.”

“Call me Miguel. Follow me. We need to find the med bay.”

“Make sure you spend some time with our guests, Jay,” Moore said. “We’ll be back in three hours, which gives us a couple hours before we need to shut down the casino and the bar.”

James nodded. “Of course.”

Located on one of the lower decks, the med bay looked reasonably well equipped. Mendoza made clucking noises as he spread things on a disposable plastic napkin. The last thing he did was scrub his hands all the way up to his elbows. He then looked around, as if expecting a nurse to hand him sterile gloves. Then he shrugged gently.

“Well, this isn’t open-heart surgery.”

Somebody walked quickly past the open door.

James thought he recognized Susan, but then, he’d been seeing Susan all over the ship, ever since he first saw her. The woman who’d just walked by could be anyone.

“Ah, wait, señorita,” Mendoza called out.

Moments later, the woman popped her head back in.

Susan.

Her beautiful, dark brown eyes were framed by the thickest lashes he’d ever seen. The spot under her eyes was darker than the rest of her skin—as if she hadn’t been sleeping well.

She was also wearing heavier make-up than he’d ever seen on her before. Hers was a natural beauty—she didn’t need make-up.

James ground his molars when he realized he wasn’t the only one watching.

“Señor?” she asked, her voice soft and melodious.

“We need a bottle of vodka. Rápido.”

“Of course. I will be right back.” She didn’t even look in James’s direction before she turned around and walked out.

James had thought Susan’s backside spectacular in her khaki sheriff’s officer uniform, but tonight, wearing a skirt and high heels, she could make a grown man cry.

“I hope the vodka’s not for you,” James deadpanned.