Read Online Hold ’Em Hostage by Jackie Chance - Free Book Online Page B

hear.”
    â€œFrom whom?”
    â€œOh no.” Mulish set to jaw. “I’m not telling you. I protect my sources.”
    Of course. “You ambush a poor, helpless woman in a dark corner and protect a big, burly gun-toting cop. How chivalrous.”
    â€œI work for the American public and the First Amendment, not for the Knights of the Round Table.”
    Okay, a shrimp and a smart-ass. Just my luck. Grr. Time to change tactics. “Look, do you know Jack Smack?”
    â€œSure, the Smack is my hero! He’s been on network TV and everything. With Diane.”
    â€œThen run along and give him a ring. He’s my publicist. He’ll give you a comment.”
    Pip-squeak shook his head, throwing a hank of greasy hair into his eye. He brushed it away. “He can’t be. That’s an ethical violation. It would undermine his ability to remain neutral in his reporting if he was on someone’s payroll as a flack.”
    Damn this little news-hunting bulldog. The bells outside the WSOP room tolled to mark five minutes to the start of the tournament. Finally, my karma was turning. I squinted at his credentials. “Sorry, Aaron, but I have to find my table.”
    He shrugged and stepped back so I could pass, giving up so easily it made me nervous. “Good luck.”
    I frowned at him as I passed. “Thank you.”
    â€œYou’re welcome, although luck might not do you any good since the cops expect to have enough evidence against you to put you behind bars by nightfall.”
    I spun around to see him wave and scoot off down the hall. Goody. Painful as it was, I scanned my appearance in the glass along the gift shop, flecked a piece of lint off the right cuff of the shorts, smoothed a smear off the left pump, tucked a bit of my chestnut hair back into its braid and strode toward the ballroom, fighting a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Before I reached the door I was set upon by a couple dozen fans and autograph seekers. I signed playing cards, markers, T-shirts, programs but drew the line at one man’s bare, hairy exposed shoulder. Fame was highly overrated. A railbird named Thelma whom I’d met at the tournament in Tunica walked with me to the door, talking fast and low. “My cash flow has a clog currently, Bee Cool. I was hoping you could float me a loan so I could go rake it in at one of the big cash games going down at Neptune’s.”
    Flush from my first win, I’d once given money to a railbird with a sad story and a promise of payback only to be chastised by Frank as being a fool. A fact proven at my next tournament when I found myself surrounded by sad stories, and needless to say never saw that loaner 2K again. Yet, as I shook my head at Thelma, I was struck with an inspiration. “I might be able to help with a couple hundred, but only if you can do something for me in return.”
    Thelma nodded eagerly. She was whip thin, so ageless she could be anywhere from twenty to sixty and of indeterminate ethnicity. Sometimes she looked decidedly Asian, other times I saw some Indian in her and other times she looked as Caucasian as a Midwestern farm wife. Her colorless Dollar Store cotton shift and canvas slip-on shoes made her even more invisible. A human chameleon might be worth putting on the payroll. “Keep your ears open for any mentions of me. Something wrong is going down here this week, and I want to know what it is. I want to know why my name is associated with it. Can you do that?”
    Again she nodded and stuck her hand out. I knew I’d never see the George Washingtons again, but I knew if she wanted more she would have to produce what I asked for. I was going codependent for her gambling and begging addiction but I was desperate.
    As I entered the room, I heard the commentators from Poker Live .
    â€œAnd now here is the other half of the Twin Terrifics—Belinda ‘Bee Cool’ Cooley.”
    â€œNow, Phil, you