Rowen McBride One Good Hand

ONE GOOD HAND

Rowan McBride

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One Good Hand

Rowan McBride

This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or
existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or
dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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ISBN 978-1-59632-603-3
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Editor: Raven McKnight
Cover Artist: Anne Cain

www.loose-id.com

Chapter One

It was a game.

A game that held almost a million dollars at stake, sure, but still a game.

“Say what?”

“I see your fifty thousand and raise you

him

.”

I glanced at the man indicated. Tall, around six feet. His long, unkempt brown hair

curled at the ends as it fell around his shoulders. He wore a tight black T-shirt with the

sleeves torn off, and a pair of equally tight leather pants. He was lean, but ripped like no one

I’d ever seen. His biceps were sculpted in sharp relief as he held his arms over his chest, and

the leather molded over his thighs left nothing to the imagination.

He didn’t seem surprised by this turn of events.

But I sure as hell was. “You can’t bet a person.”

“He’s not a person. He’s property.”

I looked at the man again. His face was still smooth, expressionless. It had to be a trick,

a cheap attempt to shake my composure. “If you don’t have the money, then call and stick.

Why raise?”

Rowan McBride

Dallas Cochran, a balding grease trap of a man, smiled. “I have the money, just not

here. Your own rules say we can only bet what we bring. Well, I brought him.”

There’s a reason you should never play pool or cards with someone named after a city.

It’s usually the city of their first big victory, the first city they’ve conquered.

No city could compare to my name, though. I was born to play this game. I felt myself

cool, settle. I’d known his rep long before I sat down to this table, but he wasn’t proving

much of a challenge. The other three players were already busted, but Dallas had brought

more than the hundred fifty grand buy-in, which was the only reason he was still in the

game. “Property, huh? How does that work, Dallas?”

“If you win, you’ll find out. Of course, you ain’t gonna win.”

A high-class whore, maybe? If so, that sucked for him, but I certainly didn’t want him.

“I don’t go for blue eyes.”

“My eyes aren’t blue.”

The words cascaded over my skin, summoning goose bumps. They slipped through

fissures in a wall I’d worked years to make perfect, and threatened to dismantle it brick by

brick. I fought against the pull of that erotic voice. I couldn’t let a stranger seduce me into

making stupid decisions, worthless bets. I was damned if I was going to let word spread that

Dallas Cochran

took me down. “They are. I just saw…” My words trailed as I looked at him a

third time.

He was right. His eyes weren’t blue. They were green. The deepest, clearest,

purest

green I’d ever seen in my life.

How could I have missed that?

“Well?” said Dallas, blowing a cloud of cigar smoke over the table. “You in or what?”

In all my years of playing poker, I’d never met such a flawless cliché. I could fold and

walk away, just to burn those snakeskin cowboy boots of his. The three hundred fifty grand

One Good Hand

in the pot might be worth the look on his face, and with the money I’d already won, I’d still

be number one.

Then I remembered what it was like to have no control over your life. This guy looked

like he could take care of himself, but what if he really couldn’t leave? “How much is he

worth?”

“Five hundred thou.”

I burst into laughter. “He just happens to be worth all the money I’ve got left to bet?

Bullshit.”

“Trust me, you’ve never had anything like him.”

Any

thing

. Suddenly, I wanted to do more than burn his boots. I wanted to tear him

down in front of all his little cronies in this dirty, dingy basement room. I wanted to make

him think twice about ever daring to challenge

again.

So I swept all my chips to the center of the table. “Call.”

He spread his cards over the green felt. “Told ya it wasn’t your night.”

Full house, kings high. I wasn’t surprised. He had conquered a city, after all. But this

was New York, my home, and the greatest city in the world.

Without a word, I dropped my cards to let him see what I had.

The one king he

didn’t

have, and a few of its closest friends, right there in a row.

The cigar fell out of his mouth, hitting his thigh. He shot to his feet, frantically

slapping at his slacks while the watchers murmured.

“Holy shit.”

“A straight flush.”

“But the odds of that are --”

Dallas stomped on his cigar. “One more hand!”

Rowan McBride

My head fell back. “You’ve got nothing left to bet. Face it, you’re done.” I snapped my

fingers, and a neutral party brought me a backpack full of money. “Get outta my hair.”

Everyone was quiet as I stared up at the ceiling. Finally I heard feet shuffle out of the

room.

“I want a rematch!”

They all wanted a rematch. “Just be sure to smoke a better quality cigar next time. I’ll

have to burn these clothes because of you.”

There was some grumbling, but soon there was nothing. I took several minutes for

myself, to come down from my win. In the old days, I would have taken at least ten

thousand out of the bag by my feet and spent the night painting the town every shade of red

imaginable. Not now. I liked the quiet now.

The stress of the game bled away. I reached down and slung the backpack over my

shoulder as I rose to my feet. I actually jumped when I saw I wasn’t alone.

It was that guy, and his eyes were definitely green.

“What are you doing here?” I blurted.

He tilted his head to the side as he looked me over. We’d never seen each other before

tonight, but somehow his gaze was way too intimate. I felt…invaded. “I belong to you.”

Oh, shit. So I guess Dallas had been serious about that. “Look, I don’t care about

whatever kink deal you two had.” I walked around him and started to leave the room. “Go

home.”

“I don’t have a home.”

I paused, looked over my shoulder. “No?”

A faint crease appeared between his eyebrows. “Don’t you want me?”

Unwillingly, my gaze traveled down his body. His pecs pushed against that black shirt

of his, and his package did the same to those obscenely tight pants. Tempting. Very tempting.

“Where are you from?”

One Good Hand

“Farther away than you could possibly imagine.”

I doubted that. “Got friends? Family?”

“No.”

Great. Dallas had just cut him loose. I dropped my bag onto the table and unzipped it.

“I’ll give you a hundred thousand dollars. That should be enough to get you started and to

hold you until you figure things out.”

His frown deepened. “You want to give me a gift?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“If you had the misfortune of being a slave to a sonovabitch like Dallas Cochran, then

you deserve it.”

He chuckled. The sound was -- God almighty, it made my stomach clench and my

prick leap. I braced a hand on the card table for support.

“I’ve been passed around a great many times over the years. Dallas was not the most

abrasive of my owners.”

Owners? I took a calming breath and reached into the bag. “Well, you’re free to do

what you want now.”

He was fast, and his speed was so fluid that it wasn’t a surprise when his hand rested on

my forearm; his body pressed close to my back.

“I can’t be set free.” He lowered his head, spoke into my ear. “I can only be given

away.” His lips curved against my skin. “Or won.”

The heat emanating from him was hard to take. It roared like wildfire and burned its

way deep inside of me.

He lifted his hand, caressed the curve of my neck. “You’re trembling. That’s so

strange.”

Rowan McBride

My breath hitched as I tried to take in cooler air. “Wh-why?”

“During the game, you had the best poker face I’d ever seen. Yet now…” He chuckled

against me. “Now you’re an open book. You want me, so why won’t you take me home with

you?”

I struggled to answer. I struggled to

think

. “You said you can only be given away. So

can’t I give you to…you?”

His head jerked back, and he stumbled away from me. “That’s not how it works.”

Although I knew a little something about living in an underground society, this guy

baffled me. But at least I could breathe now. I turned around, saw him standing stiff, with his

fists clenched.

“Just take the money. Start over.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You wouldn’t understand. You might after a while, but not now.”

I raked my fingers through my hair. “I’m a professional gambler. I have no other

marketable skills. That means next week I could be living out of my car.”

Slowly, his fingers uncurled. “But tonight you have a bed, right?”

His change in attitude worried me. “Right.”

A corner of his lips tilted upward in a crooked smile. “Then tonight we have a place to

sleep.”

. What the hell was going on?

Too tired to argue with him anymore, I decided he could take the guest room. “All

right.” I zipped up my bag. “But this is a temporary arrangement.”

“It always is.”

Sighing, I left the basement. He followed me.

One Good Hand

“Would you like me to take your bag” -- he dipped his head, grinning -- “Master?”

Fuckin’ A. What had I gotten myself into? “No, thanks. What’s your name?”

“Whatever you wish it to be.”

“No, seriously. What’s your name?”

“Seriously, whatever you want it to be.”

This was going to be a long night. “What did Dallas call you?”

“‘Hey, you,’ mostly.”

His tone was so casual, but it made me see red. “Next time he wants to play me, I’m

making him bring the deeds to everything he owns.”

“That’s quite a lot. His family refines oil.”

Figured. “What would you like me to call you?”

“I can’t name myself. You’re the only one who can name me.”

We stepped out of the rundown, abandoned building and onto the sidewalk.

Sometimes I played in rat holes; sometimes I played in mansions. I never cared, as long as the

pot was good. “I don’t have any ideas.”

“You do. Just let it come to you.”

The cool air of early spring chased away some of my weariness. “I’d call you Luck.” My

mouth quirked. “But everyone knows that Luck is a lady.”

He laughed. I noticed for the first time that I only came up to his shoulder. “I wasn’t

very lucky for Dallas, at any rate.”

At least he had a sense of humor. “True.” I thought about it a while, not at all

concerned that I was carrying a backpack full of cash through Hell’s Kitchen. The bag was

worn and so were my clothes. I looked like I didn’t have a penny to my name.

Name.

Rowan McBride

Aw, shit. I didn’t know what to call this guy. He didn’t look like any man I’d ever seen.

None of the names I thought about seemed to fit him. Not Matthew or Travis or Tony or

Juan. I remembered the hand that had “won” him. “How about Spade?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, Spade it is.”

His mouth crooked as we crossed a street. “Thank you.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, because you gave it to me.”

Again, I wondered what I was going to do with him. “I’m Ace, by the way. Ace

Donovan.”

“I know.”

Oh, yeah. The game had lasted five hours. Dallas had cursed my name dozens of times.

Five hours, and this guy -- Spade -- had been standing all that time. “You must be tired.” I

went to the edge of the sidewalk, saw the street looking pretty desolate, and reached into my

pocket for my phone. “I’ll get us a cab.”

His long fingers gently closed around my wrist and removed my hand from my pocket.

“Do you wish to walk?” he asked, entwining his fingers with mine.

I couldn’t look away from those leaf green eyes. “I-I usually walk a couple blocks

before getting the cab. Clears my head.”

He released me and stepped back. “Then I want to walk as well. See how that works?”

No, I didn’t. But I got my feet moving again. “It’s not too late, you know. To bail on me.

The games I play aren’t like the ones you watch on ESPN. You’d be better off as far from this

scene as you can get.”

Ignoring my little speech, he fell into step beside me. “Where do you live, Ace?”

One Good Hand

When most people said my name, it sounded dated or slightly condescending. Like

“Sport” or “Tiger.” Only sharks said it with respect. But Spade was different. He said it as

if…I don’t know. As if it were a holy word.

“Upper East Side.”

He whistled. “Nice neighborhood.”

“I’ve had a good stretch.”

“Dallas told me you were the one to beat.”

My hand tightened on the strap of my bag. “That’s the thing about being the best in the

world. Everyone wants to prove themselves by taking you down, so I have the luxury of

letting them come to me, and setting my own rules.”

“You play five-card draw.”

“Yeah.”

“Dallas prefers Texas hold ’em.”

I snorted. “That just about completes my picture of him.”

“Can you play that game?”

