Chapter Seven

C ori

Cori studied her cards, the weight of Remy's presence behind her a constant reminder of the high stakes at play. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her every move, ready to intervene at a moment's notice. The knowledge of his unwavering support bolstered her confidence, even as the pressure of the situation threatened to overwhelm her.

She glanced up at Blackwell. He wasn't a bad player, but he let his emotions rule him during the game. Even the most skilled players had their tells, their moments of weakness that could be exploited. But Cori wasn't here for that. She was here to get him to trust her with his not so legal business deals that the FBI had briefed her on.

As they played a few more hands, folding when the cards weren't worth matching the big blind, Cori's mind raced, searching for an opening. She needed to get Blackwell talking without arousing his suspicions.

Blackwell seemed relaxed, almost bored, as if the millions of dollars at stake were nothing more than a casual bet. But Cori knew better. She could see the glint of calculation in his eyes, the coiled tension in his shoulders that belied his outward calm.

"You know," she said casually, keeping her voice low and conversational, "I heard a rumor the other day about a big-time drug dealer who went missing."

Blackwell's eyes flickered up to meet hers, a hint of interest sparking in their depths. "Oh?" he said, his tone carefully neutral. "And what did this rumor say?"

Cori shrugged, her fingers toying with her chips as she feigned nonchalance. "Not much, really. Just that the guy disappeared without a trace. Some people think he got taken out by a rival, you know? Just goes to show, even the biggest players in the game aren't untouchable."

She could feel Remy's gaze boring into her back, his posture no doubt stiffening at the mention of drug dealers and disappearances. But she forced herself to stay focused on Blackwell, to watch for any flicker of recognition or unease in his expression.

For a moment, Blackwell's face remained impassive, his eyes unreadable. But then, almost imperceptibly, the corner of his mouth twitched, a flash of something dark and dangerous crossing his features.

"It's a risky business," he said, his voice low and smooth. "But then again, so is poker. You never know when your luck might run out."

Cori's heart skipped a beat, her fingers tightening on her cards. It wasn't quite an admission of guilt, but it was more than Blackwell had revealed so far. She could sense Remy's tension behind her, his body coiled like a spring, ready to act at the slightest provocation.

She forced herself to smile, to keep her voice light and casual. "I guess you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Damien? I mean, a man in your position must have had his fair share of close calls over the years."

Blackwell's eyes narrowed, his gaze sharpening as he studied her face. For a moment, Cori feared that she had pushed too far, that she had tipped her hand and revealed her true intentions. But then, almost imperceptibly, Blackwell's shoulders relaxed, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"We've all had our moments," he said, his voice almost conspiratorial. "But the trick is to always stay one step ahead of the game. To know when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em, as they say."

Cori nodded. "And how do you do that? How do you stay one step ahead in a business like yours? It can't be easy, what with the competition always breathing down your neck and rivals looking to take what's yours." She wondered if she was being too subtle. By competition, she had meant the authorities, but she didn't want to say that in front of the dealer. Even if he hadn't been an FBI agent, Blackwell wouldn't appreciate her mentioning that in front of anyone else.

Blackwell's smile widened, his eyes glinting with a dark amusement. "I'm very good at making problems disappear. And as for the competition ? I have friends in high places who make sure that I stay out of trouble."

Cori's breath caught in her throat. He had someone on the inside, someone in law enforcement. How safe was she then?

"Speaking of friends, where did your two friends go after the poker game? I've been looking for a chance to get even with them too."

She tried not to sag in relief. If he was asking about Harv, he didn't know that Harv was an undercover. "As I said, I don't know them very well. Harv is probably in Vegas and Ryder ..." Cori shrugged. "She could be anywhere."

Blackwell grunted.

"Maybe you scared them off. You almost scared me off. What would you have done if your guards had brought me to you the other night?"

She could still feel Remy's presence behind her and knew that he was ready to act, to take Blackwell down at a moment's notice. But she also knew that they needed more. They needed to keep Blackwell talking if she was ever going to get out of this mess and give the feds what they needed.

"We would have had a serious discussion about the poker table."

"We can have that discussion now."

"I've seen what I need to."

She forced herself to smile even though she was frustrated as hell. "Well, it sounds like you've got it all figured out."

Blackwell chuckled, his eyes glinting with a dark humor. "Oh, I don't know about that, Syndi," he said, using the pseudonym she had introduced herself to him as. "From what I've seen, you're quite the player. Maybe one day, you'll be the one sitting in my seat, calling the shots and making the rules."

