Shoving out of my chair, I hurry out of the room, hoping to catch sight of Liam. He is nowhere. Damn, that man is fast. Because I don’t really know where else he might go, I head straight for Connor’s gambling hall upstairs, praying he’s there. I need to do damage control.
When I walk into the gambling hall, my eyes land on Connor. He is here, and so is that freaking snitch, Liam.
They’re over by the window, talking in low voices with serious faces, occasionally glancing out the window through the heavy curtains. When Liam spots me, he looks shamefaced, says one last thing to Connor, and hightails it out of the room.
“Snitches get stitches!” I yell after Liam’s retreating back, turning at the sound of Connor’s warm chuckles.
He’s still standing at the window, his hands in the pockets of his suit trousers, which is his favorite way to stand. I cross to him, propping my hip against the windowsill and crossing my arms over my chest.
“What do you keep looking at?” I ask, hoping to distract from my “harassment” issue he undoubtedly knows about now. Connor tips his head at the street below. I follow his gesture to the only car parked on that side of the road.
“The unmarked Crown Vic,” he says. I blink at him. Why is he looking at that car? “Undercover Vice cops.”
Oh.Shit. Are we in trouble? Are they going to do a raid? Is it illegal for me to be Connor’s housekeeper because he does illegal stuff? I don’t want to go to jail. I don’t want Connor to either, but at least he signed up for this stuff and probably knows what to do in a raid.
“Because the Irish own this place?” I whisper. Connor studies me silently for a moment, sighing.
“Because of the people who tend to congregate in this room each night to play poker.”
My eyes dart around the room as I hug my middle. I try to remember who was here the night I was. My eyes land on the table at the back of the room with real money. Stacks of it. Probably illegal.
“Why don’t you just do online poker? That way, you wouldn’t have cops watching you, but you could still get all their money?”
Connor doesn’t speak for a long moment, his face almost pained at my suggestion. I have no idea why. They’d still get their money.
“Wedorun online gambling, lass,” he says at last, rubbing the back of his neck with one of his hands. “What do you think is out in our little cottage?”
I blink in surprise, more over the fact he called itourlittle cottage than that he just told me there is an online gambling hub on the premises.
“So why still run the tables here?” I ask once I’ve regained the power of speech after my flush of pleasure. “Because it’s more money?”
Again, Connor looks pained. “Online makes much more money. But online poker isn’t about skill. Not really. Remember what I told you about reading your opponents and spotting their tells?” His eyebrows raise. Oh. Yeah, I do. I nod. “That’s half the beauty of poker. It’s not about playing the odds. It’s about playing the man.”
Connor speaks very eloquently and passionately on the subject, so I nod and agree with him. I’d always figured Connor was good at pokerbecausehe was in charge of the gambling tables.
It had honestly never occurred to me that he ran the gambling tables because he loved thegame. He doesn’t see it as gambling or odds. To Connor, poker is anart form. I also realize they might call Connor “Lucky,” but luck has nothing to do with his abilities when it comes to poker.
“Besides,” Connor grins at me, “purists like me who want to still sit at the tables and eyeball their opponents, we tend to have rather deep pockets.”
“And maybe you enjoy a bit of danger?” I grin, teasing him. Connor reaches for me, sliding his hands over my ass as he presses me against his front and squeezes. His nose tickles my ear as he smiles against my neck, which I’ve bared to him.
“Maybe a little,leannán,” he breathes. I shiver with anticipation. I hope he’s going to kiss me. He doesn’t, and I freeze at his next words, my eyes fluttering closed in defeat.
“I want to see the text messages, lass.”
Sighing, I step back, and Connor reluctantly lets his arms fall away from me. I can see the determination on his face. He’s not going to let this go.
“I wasn’t kidding,” I glare at him. “Liam better watch his back.”
“Because you’re gunning for him?” Connor smirks like he finds the idea amusing.
“I’d cut a bitch,” I grumble. Connor laughs outright.
“Liam’s a lad.”
“He’s still a bitch.”
“And so he is,leannán,” he agrees with me easily, chuckling warmly. “Would you like me to hold him while you cut him?”