“I can play all the major variations of poker, but when I get to choose, it’s always the

same.”

“Why do you like five-card draw?”

A familiar smile came to mind, as well as memories of long, nimble fingers. It made me

feel good to know that my smile was so much like his, that my hands were as steady.

“Someone I love taught it to me, and it’s always been my favorite.”

He was quiet for a while. I tried to think of something else to say, but I didn’t know

what, if anything, we had in common. He might not even like poker.

Which would be just great, being that I just named him after a suit of cards.

Rowan McBride

I stole a glance at him, captivated by the perfect shape of his muscles, clearly visible

even through the dark clothing.

Spade looked down at me and smiled. “Do you like my body?”

“Yeah.”

His eyes were too intimate again. “You don’t bother with misdirection unless you’re

playing cards, do you?”

I tore my gaze away from him and shrugged. “No point.”

“Is there anything you don’t like about my body?”

And once more I was staring at him. My eyes rested on the nipple ring outlined against

his shirt. “I’m not that fond of piercings, to tell you the truth. But I haven’t got anything

against them.”

Spade stopped walking. “All right.”

Surprised by his lack of forward motion, I had to backtrack. “What?”

His fingers gripped the ragged edge of his shirt as he drew it upward.

My hands shot out and grabbed his wrists. “Are you

crazy?

Don’t you know where you

are?!”

He lowered his head. “I can protect you, Ace. Owning me will give you freedom. I

can’t offer all my masters that, but I can give it to you. I see that already.”

I didn’t understand any of that, but I knew what happened to guys like us in

neighborhoods like this. “Whatever you’re about to do, can’t it wait till later?”

His face softened as he continued to drag the shirt up his body. His skin was almost as

fair as mine, and I stopped fighting him as he revealed each row of his cobblestone abs. My

gaze followed the path of the material, pausing when he did, at the lower half of his chest.

Spade’s fingers went to the gleaming silver hoop piercing his nipple, and he hissed as

he pried it open.

One Good Hand

“Stop,” I said softly. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

He grinned, his pecs tensing as he removed it. He smoothed down his shirt and held it

out.

I stared at his open palm. “You’re giving it to me?”

Spade took my hand, dropped the hoop into it, and closed my fingers around it. “With

this ring,” he said, touching his lips to my fist.

The teasing spark in his eyes shook me, made me weak. A flash of yellow down the

street caught my attention, and I knew enough to take advantage of Luck when she let me.

“I’m done with walking.” Going to the curb, I raised my hand to hail the approaching cab.

He made no secret of his amusement as the taxi pulled to a stop beside us. “You’re

sure?”

I opened the door and scooted to the far end of the seat. Spade climbed in after me, and

I realized my mistake. His presence filled the confined space, enveloped me, caressed me just

as surely as if he’d pulled me on top of him.

The cabbie looked us over in the rearview mirror. “Where to?”

It took me a few seconds to remember my address. I stammered it out and tried to

relax.

Spade stretched his arm behind me, resting it along the back of the seat. Every once in

a while, he’d curl his fingers, play with my hair. I wondered what he thought of my rust-

colored locks, even as I fought the urge to lean into his touch.

So much for relaxing.

We passed the ride in silence. It was half an hour before we arrived home, and I pulled

my wallet from my pocket to pay the cabbie. I knew better than to let him know I was

carrying a raggedy backpack stuffed full of C-notes.

When I left the taxi, Spade had his head tilted back as he stared up at my tower

apartment building.

Rowan McBride

“You live here?”

“Yep.”

“What floor?”

“The very top.”

He glanced down at me. “Penthouse?”

“Only the best.”

I think he might have caught the trace of melancholy in my tone, because his eyes

seemed to get more focused. “Did you ever think that if you lived less extravagantly, you

wouldn’t have to worry about where you’d be sleeping next week?”

I walked past him, and the doorman eyed Spade with curiosity as he let us into the

building. I couldn’t blame him. Spade must have looked, well,

rough

compared to the few

people who visited me here. And compared to the

residents

, he must have appeared

downright barbaric. “I have one responsibility in my life, and I took care of that years ago. So

now I just live in the moment.”

Spade ignored the doorman as we entered the foyer, the whole of his attention

centered on me. “You’re responsible for me now.”

I scanned my card to open up the elevator and stepped inside. “I thought you were

giving me freedom.”

The doors slid shut, and he grasped my shoulders, gently pressing me back against the

elevator wall. “You’ll be amazed by how liberating owning me will be.”

His warm, soft lips brushed against mine. It wasn’t a kiss. It was a taste. Every time I

tried to get closer, he’d pull away just enough to keep the contact teasing. Before I knew it, I

was on my toes, and he was still only letting me have a taste.

I dropped back onto my heels. “You don’t want me to kiss you?”

“I want what you want.”

One Good Hand

I frowned. “Then why did you keep pulling away?”

“You wanted a deeper caress?”

“Yes.”

He grinned. “Then you have to make your wishes known.”

The rules he played by didn’t make any sense to me. “I want…”

Spade lowered his head, just slightly. “Yes?”

A bell dinged. Twenty-three floors never flew by so fast.

He winked at me when he saw my disappointment. “Don’t worry. We’ll have plenty of

chances.”

I blew out a soft breath and swiped my card again to open the elevator doors. I walked

the short distance down the hallway and used the card a third time to gain access to my

luxury penthouse. “This is the place. Make yourself comfortable.”

Spade followed me to the center of the suite. His expression was disinterested as he

glanced around the living room. In fact, the only time he seemed to have

any

expression on

his face was when he looked at me.

“For someone who lives such an unstable life, you have a lot of things here.”

The cream-colored, overstuffed furniture that matched the plush carpet; the ornately

framed mirrors hanging high on the walls to spread light and give the impression of even

more space; the fake plants; the mahogany tables topped with glass. Yeah, I guess it was a lot.

“Most of it was here when I moved in.”

“Ah.”

I dropped my backpack into an armchair and pointed out the major rooms. “Kitchen,

den, gym, living room, bathroom, my bedroom. There’s a dining room, but I never use it.

Guest room’s that way, and it has its own bathroom. There should be a clean toothbrush in

the top drawer by the sink.”

Rowan McBride

His gaze followed my finger. “Guest room? I’m supposed to sleep there?”

“Well, you’re not getting my room.”

His green eyes sparkled as his gaze drifted back to me. “Why are you sending me to a

separate bed when you obviously want me in yours?”

It had been so long since I’d had anyone in my bed. I felt safer when I slept alone, with

my door locked. “We don’t even know each other.”

He leaned close to me, skimmed his fingers down my cheek. “You named me. How

much closer can two people be?”

I stared up at him, unable to say anything, unable to voice my wishes.

That intimate consideration swept over me again, and his eyebrows lifted. I didn’t have

a chance to counter his feline speed as he scooped me up into his arms and straightened.

“What the hell!”

“It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Shocked, I tried to push away. His arms flexed and bulged as he held me, but his face

remained relaxed. I got the impression that my struggles weren’t giving him any kind of

trouble.

He chuckled. “You know, when most men find themselves in possession of a willing

slave, they know

exactly

what they want from it. Not you, though. You’re so sure of yourself

when you play cards, but you seem to be very awkward in the other aspects of your life.”

“Where do you get off --”

Spade pressed his lips to my cheek, silencing me. “I’ve never had to train a master

before, but don’t worry. I’m capable, Ace. I’ll take good care of you.”

I stilled in his arms, aroused and confused and a little bit scared. “Spade…”

One Good Hand

A slow smile curved his mouth as he carried me into my room and pulled back the

covers of my bed before settling me into it. “You’re exhausted. I won’t start lessons until

tomorrow.”

He crawled in and pulled the blankets over the both of us as he gathered me into his

arms. I hadn’t noticed earlier just how hard his body was, hadn’t comprehended the full

swell of his biceps or his chest. I’d thought he was a little on the thin side before, but that

wasn’t the case at all.

Spade threaded his fingers through my hair. “You wish to sleep?”

The lull of his voice already had my eyelids drifting downward. “Yes.”

“You want me to hold you, just like this?”

As if he’d always been in my bed, I nestled closer to him. “Yes.”

“Then I will. It’s as simple as that.”

It wasn’t. I knew it. But I let myself believe it, just for tonight.

Rowan McBride

Chapter Two

Call

…

Raise

…

Fold

…

Win

…

Lose

…

I bolted upright in my bed, my body shaking so hard that beads of cold sweat were

flung from my skin.

“Get a hold of yourself, Ace,” I whispered. “You didn’t lose last night. You won a

shitload of cash. You even won a…” I glanced around my empty mattress.

Okay, maybe that part had been in the dream, not real life. Who won a human being --

hot

human being draped in black leather -- at a card game? I’d scored a great many things

with poker, this apartment being one of them, but I’d never had something like

that

happen.

I heard the clink of plates in the next room.

Jennika didn’t have a key. So that meant… I glanced at my nightstand and saw the

small silver ring Spade had given me last night. Suddenly I was aware of my grungy clothes,

One Good Hand

the stench of stale cigar smoke still clinging to me. The odor was enough to make anyone

gag, and the man in the other room had held me because I’d wanted it.

Scrambling out of bed, I threw my T-shirt and jeans into the trash. I ran for the

shower, skidded to a stop when I remembered my wallet, and ran back to the wastebasket. I

stooped to retrieve it, dropped it onto the counter, and returned to the mission of cleaning

myself up.

My bathroom was an interior designer’s nightmare: the shower and bath were

originally separate, but I didn’t like that setup, so I’d had the shower torn out and a glass

partition built around the bath. Now I stood in a porcelain tub, eyes closed as I let the water

hit me from three different directions. Belatedly, I realized I’d been in too much of a rush to

close the glass door, and there was water all over the floor by the time I remembered.

I’d never been wound so tight over a guy after so little time. I wondered about his

lifestyle. I wondered what his real name might be, how long he planned to stay. What was

his story?

Once done with my shower, I rifled through my medicine cabinet, searching for

something that would make me smell masculine.

Why didn’t I have any cologne?

I closed the mirrored door of the cabinet, watched as my reflection swung into place.

My hair looked much better now that it was clean, and my brown eyes weren’t bloodshot.

That was new. I guess I’d had a good night’s sleep, despite the nightmare.

Leaving the bathroom, I went to the closet and grabbed a pair of khakis. I tugged them

on, flipped through the hangers, and found one of five identical button-down shirts. White.

Blue pinstripes. It wasn’t my usual look, but it was Saturday morning. I always wore a white

dress shirt with khakis on Saturday mornings. That couldn’t change just because there was a

man in my suite.

My forehead fell against the closet door.

Rowan McBride

But what a man. I was going to be in a lot of trouble if he was half as sexy as I

remembered.

Tentatively, I walked out of my bedroom. Spade lounged on one of the sofas, his dark

clothing a stark contrast to the cream-colored upholstery.

He was not as sexy as I remembered. He was so much more.

“Good morning,” I all but croaked.

He glanced up, smiled. “Good morning, Ace. Did you sleep well?”

I nodded. “Did you?”

His arms were spread over the back of the sofa, and his entire body looked like some

sinful invitation. “Yes.”

I couldn’t think of sex, not right now. So I focused on the other oddity in my suite.

“What smells so good?”

He nodded his head toward the breakfast nook to his left.

