Spade took her arm and then handed his drink to a waitress who seemed to appear by magic.
"Bring that to the table for me, would you? And keep them coming."
Spade pretended to study his hand in front of him, though he'd had his cards memorized at first glance. He was really concentrating on Madox, the player opposite him. The oil executive was good at hiding his tells, but he was still human. His pulse might remain admirably steady and he managed not to sweat, but his scent betrayed him. When he went all in on this hand, Madox's scent turned into a mixture of musk and rotten orange. Just like every other time he'd bluffed.
Madox's eyelids drifted lower, like he was bored enough to fall asleep while he waited to see if Spade folded or not.
Spade let out an extended sigh, as if wrestling with the decision. "What to do?" he mused out loud.
Behind him, he could feel Denise's tension increase until her aura almost crackled with anxiety. Her jasmine and honey scent had soured as well in the past two hours, watching him lose hand after hand. She didn't know he was losing deliberately to bait the other players. He hadn't told her because he needed her reaction to be genuine or it would have roused suspicion in the observant gamblers.
But to her credit, Denise remained silent, even though she must be inwardly screaming at him to fold his hand. Poor girl. With her conscience needled over every pound he spent, she must be ill at the quid he'd turned over to his opponents thus far.
Madox's overripe citrus scent increased, but he didn't so much as twitch as he waited for Spade to fold or call.
"Sod it, I'll go out with a bang," Spade declared, sliding his remaining chips into the center of the table. "I'm in."
Denise took in an audible breath. Madox smiled and flipped his cards up.
"Two pair, hearts. And you, Mr. Mortimer?"
Spade laid his cards on the table with a wolfish grin. "Straight flush, spades."
Acrid disappointment wafted off Madox. The onlookers around the table clapped as Spade claimed the large pile of chips. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Denise sag a little, her grip on the back of his chair lessening.
Spade turned, taking Denise's hand and kissing it. "There, darling. Told you I felt lucky tonight."
She let out a little snort, giving his hand a quick squeeze. Then Spade felt the energy in the room shift, filling with the unmistakable vibe of an undead. Spade let go of Denise's hand and turned casually toward the source.
A vampire met his gaze; either his power was cloaked as Spade's was, or he was a lower-level Master. Judging by appearance, he'd been in his thirties when he was changed. His hair was dark brown, slicked back in a style best left in the seventies, and his outfit was an expensive mistake.
From the way the waitresses greeted him, he was also a familiar sight. Spade inclined his head in acknowledgment, and then returned his attention to lining his chips back up in his tray. He would come over. The vampire had to be curious to meet the man who just fleeced one of the regulars.
"Evenin'" the vampire said, taking the seat Madox had just vacated. "Looks like you're short a player."
Spade made mental notes about the other vampire. Faint Southern accent. Probably younger than me in undead years, but not by too much. "We certainly are. I do hope you join us. I find I've got a second wind despite the late hour."
Behind him, Denise's scent changed. She must have recognized the newcomer as not being human, too. Spade didn't look away from the man's ice-blue eyes, waiting. If the vampire didn't want him in what he might consider his territory, now would be the time to make that known.
But the vampire just smiled. "I'd swear it was still early with how I feel. Deal me in, Jackie, and Sam, bring me a tray. My usual amount."
The dealer shuffled the cards while the manager produced a tray of chips. Two hundred thousand, Spade noted. Very respectable for a "usual" amount.
"I'm Henry," Spade said, using the name his room was registered under.
"BJ," the vampire replied, reaching out to take the cards expertly flung in front of him.
Spade took his as well, not letting any reaction show as he observed the pale fingers that wrapped around those cards. BJ's left pinky finger was missing, but on his right, he had a thick gold ring with "21" emblazoned in diamonds.
This had to be Black Jack. Ian, mate, I owe you one.
Spade leaned back, sliding his arm around Denise's waist. "You don't mind waiting for a while longer, do you, darling?"
Her body was more tense than normal and her feet had to be sore, standing there for two hours in high heels, but Denise didn't hesitate in her reply.
"Not at all. I love to see you play."
Spade almost laughed. With her frugal tendencies, Denise couldn't despise this more, but her tone was steady and confident. She even leaned down, brushing her lips across his throat.
"Maybe we could find something else to do after we're done here, because I'm not tired, either."
Her voice was raspy and seductive at the same time, a low purr that seemed to rub him from the inside out. He'd only heard it that way once before, when she'd moaned his name in Central Park as he drank from her. Combined with the silky, heated feel of lips on his skin, it was enough to make him pause when he was supposed to ante up in the new game. Spade wanted to hear her voice like that again. When they were in bed together.
Black Jack's eyes flicked with interest to Denise. Spade saw it and stopped himself before he bared his fangs in instinctive possessiveness. Instead he tossed in a few chips and ran his hand along Denise's side one more time, meeting the vampire's gaze in challenge. Mine.
Black Jack's lips curled and he tilted his head in acknowledgment. One of the strongest vampire urges was territorialism. No vampire would tolerate someone ogling his property - unless that property was being offered. Denise, Spade had clearly indicated, was not.
"King high, first bet to BJ," the dealer said.
Spade forced himself to relax. The goal was to put Black Jack at ease, not to threaten him over a simple glance. He'd forgotten how falling for someone affected him - the absence of normal control, the emotional highs and lows. It was more consuming than even the most potent dose of Red Dragon, in his opinion.
"Come on, mate, give me more luck," Spade said to the dealer as cards were passed out.
He could have sent the same request to Fate about Denise.
Chapter Seventeen
When Spade stood up, announcing wryly that he was done for the night, Denise was so relieved she could have cheered. If she had to watch him gamble away any more staggering amounts of money, she'd throw up. BJ, the vampire she desperately hoped was Black Jack, had beaten Spade three times in a row, the last one clearing out all Spade's chips. While she understood he had to appear as a high roller with a limitless budget, she also wanted to shake Spade. Couldn't he be a little smarter about his betting? Who went all in with only a full house consisting of threes and twos?