"Maybe one day. But I would need a mentor. Someone to help me through the beginning stages of things."

"Is that right?" And with that, he turned his attention back to the game, his fingers deftly shuffling his chips as he studied the cards on the table.

***

R EMY

"We'll take a twenty-minute break," the dealer announced, his voice cutting through the tense silence of the room. "Please feel free to stretch your legs or refresh your drinks." With that, the dealer rose from his seat, his movements smooth and graceful as he exited the room.

Remy glanced over at Cori, taking in the way her blonde wig fell in soft waves around her face, the way her black dress clung to her curves. She looked every inch the confident, self-assured poker player, but he could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers twitched nervously against the green felt of the table.

He wanted nothing more than to beat a confession out of Damien Blackwell, but that wouldn't hold up in court, and his two goons might have something to say about that. He also wanted to whisk Cori to safety and to hell with the FBI. But that wasn't his call, so he had to maintain his cover, to play the role of the dutiful bodyguard, even as every instinct in his body screamed at him to protect her.

Blackwell leaned back in his chair, his eyes flicking between Cori and Remy with a calculating gaze. Remy could see the wheels turning in his head, the way he was sizing them up, trying to determine their weaknesses and vulnerabilities.

"I'm impressed by your skills at the table. It's not often that I meet a woman who can hold her own against me. I would have sworn you had rigged the game last time," Blackwell said.

Cori smiled, the gesture cool and confident, even as Remy could see the way her fingers tightened on the edge of the table. "I've always believed that a woman can do anything a man can do, and usually better."

"I don't doubt it," he said, his eyes raking over Cori's form with a predatory gleam. Remy really did want to punch him in the face. "In fact, I've been looking for someone with your particular set of skills for a while now."

Gotcha.

But Cori didn't flinch, her gaze steady and unwavering as she met Blackwell's eyes. "Oh?" she said, her voice tinged with just the right amount of curiosity. "And what skills might those be?"

Blackwell leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he fixed Cori with an intense stare. "I have a friend ," he said, his voice low and conspiratorial, "who's in the market for a new distributor. Someone who can move a lot of high-quality product. I think you might be just the person he's looking for. You've got a way about you."

This was the moment they had been waiting for. If Cori could get Blackwell to reveal more about his drug operation, the FBI would have all the evidence they wanted, and Cori would be free and clear. But he also knew that it was a dangerous game; one wrong move could blow their cover and put Cori's life in jeopardy. He fought the urge to intervene, to step in and take control of the situation. He had to trust Cori and believe in her ability to handle Blackwell on her own terms.

Cori leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful as she studied Blackwell's face. "And what makes you think I'd be interested in something like that?" she asked, her voice casual, almost bored. "I'm a poker player, Mr. Blackwell, not a saleswoman."

"We both know that there's more to you than meets the eye. A woman with your talents, your connections? I'm sure you could find a way to make it work."

Remy's fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening as he fought the urge to wipe the smirk off Blackwell's face. He hated the way the man looked at Cori, the way he spoke to her as if she was just another pawn in his twisted game.

But Cori didn't flinch, her gaze steady and unwavering. "Perhaps. If I were to consider your offer, I'd need to know that it was worth my time and effort."

"The rewards would be more than worth your while. My friend is a very generous man, and he's always looking for new talent to add to his organization."

"And what kind of organization are we talking about? What product are would I be selling? If I'm going to be putting my reputation on the line, I need to know that I'm working with professionals."

"My friend's organization is the very definition of professional. They've been in the business for a long time, and they know how to get things done. As for the product ..." He gave a half shrug. "It's a much-valued commodity."

Blackwell wasn't giving her a lot to go on. So far it was all innuendo.

"And what exactly would my role be in this organization? I mean, I'm not just going to be some glorified drug mule, am I?"

Remy bit back a curse. The only time drugs had been mentioned was by Cori.

"You'd be a key player in the organization, someone with the power to make things happen."

"I'll have to think about it," she said.

"Take all the time you need. But don't take too long. My friend isn't a patient man."

With that, Blackwell rose from his seat, his movements smooth and graceful as he straightened his suit jacket. "I'm going to get some fresh air. Maybe make a phone call or two. I have a feeling that this could be the beginning of a very profitable partnership."

And with that, he turned and walked out of the room, his bodyguards falling into step behind him. Remy watched them go, his mind racing with the implications of what had just happened.