“You cook?” I walked over to the small table by the window. “Wow, you even made

my eggs the way I like them. Sunnyside up, a little runny in the middle.” The bacon looked

good too. Even the toast made my mouth water.

He placed a glass of orange juice by the plate. “Do you plan to try it? Or do you just

plan to stare at it all morning?”

His sudden appearance made me jump. He was so damned

fast

Spade pressed me into a chair before taking a seat across from me. He sat quiet, waiting.

I picked up a fork and took a bite. Perfect. “It’s warm.”

“Did you think I would serve you cold food?”

“No…well…I don’t understand how you got the timing right. How did you know

when I’d be getting up?”

Amusement touched his features. “Maybe I’m luckier than we thought.”

One Good Hand

The “we” thing took me by surprise every time, and I didn’t know what to make of it. I

took a bite of the crunchy bacon, sipped at my orange juice. “This is great. Even better than

how I used to have it growing up.”

He rested his elbows on the table. “I’m glad you like it, Master.”

My head shot up. “Don’t call me Master. Please.”

His mouth crooked. His lips were so full, and I couldn’t help remembering how they’d

felt the few times they’d touched me. “Whatever you want.”

Last night, he’d said something about a lesson. Was this part of that?

Because of one good hand, I’d let a strange man shack up with me. I didn’t think he

was dangerous. Strangely, I believed he meant what he’d said about protecting me. But I

wasn’t sure I could handle the level of kink he wanted me to embrace.

Quietly, I finished my breakfast and stood from the table.

He rose as well, walked around to stand in front of me. “What shall we do now?”

I fell back a step. Having him so close rattled me. Every time I looked at him, he

seemed new, and his smoldering sexuality was more intense. “I-I’ve got to go.”

“Oh? Where?”

“I have an appointment.”

His emerald gaze slid over me. “You’re not sick.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. “It’s not that kind of appointment.”

“May I come along?”

“No!” I caught myself, continued in a calmer tone. “It’s not the kind of thing where I’d

want company.”

His face gentled. “What should I do in your absence?”

I looked over his clothes, which seemed so out of place in the light of day. “I’ll give you

a little cash, and you can go shopping for new stuff to wear.”

Rowan McBride

He glanced down at himself briefly. “Leather not your thing?”

“It’s fine, but I’m sure you could use some fresh clothing.”

“These are fresh.”

Why was he fighting me on this? “Come on. My clothes reeked this morning. When I

get back, I’ll have to throw my sheets into the hamper.”

Spade moved closer, until his body brushed mine. “Do I reek, Ace?”

Involuntarily, I inhaled. “No, you smell good.” How was that possible? Had he

somehow managed to clean his clothes this morning? “Really, really good.”

His fingers stroked my hair, and my gaze was drawn to the muscles of his arm as they

bunched into a tight ball. “You smell good too. Like green apples.”

I reached up to touch the bare skin of his arms. His biceps fit the curves of my hands

perfectly. “My shampoo, I think.”

Chuckling, he lowered his head and buried his face in my hair. “So it is.”

I groaned and slipped my arms around him.

“Do you really have to go, Ace? I’ve just come into your ownership, and I’d like

to…connect.”

My hands twisted into his shirt; my knuckles pressed against the hardness of his body.

“I can’t stay.”

He straightened and looked down at me, his green eyes intent. Finally, he nodded and

released me. “I’ll wait for you here, then.”

“Don’t sit around here.” I ran to the backpack I’d won last night and pulled out a small

stack of bills. “Take this,” I said, pressing it into his palm, “and have some fun.”

He glanced down at the money in his hand. “How much is it?”

“Ten grand.”

“And what should I buy with it?”

One Good Hand

I frowned. “Anything you want.”

“I want what you want.”

Forget this shit. I turned, started to leave.

Spade grasped my hand and tugged me closer. “Tell me what to buy, Ace.”

His voice drew a tumble of answers out of me. “Clothes, shoes, a watch, soap you like,

toothpaste you like,

anything you like

!”

He grinned. “Can I buy something for you?”

I stopped short. “No. Just for yourself, okay?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Where should I go?”

I tried to pull free, but his grip, though gentle, was fixed like iron. “You can cruise

Madison Avenue for all I care.”

He didn’t respond, only watched me.

Okay, maybe he needed specifics. “Tribeca,” I said softly. “It’s a little grittier than

SoHo, but I like it there.”

“How will I get back into the building?”

“Oh.” I pulled away again, and this time he let me go. I opened a mahogany wood chest

against the wall and fished around until I found it. “This card will open up the elevator and

my front door. On my way out, I’ll put your name on the list.”

He took the card and tucked it under the paper band holding the money together.

Wouldn’t be good, carrying so much cash around like that, and his current clothing

didn’t have any space for pockets. “You should put that in something.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Like a purse?”

My laughter caught me by surprise. “Try the dresser in my bedroom. There are some

spare wallets in the top drawer, even the kind you can hang around your neck. You’ll look

like a tourist, but you should be fine.”

Rowan McBride

“Thank you.”

“Have fun. That’s an…” What the hell to say here? Order? Command? “I

want

you to

have fun, got it?”

Spade reached out and glided his thumb over my lips. “You learn fast. Maybe when you

return, you’ll be brave enough to take a real kiss.”

I stepped back. “I have to go.”

“I know.”

Feeling awkward, I opted for the quick exit. “See ya later.”

His voice drifted to me just before I closed the door. “Good-bye, Ace.”

* * * * *

“Hello, Mr. Donovan. Welcome back.”

“Thank you, Felicia. Is it okay to see him?”

“Of course.” Felicia, a young wisp of a woman with pale blonde hair, stood and led me

through a set of double doors. “This way.”

Another, older woman took her place behind the front desk. They were always on top

of things here. It’s one of the reasons I chose it.

I looked at the familiar walls of the Sunnyville Retirement Home. It was a pretty place,

with some of highest-rated staff in the country. Pricey, but I’d been able to set up a trust

fund to maintain all the expenses that would ever be incurred. I’d also gotten my lawyer to

lock it so I wouldn’t have access to it, just to make sure I wouldn’t take it into my head to

throw it away on cards.

“How’s he doing today?”

“Pretty good.”

“Hustlin’ the other residents, as usual?”

Felicia hesitated. “Ah, no. He’s been quiet today.”

One Good Hand

Quiet? That didn’t sound like the man I knew. But then, these days he so rarely

sounded like the man I used to know. “Sad?”

She opened the door to the recreation room. “A little.”

“Why?”

“The usual reasons, I think.”

I followed her to a set of comfortable chairs arranged by the large picture window.

Only one person sat there, and I automatically smoothed down my hair.

Felicia leaned forward. “Hi, Rick. Someone’s here to see you.”

His pale eyes touched on me briefly before fixing on her. “Have you heard anything

about my nephew yet?”

She straightened and placed her hand on my shoulder. “He’s right here. I’ll give you

two some alone time.”

Rick’s eyes narrowed as she left. “Dumb blonde. She never understands what I’m trying

to say.” He looked up at me. “Who are you, anyway?”

I was always careful to wear the same thing every Saturday. It usually helped to remind

him that I was, at least, familiar. Some guy who stopped in to visit him.

We’d been having to start from scratch in the last few weeks. “My name’s Ace.”

His face cleared. “Oh, that’s probably why the chick was confused. My nephew’s name

is Ace.”

My eyes closed briefly. “Okay to sit?”

“Sure.”

I sat in one of the chairs across from him. “What’s your nephew like?”

He softened. “Ah, he’s a good kid. Real good. Smart as a whip and friendly. His parents

died a while back, and so he’s living with me. They say teenagers are a lot of trouble, but he’s

never given me a lick of grief.”

Rowan McBride

I smiled. “Why are you looking for him?”

He glanced away, stared out the window. “I fucked up. Lost everything in a game,

including the deed to the damned house. The government, they took him away from me.”

His white hair caught the sunlight, and I remembered a time when it was fire-engine

red. “He’s fine, Rick.”

“You know?” he asked, whipping around in his chair. “You know for a fact?”

I clasped my hands together to keep from touching him. “He’s living in a nice place,

and he loves you.”

“H-he said that?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

Rick leaned forward, lowered his voice. “Will you tell him something for me?”

“What?”

“Tell him I didn’t mean to wreck things the way I did. I just kept drawing bad cards all

night, and I kept thinking I was due.”

“He doesn’t blame you, Rick,” I said quickly. “He

never

blamed you.”

“I’m not done yet.”

This was the uncle I remembered, and I grinned. “Sorry.”

“Tell him you have to bet big to win big, but always remember that betting big means

losing

big, too. I lost him, and that’s a special kind of hell.”

Jesus. No wonder he’d been quiet today. If this disease was going to take his mind, then

why couldn’t it just take the bad memories? “You didn’t lose him. He’s always thinking about

you.”

Rick stared at me a long moment, then smiled. “You remind me of him. Cute. Sweet.”

“Thanks,” I said, blinking back tears.

“What do you do for a living?”

One Good Hand

“I play cards.”

A sly grin curved his mouth. “You a shark?”

I rested my elbows on my knees. “I’m a goddamned great white.”

He laughed -- that robust, booming laughter I always adored. Reaching into his pocket,

he pulled out a deck of cards. “I don’t play anymore, but I know some magic tricks. Want to

see?”

“I’d like that.” I grabbed the edge of a small table and dragged it between us.

His spotted, wrinkled hands were still graceful and quick as he shuffled the cards. Then

he showed me the same tricks he showed me every week, the same tricks he’d taught me

when I was nine. I pretended to be mystified.

And I pretended I wasn’t losing him.

Rowan McBride

Chapter Three

I slid my keycard through the scanner and entered my suite. It was quiet, and I

automatically glanced at the armchair just inside the living room. The backpack was still

there, still open, and still full of money. He hadn’t run off with it. But then, I hadn’t thought

he would.

Why didn’t I think he would run off with it?

I ventured farther into the room. Spade was sitting on the sofa, his sock-covered feet

propped up on the coffee table and crossed at the ankles. His head was tilted back as he

relaxed.

He’d gotten new clothes, just like I’d told him. Jet black wool slacks, a burgundy silk

shirt with the buttons undone to the middle of his bare chest. My gaze drifted downward

and rested on the leather belt with the slim gold buckle.

Boy, when he cleaned up, he really…

Spade lowered his head and looked right at me, his green eyes set off by the new shirt.

“Welcome home,” he said, his voice like Fifth Avenue silk.

Pure, undiluted desire slammed into me, and I very nearly stumbled back from the

force of it. I searched for something,

anything

, to say. “Y-you cut your hair.”

One Good Hand

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Would you like to take a closer look?”

Unbidden, my feet crossed the room. His locks were shorter now. They fell over his

forehead, almost to his eyebrows. And they were… “You dyed it too?”

His lips curved slightly more. “Like it?”

“Fuck, yeah. I’ve always had a thing for guys with pitch black hair.” Unable to stop

myself, I reached out and fingered the sleek strands. “Weird, though.”

“Oh?”

I leaned a little closer. “Your hair was so wavy when it was long. I would’ve bet hard

cash that it would be curly when short, but now it’s blade straight.”

His lips twitched. “You were gone a long time. Did your appointment go well?”

“‘Well’ isn’t the word I’d use.”

His smile faded, and he straightened, slipping his hands around my hips and drawing

me closer. “You’re unhappy.”

“Sometimes.”

“Most times.”

