The Angels' Share (The Bourbon Kings #2) - J. R. Ward Page 0,153

under herself, she kept looking at the key. “What’s in the safe-deposit box?”

“I’m not going to tell you. You’ll find out when you’re supposed to.”

“I think I want to go up and take my exams there. It’ll be easier. And I can say good-bye to people in less of a rush.”

“Okay. Then we’ll depart together after the funeral. How long do you think the tests will take?”

“Oh, God, like ten days.”

“All right. I’ll come back here and then make another trip up to get you and your things. After that, we’ll get you registered at Charlemont Country Day for the fall semester.”

Amelia’s eyes were narrowed when she finally looked up again. “What’s the catch?”

“There isn’t one. There’s no catch at all. And I have no expectations for our relationship, either. Other than making sure you stay in school.”

The girl took a deep breath … and tucked the little odd key into her jeans pocket. “Okay. All right. That’s … our plan.”

Gin closed her eyes in relief … as down the hall, a bunch of hollering rolled out from the game room.

“Good,” she whispered to her daughter. “This is good.”

FIFTY-ONE

It was the most expensive game of seesaw Lane had ever been associated with.

And John was a hell of a poker player, amazingly composed, especially as he settled in. He was smart, decisive, never lost his temper—and one hundred percent a rule abider.

Gave you a good idea of why he was so successful at his business.

In the end, after hours of playing, they were neck and neck. Lane was making no mistakes, but neither was John. There had been straights and flushes, a three of a kind, two pairs, full houses … the tide rolling in one direction before self-correcting and changing course.

Over in the line-up of witnesses, Lizzie was clearly exhausted. And Miss Aurora was even holding on to Lizzie’s forearm as things appeared like they were going to go on forever.

But the end did come—and seemingly from out of nowhere.

“My deal,” the Grain God said as he gathered the cards from his latest winning hand. “You ready for me?”

“Always.”

John dealt the cards, and Lane looked at what he got.

He had … the two of hearts. And … the ace of spades.

Okay, so maybe he was working a flush here. At the very least, he had a high card.

He put in his big blind. John did the same with the little blind. And then there was a knock from John. Lane held tight and knocked as well.

First of the flop was a ten of diamonds.

Second of the flop was the eight of diamonds.

Fuck.

Then the ace of diamonds landed—which was good news. Kind of.

And yup, John liked that card, too, or at least seemed to, going by his nod. “Okay. I’m going to …”

Lane’s heart started beating. And he knew it before the guy even said the words.

“I’m going all in.”

So he had a flush. Which beat a pair of aces every day of the week and twice on Sunday. Also beat three of a kind. Lane’s only chance was a full house.

As the people in the room gasped, Lane was dimly aware of Gin and Amelia coming in and finding seats. They both seemed surprised as there was some whispering as people brought them up to speed—and then the two of them looked downright shocked as they clearly got the full story.

“I’ll see you,” Lane said as he pushed his chips forward. “Let’s get the turn and the river and let God decide.”

“Amen to that.”

John put his two cards down, and yup, his king and two of diamonds were a powerful twosome. In response, Lane shared his ace and two of diamonds.

“Not bad,” John murmured.

“That’s ’cuz you’re winning,” Lane said with a wink.

Next card up was …

An ace of clubs.

“Oh, lookey-lookey.” John sat back, bracing the hand that wasn’t holding the deck on the table. “That’s a big one.”

“Depending on what the last one is, yessir.”

Lane was aware of his heart beginning to skip behind his sternum. There was no reason to hide any reaction on his part because the bets were in and the outcome predetermined at this point: there would be a card burned, and then whatever was up next was going to be the decider. End of story, no need to try and poker face this one.

And yet he didn’t want to let anything out, not the dread nor the excitement, superstition locking him in place as if his emotions might tip luck in a bad way for