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As for me, I’m listening to him reveal his hand.
Poker is one of the few pleasures I allowed myself as a bachelor. Half the time, I played it simply for the thrill of the bluff: reading other players’ tells, practicing concealing my own tics while lying through my teeth.
The trick to a successful bluff is to tell the truth and hang everything on it.
And then don’t panic when you find out someone else has been counting cards.
Smithson is panicking. His panic is making him sloppy. His sloppiness is revealing holes in his case that I have a sudden urge to poke.
And poke.
And poke.
Just to see the motherfucker unravel in real time.
“Who do I talk to about this ongoing investigation? Since you’re hanging everything on the word of an actual criminal—who was found guilty of attempted kidnapping, remember?”
He’s glaring at me with renewed fury. “We’re done here.”
I whip out my phone and open the note-taking app. “Hold on—I’ll just need that number and name of the best agent to discuss this with. I’m thinking now’s as good a time as any to reopen that espionage case, don’t you? Plus, that artist is missing. Who knows what Hamish might have done to him? You’ll need all this for your real investigations.”
“We’re done,” he sniffs. “Give my regards to your wife.”
Smithson signals for his people to pack it up and move it out. He turns on his heels and climbs into his SUV, glaring at me through the tinted windshield.
I smile and wave at him.
A gesture of gratitude.
I keep waving at his fleet of vehicles as they peel out, just leaning against my Charger as if I don’t have a care in the world.
As if I didn’t just figure out why Smithson’s so determined to do whatever Hamish demands.
35
PASHA
It would have been nice if my good mood lasted until I returned to the hotel.
Unfortunately, I have a habit of diving too deep into my own thoughts.
“Fuck.” I glance down at the cup in my hand when Daphne opens the door. “It’s melted.”
“It’s ice-cold juice. I love it.” She smiles and pulls me inside, happily accepting the cup of what was supposed to be a smoothie. “Everything okay? I was starting to worry.”
“Got held up. Nothing serious.”
“You’re here, and you’re safe. That’s what matters.” She sips her juice and bounces Taty in her other arm. “Right, sweetie? Daddy’s home!”
I’m in no mood to be good company, let alone a good father or husband. They don’t deserve to have their bright lights dimmed by my darkness. “I’ll be in the office,” I mutter under my breath as I move toward the suite’s furnished business room.
Daphne stops me with a hand to my chest. “Hold your daughter.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” She shifts Taty around and hands her to me. I’m unable to not take my baby without risking dropping her. “Now, go sit down. Snuggle our child. You’ll feel better.”
“I feel fine.”