I braced my hands on his shoulders. They looked broader in burgundy than in black,

and I gripped them tight. “I want you to kiss me.”

He tilted his head, but one of his hands slid around to my back, to the nape of my neck,

and guided me downward.

It was more than a taste.

His smooth lips glided against mine, warming them, then spread the warmth to my

entire body. I groaned, and his tongue caressed the center of my own before coaxing me to

enter his mouth. I gave to him; he gave to me. It was the most perfect first kiss I could

remember experiencing.

Rowan McBride

As his thighs hugged me, I slipped my hand beneath his shirt and palmed the swell of

muscle on his chest.

He broke the kiss and smiled up at me.

I blinked in confusion. “Why…”

“What else do you want to do, Ace?”

We’re still playing this game?

Balling up my fist, I belted his shoulder and tried to

shove myself away from him. “Fuck you, Spade!”

Without warning, he swept me up and dropped me onto the sofa. Levering himself

over me with one hand, he used the other to undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt. “I was

hoping you’d say that.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

His mouth crooked, and he straightened to his knees, holding me trapped between

them. “No? My mistake.” His hands went back to his shirt.

I grabbed his wrists. “Wait.”

He paused, obeying my order.

“I…” Swallowing hard, I forced it out. “I want you to fuck me, Spade.”

Grinning, he removed his shirt and tossed it aside.

His old set of clothes had been so tight that I’d thought I couldn’t be surprised by the

sight of his bare skin. I was wrong. Nothing could have prepared me for this.

I’d never seen muscles as defined as his. It looked like someone had taken a chisel and

carved

them into his torso. The grooves separating one from the other were etched deep,

sank deeper every time he took a breath. His smooth, taut skin was immaculate. No scars, no

freckles, no blemishes. The sheer flawlessness of his body made him seem unnatural, almost

artificial. I reached up to see, but his skin was warm, and no makeup had come off on my

fingers when I looked at them.

One Good Hand

“Is that all the touching you’re going to do?”

My gaze drifted back to his body. It was a shade darker than it had been this morning.

“You spend some time in a tanning booth today?”

He glanced down at himself, then grinned as he focused on me. In one fluid motion, he

unbuckled his belt, slid it from its loops, and dropped it to the floor. His long fingers

unfastened the catch of his slacks, curling as he grasped the zipper and slowly drew it

downward.

My breath came shallower and shallower, until I was holding it.

He was wearing a pair of burgundy briefs underneath, but his thumbs hooked into

them as he pulled down his pants, shedding both articles of clothing at the same time. It was

mesmerizing to watch. He never left the couch, which should have made his movements

awkward, but somehow he accomplished it with a grace I’d never witnessed before.

My gaze fixed on his cock, already half hard. At eight inches, I was by no means small

in that department, but it looked like he was going to overshoot me by at least two. And

there was no variation of skin tone, which meant he’d gotten his tan while lying

naked

some light bed.

God, I wish I could have been there to see it.

His hand on my crotch made me gasp, which jumpstarted my breathing.

Spade chuckled as he leaned forward, stretching himself over me. “You were beginning

to turn blue.”

I skimmed my hands over his shoulders, finally giving myself license to explore.

“Thanks for saving my life, then.”

“I’d never cause you pain, Ace.” He lowered his head, spoke into my ear. “It’s not your

thing.”

Rowan McBride

My breath hitched, threatened to stall again, but he pressed his lips to my cheek to get

me going. I slipped my hands around him and tried to draw him down, wanting to feel his

weight on top of me.

He indulged me a moment, then lifted himself up. The separation had me feeling

destitute, and I tried to pull him close again.

Ignoring my distress, he touched his finger to my lips, let it glide down to my chin, the

underside of my jaw, over my Adam’s apple. I could feel it as he pushed the top button of my

shirt through its hole, and with every successive button, I became more undone.

I slid my palms down his hot, smooth skin and curved them over the hard swell of his

buttocks. I urged him forward, but he wouldn’t budge. It was like trying to move a stone

statue.

Spade eased my shirt off my shoulders, off my arms. “I saw in your closet that you had

four more of these. Why?”

My body went still, and I glanced away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

He threaded his fingers through my hair, drawing me back to his leaf green eyes. “All

right. I’ll make you forget.”

It scared me to think he knew exactly why I needed this.

His hand caressed my bare chest. I wasn’t a study in sculpture, like him, but I was fit.

And he seemed to like the feel of me, if his stiffening cock was any indication. I rubbed my

thigh against his erection, trying to get him to move a little faster.

A soft sound of approval flowed from his lips, and his mouth was on mine again.

Licking, sucking, delving into me.

I’m not sure how he managed to relieve me of my pants. All I know is that suddenly I

was naked and his fingers were stroking my prick in light, teasing caresses. I started to leave

the sofa, but his strong hands held me to the cushions.

“The condoms are in the bedroom.”

One Good Hand

“Why do we need a condom?”

I frowned. “I thought we were going to fuck.”

He trailed kisses down the curve of my neck. “We are.”

I pushed on him, couldn’t get him off of me. He just kept kissing my skin, stroking my

cock. “No offense, but you said you’ve been passed around like some party prize, and I don’t

know where the hell you’ve been. I

know that you were with Dallas, and he strikes me as

a nasty sonovabitch.”

Keeping me pinned beneath his body, Spade finally stopped with the kisses to look

down at me. “You shouldn’t think about any of them. There’s only you.”

His hand was still teasing my cock, making it hard for me to focus. “But --”

“I’m a new man, I’m yours, and I’m clean. I promise you.”

“How can I --”

“Trust me? You already do, or you wouldn’t have left me alone with almost a million

dollars today.”

My voice dropped as I stopped pushing on him. “Why do I trust you?”

“Because everything I am belongs to you, Ace. It’s as simple as that.”

He saw things with a clarity and conviction I couldn’t understand. “Even if that’s true,

why do you trust

me?

You don’t know anything about me.”

A smile shaped his full lips. “You’ve never had sex in this suite.” He glanced around

briefly, before returning his gaze to me. “And you’ve lived here for almost a year.”

My brow furrowed. “How did you know that?”

“This place has absorbed your presence in a dozen little ways, but it still doesn’t feel

like a home. That takes a more intimate attachment, and you’re not one for sex without

intimacy.”

Rowan McBride

I started to deny it, to ask how I could possibly feel attached to

him

, but the words died

in my throat. I

was

attached. We hadn’t had a real conversation since we’d met, but in less

than twenty-four hours I felt like he belonged here. How could that --

His fingers gave my cock a squeeze, and all doubt evaporated as I thrust myself deeper

into his fist. Spade touched his lips to mine, then worked his way down my chest, my

stomach. His large hands cupped my ass and lifted me up to his waiting mouth.

I hooked my knees over his shoulders to lock him to me. The tip of his tongue glided

up the underside of my shaft, making my body tremble with pleasure. I gripped the arm of

the sofa with both hands as I squeezed my eyes shut.

His lips closed around me, and he slid down to the base in one slick stroke. Then

everything worked in concert to drive me crazy: his tongue traced incomprehensible

patterns on my sensitized skin; his mouth sucked and sipped; even the muscles of his throat

constricted tight around my cockhead each time he swallowed me.

In seconds I felt that wild churning low in my balls. I was close, too close, and my eyes

flew open. “Spade! Stop!”

He snapped his head away, confused and shocked. “You don’t want this?”

My ass was still in the air, and his saliva cooled on my prick. “No…yes! I want to come

with you i-inside of me.”

The shock slipped from his face, but the confusion increased. “You do?”

I guess it was a weird request, especially considering he lived for being used. “Yes.”

He lowered my legs and crawled up my body, his muscles bunching and flexing with

every movement, like some great big cat. “I can make sure we come together. Would you

like that?”

“You can…”

A smile ghosted on his lips as he smoothed back my hair. “If you want it, I can do it.”

“I want it,” I said softly.

One Good Hand

His fingers tightened in my hair and gave a light tug. Without thinking, I parted my

lips. He captured them, coaxing me to open wider, sucking my tongue into his mouth. I

moaned and clutched at him, trying to hold myself together. Every time he kissed me, it felt

better, went deeper. He wanted to be inside of me, and I welcomed it.

Spade straightened and, keeping his eyes on mine, licked the palm of his hand. Then he

slicked it over his cock.

There was something very erotic about knowing my saliva mingled with his, and that

he had anointed his pole with it. Eagerly, I spread my legs, offered myself up to him.

Spade gripped my hips and pressed the flared head of his cock to my tight hole. My

hungry pucker clenched in anticipation.

Had I really gone a year without this? Somewhere along the line, I’d let myself taper

off, shut myself away. And now I was incapable of wanting anything else.

Unprepared for his size, I gasped when he eased himself into me, but he’d said he

would never cause me pain, and I wasn’t feeling any. He pushed himself deeper -- inch by

inch, breath by breath -- until he had himself flush against me. He lowered my ass and

leaned over, trapping my prick between our bodies.

Slowly, he began to slide up and down me, and his skin caressed mine as his cock

thrust in and out. Each hard ridge in his abdominal muscles bumped against my dick; each

impact sent a surge of ecstasy through me.

The tension built with his steady cadence, and his gaze never left mine as his eyes

darkened into forest green.

My climax caught me totally by surprise. Explosive. Pure. I cried out, clung to him as I

felt the warm rush of his own orgasm spill into me. At first I was scared out of my mind to

feel something so intense, and then there was only euphoria.

Spade wrapped his arms around me, held me close, nuzzled his cheek against mine. A

new feeling arose, highlighted the bliss. Like…home.

Rowan McBride

“Oh, fuck,” I whispered.

He lifted his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Again?”

The alarm I felt must have been visible on my face, because he burst into laughter.

“I shouldn’t tease.” He caressed the sweat from my forehead. “You’re a little vulnerable

after you come, aren’t you?”

I could feel my skin turning a brighter shade of red than my hair.

Gently, he pulled out of me.

. Panic flooded my system, and my hands tightened on his body. I didn’t want to be

tossed aside. Not now. I needed a few more minutes.

Just a few

He paused, staring down at me with intent eyes. “I’m not leaving you. I’m only trying

to make you more comfortable.”

God, it was like he could see all my frailties. I broke his gaze, humiliated by my

neediness.

“Ace?” He gathered me closer. “Would you like me to carry you to our bed? I’ll hold

you for hours, if you want.”

Our bed? When did it become

our

bed? “No, the sheets stink.”

“I changed them.”

Turning my head, I met his gaze. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You wanted them changed?”

“Well, yeah, but --”

“So they’re changed, and you can rest there now. Just tell me what to do.”

There was no judgment in his eyes, no indication that anything I would ask of him

could possibly be wrong. It did something to me, and I didn’t want to lose this feeling any

sooner than necessary. “I just want to curl up on this couch with you.”

One Good Hand

He smiled, gently shifted our positions so that we were lying on our sides, facing each

other. “How’s that?”

It was exactly the position I’d been fantasizing about. “I like this.”

“The size of my body makes you feel safe, doesn’t it? And warm.” His long arms

surrounded me. “It’s good to feel that way. You shouldn’t be ashamed of wanting more.”

My body started, and his hands stroked my back to calm me. He’d been here less than a

day. Had I been so lonely for human touch that I let my guards fall away without a second

thought? Needing to unravel some of his mystery, I looked up at him. “Spade? How old are

you?”

“Thirty-two.”

Another surprise. He didn’t look anywhere near thirty. “Seriously?”

He chuckled. “Seriously. What about you?”

“Twenty-six.” I scrubbed my face with my hand. “Although I probably look closer to

forty.”

He took my wrist, tugged it away. “You look your age.”

Out of all the things he could have said, that was what I’d most needed to hear. He

always seemed to know what was going on with me, and I couldn’t see into him at all. “You

feel good, right?”

“Your pleasure is my pleasure, Ace.”

I glided my knuckles down his chest. “Give me a straight answer. That’s an…that’s an

order.”

He hesitated, then dropped a kiss on the top of my head. “I feel very good.”

“I’m glad,” I said softly, pressing myself closer to him.

His arms tightened around me. “Your happiness is my happiness.”

I bit his nipple, making his entire chest jump. “Ass.”

Rowan McBride

Laughter, quiet and soothing, cascaded over me.

One Good Hand

Chapter Four

I held the ten-pound weight to my bare chest with both hands and hooked my feet

under the brace. I let my body get used to the inclined bench, took a deep breath, and started

my fifth and final set of crunches.

“You work very hard for your body.”

I paused a moment before continuing with my workout. “Yeah.”

Spade entered the room. I knew this because, as always, his presence filled the space.

“Why?”

My mouth quirked. “Because I want abs like yours.”

He pressed his lips to my sweat-drenched stomach. “I think your body is attractive the

way it is, Ace.”

It tickled, and I laughed. Spade grabbed hold of the plate before I could do myself

damage, and set it aside.

Knowing that the set was shot, I unhooked my feet and let him help me up. “The

newspaper said that flick was two hours long.”

“You said to go to the movies. You didn’t say I had to stay.”

And just like that, I was smiling again.

Rowan McBride

He caressed the curve of my ear, and I fought the urge to fall forward into him. “You

like me here. Why do you keep sending me away?”

Even though I tried to keep it in place, my smile slipped. My gaze traveled over his

ribbed tank top. His shoulders looked huge in that shirt, and his pecs were no different as

they pushed insistently at the white material, begging for attention. I did like having him

close. That was the problem. “You should get out there, learn how to have a life.”

“I already have a life. It’s you.”

I leaned forward. “Spade, what we got going is nice, but I can’t --”

The doorbell rang, cutting me off.

Spade glanced up. “You’re expecting someone?”

The word was released on a resigned sigh. “Jennika.” I swept up my T-shirt and pulled

it on over my head.

Frowns were so rare for him that it jarred me to see one on his face. “Jennika?”

Without explaining, I got up and answered the door.

Jennika Hart, a tall, willowy woman with raven hair, kissed me on the cheek and

breezed inside. “So how did it go? Did you make a killing Friday night?”

I smiled as I closed the door behind her. “Yeah.”

“How much?”

“Eight hundred fifty thou.”

Like an excited kid, she held out her hands and bounced up and down. It was always a

bizarre sight when she acted this way in her conservative business suit. I’d never known

someone to take such joy in breaking the law.

Shaking my head, I went into the living room. The bag hadn’t moved from that chair in

four days. I caught it up, tossed it to her.

Giggling, she looked inside. “Ohhh.

Fun

.”

One Good Hand

Spade walked in, and my heart lurched. I don’t know if it was the tank top or the jeans

or the light, but he looked big and sexy as hell.

Jennika noticed him instantly, slowly tilted her head back. “Holy cow. Did you know

that Superman was hanging out in your apartment, boss?”

“Superman has blue eyes,” I said absently, running my fingers through my hair. “That’s

Spade.”

“Spade?” She zipped up the bag and swung it over her shoulder, her attitude sobering.

“He a shark?”

“No. Actually, I don’t know.” I glanced at him. “Are you?”

His lips twitched, and he shook his head.

Jennika got protective, like she always did. I guess I couldn’t blame her, knowing what

she knew about me. “You want to talk shop in another room?”

“No, we can talk here.”

Spade shifted his gaze to her and, for the first time, looked interested in something

other than me.

Jennika ignored him. “Is he cool?”

I tried to dismiss the spark of jealousy that lit into me. “Frozen.”

“Nice?”

“Yes.”

“A tiger in the sack?”

“None of your business.”

She clapped her hands and threw herself into his arms. “Good enough for me!”

Spade caught her and tilted his head to the side.

“Wow,” she cooed, looking up at him. “Did you know you’re hard as a rock?”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Ace likes hard men.”

Rowan McBride

“Who doesn’t?” she asked, her voice soft. Then she caught herself and tapped the hands

linked behind her back. “Unlock the gate, please.”

His grin widened as he released her.

Jennika whistled and turned to me. “Dang, Ace. He almost made me forget my

wedding ring.”

The jealousy vanished. Although I’d never met her husband, I knew she was as devoted

as a person could be. “Thanks, again, for coming here on your lunch break to pick up the

cash.”

“Hey, not a problem. The ten percent you always give me guarantees my children can

go to any university they want.”

“Are you going to have a problem with that amount?”

She clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. “Please. I’ve handled a lot more than this

for you. Besides, I love finding ways to make your money look legit.”

I didn’t doubt it. And she was the best I’d ever seen. “Any action I should know about?”

She hesitated.

Jennika never hesitated unless it was something really bad. “What’s up?”

“It’s just a rumor, Ace. No one’s said for sure yet.”

Almost without me knowing it, my hand rested on the chair for support. “What’s the

rumor?”

“Angelo. He’s coming back to town.”

The chair didn’t do me a goddamned bit of good as my knees gave out.

Spade’s arms slipped around me, held me up.

“Why are you so fucking quick?” I asked, trying to distract myself from the cold

creeping into me.

“To keep you from falling.”

One Good Hand

I chuckled, looked at Jennika. “I’ve been living with this shit since Friday night.”

Her eyes were shining with unvoiced concern, but she kept her composure. “If Angel Z

does return to the Apple, what do you want me to do?”

“Whatever you can to keep him the fuck away from me. I don’t care how sweet he

makes the pot. Got it?”

She nodded.

My fingers tightened around Spade’s forearms before I pulled away from him. For once,

he let me go. “You’d better get back to your day job.”

“I-I can stay --”

“Go.”

She squeaked, then spun on her spiked heel and hurried out of my suite.

Which left me alone with…

“Who is --”

“Don’t ask.”

“But --”

I shot him a dark, sidelong glance. “

Don’t

.”

His muscles flexed with tension, but he obeyed. “Then can we talk about” -- he nodded

his head toward the front door -- “her?”

I tried to unclench my hands, but they were locked tight. “What about Jennika?”

“What is she to you, exactly?”

“My lawyer. She handles the legal and the…not-so-legal details of my life. Brilliantly.”

“She has very dark hair.”

“Yeah.”

“And she has green eyes.”

Where was he going with this? “She’s also mad as a hatter. So?”

Rowan McBride

“So…I can’t tell what you feel for her.”

Turned out those words were just the jolt I needed to unclench my fists. “Say what?”

Seeing the awkwardness in him was almost worth knowing that Angelo might be

coming back. “I can tell that you’re close, but I can’t figure out

how

close.”

Guess he didn’t know everything. That actually made me smile. “What’s it matter to

you?”

He slipped his hands into his back pockets, causing his chest to stress his tank top to its

breaking point. “I’m…” He glanced away. “I think I’m jealous.”

I stifled my laughter. “You don’t know for sure?”

He met my gaze again, and my laughter died away. I could see the knot of insecurity in

him. “I’ve never been jealous. Ever. I didn’t think I was even capable of the emotion.”

Had things just gotten more complicated between us? Not that I’d understood anything

before this. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.” He looked almost scared.

“Are you okay?”

His chest heaved as he took a long breath. “I need you to…”

“To what?”

“I need you to tell me what to do.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Tell me what you

want.”

Why did he have to lay that at my feet?

I already had an uncle slipping away from me;

a crazy, thrill-seeking lawyer; and…Angelo. My life was a house of cards, ready to topple at

any moment. It couldn’t take any more weight.

But I answered him, softly, without any of the panic I felt. “I want you to kiss me,

Spade.”

One Good Hand

He was quiet a few seconds, watching me. Trying to read me, maybe. I put on my

poker face, knowing no one could read

that

. Except…

Spade cupped my face in his hands, and I closed my eyes.

“So damned fast,” I whispered.

His mouth brushed over mine and I parted my lips to welcome a deeper caress. He

didn’t disappoint. He didn’t tease. His tongue and teeth were so skilled that my knees

threatened to give way again. But, for all that talent, he couldn’t make me forget.

As gently as I could, I broke the kiss. “I made a mistake. I can’t do this.”

His arms closed around me, and none of the insecurity I’d seen a few seconds ago

colored his tone. “Then we’ll do something else. Whatever you want.”

I was a man of very few interests, and a smile touched my lips. “Do you know how to

play poker?”

* * * * *

Two hours later, we were sitting on the living room carpet, playing five-card draw on

the floor.

Spade dropped two chips into the pot. “This is the best way to relax you?”

His long legs were spread wide; his thighs strained the seams of his blue jeans while his

cock bulged against his zipper. “Oh, yeah,” I said, calling his bet.

“You’re sure?”

“I can’t remember the last time I played for fun, with nothing at stake. This is great.”

He spread his cards on the carpet. “Even when you lose?”

“Three kings, not bad.” I chuckled as I tossed my own cards down. “Doesn’t beat a

straight, though.”

He tilted his head to the side, then looked at me. “Do you want to play again?”

“I always want to play. You let me know if I start to wear you out, okay?”

Rowan McBride

Spade grinned. “You can’t wear me out, Ace. I’m built for stamina.”

My gaze slid over his body as hot memories simmered through me. “No argument

there.” I noticed he was out of chips and swept half of mine over to his side.

“I’ve never seen a card player as generous as you.”

I smirked. “It’s easy to be generous when the chips have no value.”

He leaned forward. “Not just with this game. Friday, you could have walked away, but

you bet your entire stake to win me.”

“It wasn’t much of a gamble.” I shuffled the deck, cut it with one hand. “I had a straight

flush. Only a royal flush could have killed me.”

“You tried to set me free, and you tried to give me a hundred thousand dollars.”

I dealt our hands. “If I admit I’m generous, will you shut up and play?”

He arranged the cards he held. “That’s not why I brought it up.”

“So tell me.”

“Why did you do it?”

I thought back to that night. “The way Dallas talked about you. Like you were a thing,

or a pet. Like you didn’t deserve to be called a human being. Now I know you’re into that

whole order/obey scene, but you’re still human. He shouldn’t have talked that shit.”

Spade didn’t answer as he glanced down at his cards, quietly arranged them again.

I smiled. “Did you know that every time you’re getting ready to bluff, you rearrange

your cards?”

He glanced up. “Really?”

“Hasn’t failed yet.”

“How long have you known this?”

“For the last hour.” And I wasn’t at all apologetic as I admitted it.

He closed the fan of his cards and handed them to me. “Fresh deal?”

One Good Hand

I took them, shuffled them into the deck, and gave us both a new set of cards. “You’re

not bad at this.”

“You’re much better than I am.”

“That’s the thing about poker, though. Because I’m better, odds are I’ll beat you this

game and the next. But all you need is one good hand to win it all.”

Spade picked up his cards, but didn’t touch them after that. “You love this game, don’t

you?”

“As much as I wish otherwise, I just can’t help it.”

“You’re not as cynical as the other sharks I’ve seen.”

I discarded a deuce. “How long were you with Dallas?”

“Two and a half months.”

The image made me shudder. “Were you always with sharks?”

“No. I belonged to a Japanese businessman once. I was with a sheik for three years.”

“You speak a lot of languages?”

His mouth curved. “I learn what my master requires of me very quickly.”

Had I forced him to learn a lot of new things? “How long have you been with card

players?”

“A little over four years. I change ownership more often with gamblers. No matter how

attached they are to me, they never seem to hesitate over risking me in a game.”

I glanced away, feeling ashamed without really knowing why. “You shouldn’t take it

personally. When things are bad, it’s like quicksand. You keep struggling; you keep sinking.

You think if you can just get that card, it’ll be a lifeline, and suddenly you’re willing to risk

everything on the slim chance that you might get to keep breathing.”

Spade watched me a few seconds before setting down his cards. “Who is Angelo?”

A hollow burst of laughter escaped me. “Angelo is the definition of quicksand.”

Rowan McBride

“What did he do to you?”

My gaze drifted to the little pile of poker chips between us. “A few years ago he

cleaned me out. Took everything I had. It was so bad that I slept in a filthy, stinking alley for

months afterward.” I’d never been beaten so badly, before or since.

“You’re afraid of him?”

“Yes.”

“Want me to make you feel safe?”

My head shot up, and his smile made me smile. “You know,” I said, tossing my cards

over my shoulder and rising to my knees, “if Angelo is coming to town, everyone’s gonna

want a piece of the man who broke Ace Donovan.”

He bent his legs and rested his wrists on his knees. “Is that so?”

I fit myself between his hard thighs, linked my fingers behind his neck. “And since I

have no intention of ever seeing him again, I’m going to have some free time on my hands.”

That teasing spark lit his green eyes, and I decided I liked that about him. “I can make

you forget all about Angelo, if you want.”

I touched my mouth to his and spoke against his lips. “No. I just want

you

.”

His body started, but then he closed his arms around me. His chest pressed into mine as

he stood from the floor in one smooth movement.

Something wasn’t right. My feet were dangling well above the carpet. I pushed away

from him and dropped to the floor, studying him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked calmly.

Frowning, I took a step back. “You look taller.”

He closed the distance between us and lowered his head. “You like tall men.”

A statement, not a question. He did that a lot. “Why are you always telling me what I

like?”

One Good Hand

“It’s not true?”

“Yeah, it’s true, but --”

His long fingers skimmed down my cheek, just before he kissed me. My arms slipped

around his broad body; my tongue slipped into his mouth. The flush that went through me

gained top priority. Spade was mine.

And I could trust him.

Rowan McBride

Chapter Five

“Is this your card?”

I grinned. “It sure is. You haven’t lost your touch.”

Rick wiggled the fingers of his right hand. “Once you get the game in your blood, your

body never forgets the feel of the cards, even if your mind sometimes gets fuzzy.”

He was sharp today, and I found myself lingering over our usual time together. I’d sent

Spade to ride the Circle Line tour before I left the suite, so I didn’t have to worry about him.

That boat ride took a good three hours as it circled Manhattan. “Do you still love the game?

Even though you don’t play anymore?”

Settling back in his chair, he cut his deck in a dozen intricate ways as he considered his

answer. “Yeah. I still dream in red and black, flushes and straights.”

My lips parted. “I do too.”

“I know.” He turned his head, smiled. “You have that same magic inside of you. That

same joy. You wish you could change the world with a card.”

The cold that had plagued me since Jennika’s visit a few days ago seeped into my veins.

“But you can’t.”

His brow furrowed. “What’s with you, kid? You look busted.”

One Good Hand

I wasn’t his Ace, but he

was

my uncle. And I couldn’t talk to anyone else. Not about

this. “The only shark to ever eat me alive is in town.”

He made a soft sound of understanding. “He comin’ for you?”

“Most likely. I’m number one now.”

“You gonna face him across the table?”

I’d said no way in hell, but I hadn’t been able to let it go. “I’m thinking about it. Angelo

stole something big from me last time. I’d like a chance to get it back. Some of it back.”

“

Angelo

?” Rick shot to his feet. “Ace! Tell me you’re not mixed up with

Angelo

Zavala

!”

He stormed closer, and for the first time in years, he was looking at me.

. His flesh

and blood. “Y-you know who I am?”

“

Of course I know

! And I’ll be

damned

if I let that sonovabitch get his hooks into my

nephew like

he did into me

!”

“Uncle Rick…” I stared up at him in shock. “You know Angelo?”

His fists clenched as he paced the small area in front of the picture window. “He’s the

shark that got me. He’s the reason… He’s the reason I lost you.”

The cold inside me burst into flame.

Angelo

Angelo had been fucking up my life before

I’d even met him

“I’m going to kill him,” I whispered. “I’m going to take everything he’s ever owned,

and I’m going to make him watch while I burn it to the ground.”

“No!” Rick grabbed my shoulders. “Listen to me, kid. Angelo Zavala isn’t like anybody

else out there. He’s

blessed ice

. He’s got the luck, and he’s got the skill. You don’t know what

he can do to you.”

“Trust me,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “I have a pretty good idea.”

Rowan McBride

Panicking, he gave me a rough shake. “Ace! Listen to me!”

Orderlies and nurses rushed toward us, and I stood up, holding out my hand to stop

them. “It’s okay. Really.”

Rick settled down, so they reluctantly moved off to a safe distance.

“Ace, don’t go after him. I’m begging you.”

I turned, looking into his eyes as I ran my knuckles over his weathered cheek. “I’ll

make things right. I promise.”

“Jesus, Ace. I can’t lose you again.”

Ace. For so long, I’d just wanted to be seen. Not as a foster kid, not as some homeless

guy, or even as a great card player. Just Ace. I wrapped my arms around him, held him tight.

“Thank you, Uncle Rick, for everything you’ve given me. I’m going to be all right, and you

never have to worry about me again.” Trying not to choke on the lie I’d just told him, I

pulled back, stroked his white hair. “I’ve always loved you, and I’ll never stop. If you forget

everything else, remember that, okay?”

“Ace,” he whispered.

I wanted to stay, to be real in his eyes a little while longer, but tears were rising

between us. I didn’t want the memory of them to stick with him. “I have to go now. I’m

sorry.”

“Don’t. Please.”

His plea almost broke me, but I loved him too much to let that happen. I kissed his

forehead, murmured more promises that might not be kept, and walked away. Just before I

left the recreation room, I heard Felicia offer him something to drink, and I heard him ask if

she’d seen his nephew.

Once outside of Sunnyville, I dialed Jennika’s direct number.

“Hello, this is Jennika Hart.”

“Angelo set up a game yet?”

One Good Hand

There was a long silence at the other end of the line. “Boss, maybe you should --”

“Has he?”

“Y-yes. On the Upper East Side, in fact. A hop, skip, and jump from you.”

“Has he challenged me?”

“No, but he said that he’ll hold a spot for you, if you want it.”

Sneaky bastard. That way it was

his

game, his rules. “Buy-in?”

“Five million.”

“Raise cap?”

“None.”

“Limit?”

“None.”

Angelo always played to win it all. Would I lose a piece of my soul, like last time? “Tell

him I’ll be there.”

“Ace, there’s a condition to you being allowed to play.”

I frowned. “What is it?”

“He says you have to bring the guy you’ve been living with.”

“Spade? Why?”

“Says he wants to get a look at him.”

Shit. I knew damned well it was more than that, but I wasn’t going to bet Spade, so it

should be fine. “Deal.”

“Are you sure?”

My hand tightened on the phone. “Set it up.”

“Okay, boss. Be careful. You know what Angel Z is like.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Rowan McBride

The line went dead. I hit the reset button and called a taxi.

I was collected as I rode home in the cab, calm as I took the elevator up to my suite. I

opened the door and knew instantly that Spade wasn’t there.

Thank God. I needed to be alone. I was about to shatter.

I sprinted into the bedroom, stumbled into the bathroom. My fingers trembled so badly

that I could only get the top two buttons of my shirt undone, so I whipped it off over my

head. I stripped the rest of my clothing in clumsy, jerky movements and climbed into the

tub. I fumbled to turn on the shower, but could only manage to turn on the main head. The

hot spray beat down on me, and I gave up on the other two.

Call

…

Raise

…

I dropped my forehead against the tile. Every nightmare I’d ever had centered around

Angelo.

Fold

…

Win

…

I had to take him down. For me. For my uncle. I wasn’t sure I was good enough. He

could see into me, knew all my secrets, knew how to use them. He’d ripped something vital

out of me, something I could never get back.

Lose

…

His face flashed in my vision, and I shuddered. Warm and laughing. Cold and ruthless.

I sank lower, my cheek sliding against the tile, until I was on the floor of the tub, hugging

my knees to my chest. How could I win against Angel Z? I had worshiped him, hated him,

but I had never come close to

bea ing

him.

I don’t know how long I sat there under the water, curled into a tight ball. Hours,

maybe. Days, for all I cared.

did

know the moment Spade stepped into the room, even before he spoke.

One Good Hand

“Ace.”

Keeping my head bowed, I clutched my legs tighter. “Can’t you see I’m taking a

shower?”

The rhythm of the shower spray shifted, and I glanced up to see Spade -- fully clothed

in a white T-shirt and faded blue jeans -- climb into the tub and sit across from me.

“What the hell are you doing?” I asked softly, bewildered.

The water matted his black hair to his head, streamed down his torso to make his shirt

transparent while darkening his jeans. “You’re shaking.”

“No shit.”

“Why?”

“I-I think it’s an anxiety attack or something.”

He reached for me, but dropped his hand when I shrank away. “Do you have them

often?”

“Not for a long time. Not since I made sure my uncle would always have the care he

needs.”

“Your uncle is ill?”

“Alzheimer’s.”

“He was your one responsibility.”

It wasn’t a question, but I answered. “Yes.”

“And now you have me.”

“Yes.” I couldn’t look at him. “I’m playing Angelo, in his game. I’ll ask Jennika to try

and get this suite signed over to you. At least then you’ll have a place to stay if things go

south. But if I give you any more, they’ll accuse me of trying to hide my assets. Of being too

weak and scared to play a man’s game.”

“So much stress, Ace. Would you like me to relieve you of it?”

Rowan McBride

I lifted my head, blinked against the water flowing into my eyes. “H-how?”

“First, you let the one who makes you feel safe wrap his arms around you.”

Even through my blurry, water-soaked vision, I could see the strength in his face, the

gentleness. I loosened the death grip on my legs.

Spade leaned forward, gathered me into his arms, and settled me so that my back rested

against his chest. His long, denim-covered legs framed mine. “Second, we close the shower

door so that the steam can build around us.”

I watched as he slid the glass forward, gave a small jump when it clicked shut.

“And third, a bath is vastly superior to a shower when you need to relax.” Using the

heel of his foot, he turned off the shower, then used his toes to turn the porcelain lever

handle and adjust the temperature.

The water rose around us, covering my bare legs before it slipped over his jeans.

His warm hand skimmed over my chest, kneaded my muscles. “How’s that?”

His other hand dipped to my leg, massaged my thigh. “I-I feel better.”

“You’re scared.”

The words spilled out of me, and I found myself sharing what I’d thought I couldn’t

share with anyone. It was like I was someplace faraway, watching myself say them. “When I

was thirteen, my uncle got caught up in a high-stakes game. He lost everything: car, house,

all his savings. Because of that, social services took me away and put me in foster care. I kept

trying to find him, but no one would tell me anything. I didn’t track him down until I was

twenty-one, and he was already…sick.”

Spade didn’t say anything, just kept soothing the tension from my body.

I couldn’t stop talking. “Eight years… Eight years where I could have been playing

with him, laughing with him. Gone. And I found out today that

Angelo

was the one who’d

taken them from me. I can’t let him get away with that. I can’t let him get away with… I

can’t…”

One Good Hand

“You feel alone in this.”

The sound that was supposed to be my answer was inarticulate, gurgling.

He lowered his head, touched his cheek to mine. “I’ll come to your game, if you want.

That way you’ll see me, and remember this moment. You’ll remember that I belong to you,

that I’ll do anything for you, and you’ll draw strength from that.”

My hands twisted into his wet jeans. I

had

to bring him along, and Angelo had a wild

card up his sleeve. Something dangerous, no doubt. Spade didn’t know about any of that. “I

won’t bet you.” My grip tightened in the denim. “I

won’t

.”

“Shh.” He pressed his lips to the crook of my shoulder. “Don’t worry about that now.”

He had so much trust in me, more than I had in myself. “Ah, fuck.”

I felt him smile against my skin. “All right.”

Spade released me, but when I started to turn around, he pinned me in place with his

thighs. “What are you --”

The shower door opened just long enough to let his T-shirt fall to a sopping heap on

the floor. His big hands covered my shoulders and gently pulled me back against his body.

I gasped a rocky, shuddering breath when he flexed his chest into me.

“Did you like that?”

My mouth worked, but I couldn’t seem to form any words.

He chuckled and did it again. The muscles pushed against me; his nipples rubbed over

my skin. A different kind of trembling took hold of my body.

His hand traveled downward, traced the faint outline of each of my abdominal

muscles. The pad of his middle finger circled my navel, then delved lower, into my pubic

hair.

“I like that your hair is red all over,” he said into my ear before kissing the curve of my

neck.

Rowan McBride

I gripped his thighs, feeling as if I were hanging on for dear life. His quads were stone

hard, and my fingers couldn’t dent them.

Spade’s other hand tweaked my nipple as he flexed his thighs, spreading my fingers

apart.

My back arched, and I shoved myself against his body, pressing my ass against the

bulge in his crotch.

He ignored my invitation, choosing instead to keep his jeans on as he closed his fingers

around my cock. He squeezed lightly before gliding his fist up and down my already erect

shaft. His left arm looped around me, and he cupped my balls.

It was too much sensation, too much pleasure. “Spade…”

“It’s all right, Ace. I know your body better than I know my own. I won’t let you come

before you’re ready.”

Too late

. The eruption was already starting.

Spade’s right hand paused on my prick; his palm firmed against the flesh.

The urgency eased, just slightly, just enough to keep me from losing it.

I turned my head to find him watching me, his forest green eyes intent on me as a

smile played on his lips. Awkwardly, I reached up and slipped my hand into his hair as I

drew him to my mouth. His tongue caressed mine as his hand resumed its rhythm on my

cock. The strokes mirrored each other, making it impossible to tell where my body ended

and his began.

I groaned, then whimpered softly.

His fist paused at the top of my shaft, and his lips moved on to kiss my temple, my

cheek.

Dazed with arousal, I caressed the underside of his arm. The muscles were so defined

that his triceps felt like horseshoes beneath my palm. Tendrils of steam rose off the water, off

our bodies, curled around us.

One Good Hand

Spade used his thumb to trace my glans, and my breath stalled.

His teeth tugged on my earlobe, and I sucked in a lungful of air.

He flexed his chest, his thighs, his arms, went back to stroking my cock, my balls.

Water sloshed over the edge of the tub and against the glass partition. He lifted his

foot, turned it off. Then he draped his leg over mine, letting me feel the weight.

My breathing seemed loud in the sudden quiet, but I couldn’t think beyond his hands,

his body. I wanted him to be with me forever, even though I knew it was impossible for a

man like me.

“I’m yours, Ace. For as long as you want me.”

The soft statement sent a jolt through my body that pushed more water over the sides

of the tub, sending more ripples splashing against the glass. Had I… Had I said that last part

out loud?

His teeth grazed my shoulder, and I decided there was no harm done if I had.

That hot pressure built again, and this time it was welcome. My hips pumped into his

hand to signal I was ready.

One of his fingers pressed between my balls as his other hand gave me one last

powerful stroke.

I shouted his name as my entire body blew out of control; he held me close as I

thrashed in the water. He didn’t let go after I settled, and I was…grateful.

I tasted salt and hastily wiped the moisture from my face.

“Are you crying?”

“No,” I said, unable to tell the lie while looking at him.

His tone was teasing, gentle. “All right.”

Embarrassment flooded me, but I didn’t want to leave his arms.

Spade drew me closer, then slipped his arms underneath me as he rose out of the water.

Rowan McBride

Surprised, I clutched at his shoulders. Then, realizing he held me steady, I looked at his

biceps.

The first time he’d held me this way, the muscles in his arms had swelled to the size of

baseballs. Now they were almost twice as big. He couldn’t have packed on so much mass. Not

in the short time he’d been staying here. I glanced up to ask him about it, but his lips on my

forehead distracted me.

He lowered me to my feet, keeping both hands on my body. Slowly, he crouched

down, his slick torso sliding against my naked skin. His eyes never left mine as he drained

the tub and turned on the shower.

“What are you doing?” I asked, leaning forward.

His mouth crooked as he rose, towering over me. He reached up, removed the

detachable showerhead, and held it over my head. “Rinsing.”

I closed my eyes, felt each individual spray of water as it hit my skin. It traveled over

my shoulders, my stomach, my legs. I opened my eyes when it lingered on my ass, only to

find him grinning at me.

He guided the water to the small of my back, to my shoulder blades, before returning

the showerhead to its place and switching it off. “How do you feel?”

My fingers trailed down the center line of his abs, and my voice was soft as I kissed his

wet skin. “Clean.” I reached for his jeans, started to unfasten the clasp.

His hand settled over mine, pausing me. “Ready again so soon?”

Glancing up, I tugged a little at his waistband. “I just want to make sure you…” I lost

my courage, but Spade was able to finish the thought.

“Come?” Confusion, faint but definitely there, flitted over his features. “You wanted to

make sure I had an orgasm?”

I nodded.

“Why would you want that?”

One Good Hand

The question caught me off guard, and I fumbled around for an explanation. I couldn’t

find an eloquent one. I couldn’t even find a complete sentence. “For you.”

“Me?” He glided his large knuckles up my cheek. “You’re not like most men, Ace.”

“Why are you always comparing me to other men?”

His mouth curved in an apologetic smile. “Forgive me. Sometimes I think out loud. I

only meant that you’re unique.” He lowered his head. “In a good way.”

Not sure what to make of that, I went back to the clasp of his jeans.

Again he stopped me. “That isn’t necessary.”

“But --”

“I came when you did.”

I frowned. “In your pants?”

“Yes,” he said, and he didn’t look at all embarrassed.

“That couldn’t have been good for you.”

His smile returned. “It was an explosion in my core that roared through me until even

my nerve endings were afire. I’m surprised the water around us didn’t roll into a boil.”

Stunned, I looked away. “That’s how I felt.”

He hooked my chin with his forefinger and lifted my gaze to meet his. “Your pleasure

is my pleasure, Ace.”

“You never let up with that. Not for a minute. Not for a second.” It wasn’t an

admonishment. I just wanted to understand.

His expression sobered. “I’m sorry. Everyone has desires, but having them fulfilled

takes a great deal of strength.” His hand fell away from me. “Human beings are so strange.

They can actually take more

pain

than pleasure. Why is that?”

Rowan McBride

I’d never seen any kind of sadness in him before, and it brought a realization I hadn’t

been prepared to receive. “That’s why you change hands so often, isn’t it? You’re too good at

what you do.”

His thick arms hung stiffly at his sides. “I’m incapable of changing what I am.”

So alone. I knew what that was like. Suddenly, desperately, I didn’t want him to hurt

anymore. I threw myself forward and hugged him tight. “I won’t bet you.” I knew I sounded

like a broken record, but it was all I had. “I won’t, Spade.”

His body stayed locked a few taut moments before he encircled me with his arms.

My head shot up. “I want you naked.”

His eyebrows lifted, but he nodded. “Anything else?”

“I want to order Chinese takeout.”

His lips twitched. “I can make you --”

“No, I want it delivered. In those little white boxes. And I want to eat it with

chopsticks while sitting on the pristine living room carpet. I don’t actually know how to

use

chopsticks, but you lived with that Japanese guy for a while, so you know, and you’ll teach

me.”

The twitching turned into a full smile. “Beer?”

“Oh, definitely. And we’ll play poker with soy sauce packets and fortune cookies

instead of chips. After that I’ll show you some of the magic tricks my uncle taught me. Then

we’ll dim the lights and turn on the music, and we’ll have sex on the carpet. Got it?”

He laughed. Full. Booming. “Whatever you want, Ace.”

I wanted one perfect night where I got to be close to him and he got a master, such as I

was. Just in case…

Just in case this was good-bye.

One Good Hand

Chapter Six

His hands roamed over my body. I whispered his name as he kissed my heated skin,

groaned when he licked away the beads of sweat pooled at the base of my throat

My eyes fluttered open, and I saw him grinning down at me. “What’s…” I swallowed,

blinked away the sleep. “What’s going on?”

Spade threaded his fingers through my hair. “Why would you have a wet dream about

me when I’m right here?”

Gradually, I realized we were in bed. He must have carried me here. “How did you

know --”

He kissed me. Slow. Thorough.

“How did --”

He kissed me again.

“How --”

And again.

I smiled against his lips and urged him closer. His weight made it a little hard to

breathe, but I enjoyed it too much to say anything about it. My fuzzy mind tried to tell me

something was off. I was too swept up to focus.

Rowan McBride

Spade’s heavy chest pressed me deeper into the mattress as I skimmed my hands over

his shoulders. So broad. My hands couldn’t even cup over the rounded muscles capping

them.

It wasn’t this way before. He was so big. And

thick

. “Spade.” He seemed to swell

beneath my palms, his skin stretching tighter with every caress. “You feel --”

“Exactly how you want me to feel,” he murmured, his face buried in the curve of my

neck. “Large enough to surround you, to give you that feeling of security you crave so

much.”

I pushed on his shoulders, but he was too solid, too strong. “I want to see you.”

Spade paused. Then his long arm reached out to turn on the lamp. He straightened to

his knees, looked down at me.

At first, I couldn’t comprehend what I saw.

Every inch of him was swollen with thick, hard muscle. His pecs jutted out from his

chest, and in the soft light they formed shadows that darkened his torso. The rigid blocks of

his abs expanded and contracted powerfully with even the slightest breath. His shoulders,

biceps, and triceps had all become boulders, and his thighs were two massive columns of

dense flesh.

“Spade?”

“You like big men,” he said softly.

I rubbed at my eyes, muddled by arousal and exhaustion. “I’m…I’m still dreaming?”

“No, Ace. I’ve become what you want.”

Fear crept in, forced my senses awake. Cautiously, I moved away from him and eased

out of bed. His green eyes followed me, but otherwise he didn’t move. “I don’t understand.”

A gentle smile touched his lips. “I didn’t cut my hair, and I didn’t dye it. I didn’t spend

any time in a tanning booth, and you were right before. I have grown taller.” Slowly, he left

One Good Hand

the bed and rose to his full height. “You were the one who transformed me. You made me

into the man you want.”

My body thumped against the wall as my head tilted back. God, he had to be over

seven feet tall now. “M-me?”

“I’ve been many things, Ace. Short, tall, thin, lean. I’ve had blond hair and brown hair

and hair redder than yours. I’ve been Asian, and Arab, and African.” He ran his hand over

his broad chest, grinning. “But I’ve never, ever been quite so…big.”

My head spun as I tried to push myself deeper into the wall. “Wh-what are you?”

“I am Senai. A genetically engineered servant.”

The world was getting dark, small. Knowing I didn’t want to hear the answer, I still

couldn’t stop myself from asking the question. “Who engineered you?”

He took a step closer, causing the muscles in his body to ripple, but stopped when I

gasped. “The Kaznians. Ingenious entrepreneurs. They manufacture and sell us to over three

hundred planets. The cargo ship transporting me had a navigation malfunction and crashed

here, on your world.”

The way he spoke, it was like always: calm, gentle. I felt like there should have been

more drama to it, more emotion. Because he was killing me. “Y-you were manufactured?

Like a robot?”

His tone softened to the one he used whenever he was putting me at ease. “I’m organic.

My heart beats, just like yours.”

“Spade,” I whispered.

He drew in a deep breath. “That name. You chose so well. A part of you that is now a

part of me. It established our bond instantly, allowed me to link with you more quickly than

I ever had with anyone.”

“L-link?”

Rowan McBride

“I’m designed to fulfill all of my master’s desires. As Senai, I’m able to form a psychic

connection with you. I absorb your essence. What you want becomes what I want, and I give

it to you. It’s more powerful now than ever, because yesterday you opened yourself to me

when we were in the bath together.”

Senai…engineered…master…servant…

My knees buckled, and I slid down the wall, to the floor. Helplessly, I stared into his

leaf green eyes.

It was happening again. Like it had with Angelo. I’d given. I’d trusted. I’d fallen. And it

was all

fake

Spade’s gaze focused, grew intent. “You loved him, didn’t you? He took your virginity,

and then he betrayed you. That’s why you shy away from relationships, from sex.”

“

Get out of my head

!” I curled forward, fisted my hands into my hair.

Angelo. He’d known my potential, and so he’d found me, welcomed me into his home

and his bed. You can learn a lot about a person by having sex with them, by watching them

sleep, and he’d learned

everything

because he was my first.

The memories made me shake. The way he looked across the table, the way he’d used

my every tell to beat me again and again. When I’d realized what he was doing to me, I tried

to fight back, but I had no defense, and he wrecked me. Just like I was being wrecked now.

A pair of large hands touched my shoulders, and I scrambled away from him. “Don’t

touch me!

Don’t ever touch me again

!”

Spade straightened, surprise flickering over his face. “You feel so alone. Why won’t you

let me fix that?”

“Because you

can’t

.” I lurched to my feet and stumbled into the closet. “You lied to me

to get what you wanted.” I yanked a pair of pants off a hanger. “You’re just like…just like…”

“I’m not Angelo. I’d never betray you.”

One Good Hand

“You already have.” I threw on my slacks and didn’t bother with a shirt as I ran out of

the bedroom.

Spade caught me just before I reached the front door. “Ace, please don’t run away. It’s a

lot to absorb, but I’m everything you’ll ever want. I can make you happy, and free, and” --

his arms tightened around me -- “safe.”

I felt tiny as he surrounded me in his gentle embrace. But I didn’t feel safe. “I told you

not to touch me.”

His arms immediately fell away from my body. I was still his master.

“I’m going to Central Park. You’re not allowed to follow me. You have to stay here, in

the suite. Got it?”

He frowned. “Central Park at this time of night? You’re angry, I know, but you should

take me along. To protect you.”

My fists clenched so tight that my nails cut into my palms. “You can’t protect me.

Don’t you see that? Right before the biggest game of my

life

, and I’m open and raw and easy

prey.

You

did that to me, Spade.”

His lips parted. “Ace.”

I opened up a little drawer in a small table near the door, pulled out my keycard and an

actual key. “Stay here.” Once I’d stuffed my feet into a pair of shoes, I flung open the door

and stormed into the hallway. “I mean it.”

He stiffened, but his big body stayed rooted to that spot.

I slammed the door on him and stalked to the elevator. It opened almost as soon as I

scanned my card, but I didn’t go down. I went up, to the roof. Most residents didn’t have

access, but I’d managed to get a spare key off of a security guard, and I used it now.

The chill air sluiced over my bare torso, making me shiver. I hadn’t been here

since…God, since last fall. But at the moment this was the only space in New York where I

could get a little privacy, a little quiet.

Rowan McBride

I shuffled across the roof, to the ledge. I stared at the skyline a while before dropping

down and huddling against the low wall to shield myself from the wind. The brick was

rough and cold against my skin.

“Put on your poker face,” I whispered.

It wouldn’t come. I hurt too much.

Which meant I was as good as dead at Angelo’s game.

I shuddered. Then I counted cards under my breath.

“High card, pair, two pair…”

I was going to lose.

“Three of a kind, straight, flush…”

What made me think I was strong enough to take down Angel Z?

“Full house, four of a kind, straight flush…”

The cards were in my blood. I was Ace Donovan. A great white shark.

“Royal flush…”

Spade

When Angelo betrayed me, I hated him. I couldn’t feel anything else. I couldn’t think

anything else. It ruined my game. Getting back on my feet took almost a year, and I never

stopped hating him. I never stopped wanting to hurt him.

But it was different with Spade. I didn’t want to hate him. I didn’t want to hurt him. I

just wanted to

not know

what he was. I wanted to believe that he really cared for me. I

wanted to --

“This isn’t Central Park.”

My head shot up. He stood there, dressed in a burgundy shirt and a pair of dark slacks.

He held a coat in his left hand. “I told you to stay in the suite.”

“You did.”

One Good Hand

“Then why the fuck are you here? You’re supposed to do whatever I want, aren’t you?”

His hand tightened in the coat, causing the cords in his forearm to flex and writhe.

“I’ve never gone against the desires of my master. Not once.”

“And yet you’re on the roof.”

“Yes.”

“How did you even get up here?”

His answer was simple. Calm. “I disabled the security system, and then I broke the

lock.”

I frowned in confusion. Ritzy places like this had top-notch alarm systems. “How did

you do that?”

The smile, a subtle lift at the corner of his mouth, chilled me. “I’ve been used for

purposes other than sex, Ace.”

Christ almighty. I really didn’t know anything about him, about the things he’d done.

He’d been so gentle with me that I never considered he might be dangerous. Even now,

when he was both familiar and so unfamiliar, I couldn’t imagine any of his previous lives.

My gaze traveled over his sock-covered feet, up his long legs, to his impossibly broad

chest. I’d never known anyone this huge, and he was just standing there. Why had he

followed me?

“Because you’re cold, and alone, and scared. I felt it, and I came to fix what I could.”

In my head again

. He approached me, and I pushed myself hard into the wall behind

me.

Spade stopped, then held out the coat.

Hesitantly, I reached up, took it. I eased myself into it as he crouched before me. His

muscles bunched and swelled with the new position.

“How do your clothes still fit?” I asked softly.

Rowan McBride

“Nothing I bought with the money you gave me will accommodate this new size. What

I’m wearing now is my own clothing. It’s what I wore the night we met.”

My brow furrowed. “That’s not leather.”

The material swirled over his body; the colors shifted and darkened. Suddenly he wore

a skintight black T-shirt with the sleeves torn off, and a pair of leather pants stretched tightly

over his legs. “It responds to my thoughts. Dallas was fond of an edgy, street-punk look.” The

clothes swirled again, returned to the burgundy and black. “You liked this outfit very much.

Do you remember?”

It was the first time we’d had sex. It was the first time he’d said I could trust him. “I

remember your eyes. With the shirt, they looked like…like…”

He smiled. “Like emeralds set against a jeweler’s cloth?”

“Stop that,” I whispered.

“I’m sorry.”

“What do you really look like?”

“I don’t have a true form. I only have the form my owner gives me.”

I wrapped the coat tighter around my body. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I should have. I usually explain everything to a new master within the first forty-eight

hours. But you… You wanted to set me free, and you gave me things, and you tried to put

my interests before your own. I didn’t know masters could be as you, and yet you’re so

fragile. I had no idea how best to serve you.”

Serve. “You crashed here? From another planet?”

He nodded.

“Roswell?”

Spade chuckled. “That was a little before my time.”

“How old are you, really?”

One Good Hand

“I’ve never lied to you, Ace. Senai reach maturity at around eighteen years, and the

ship crashed when I was that age. Now I’m thirty-two.”

“A-are there more like you here?”

“Twenty-five survived. At first, we tried to stay together, but we had no choice. We

were forced to scatter.”

“Why?”

“It’s a biological imperative. We must have a master, or we die.”

That’s why he wouldn’t let me set him free. He needed me, just to stay alive. Nothing

more, nothing less.

“I’ve enjoyed my time as your Senai, Ace. You are a fine master.”

The more he spoke, the more isolated I felt. “That’s all you see, isn’t it? A master.

Angelo sees a mark. Jennika sees a boss who gives her a guilty little thrill she doesn’t want to

lose.

God only knows

what my uncle sees on any given day.”

He leaned forward. “I see you, Ace. Better than anyone ever could.”

Tears pricked at my eyelids. “Do you even like me?”

“I live for you. It’s as --”

“

It’s not as simple as that

!” I dragged myself to my feet. I only came up to the center of

his stomach now. “Your life

depends

on your master, so how can I trust you? How can I ever

know if anything you say is real? As soon as you get a new owner, you won’t give a

damn

about me! You’ll

forget

!”

Spade leaned down, cupped my face in his hand. “I’d never forget you.”

I knocked his hand away. “That shit I said about not betting you doesn’t stand

anymore. You know that, right?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he nodded.

Rowan McBride

“And you sleep in the guest room from now on. I don’t want you in my bed. You can

feel that?”

Slowly, he straightened, and the gentle expression never left his face. “Yes.”

I walked past him, returned to my suite, and counted cards until the sun rose.

One Good Hand

Chapter Seven

I hit

Lobby

and stared at the lighted button as the elevator made its way downward.

My backpack felt heavy, but it should. Although I’d already paid the buy-in, I was carrying

an extra two million on my shoulder. It wasn’t all I had, but my markers were good. If I

chose to bet everything I owned, no one would have a problem with it.

“Ace.”

I didn’t take my eyes off that button. “What.”

“You’re different tonight. I can’t tell what you’re thinking, or even what you’re

feeling.”

Usually, no matter the stakes, I let a part of myself play for fun. But sometimes, when

the game meant more than money, I cut myself off from my own heart, my soul. All to win.

“That’s good. With any luck, Angelo won’t be able to read me, either.”

He fell quiet.

My gaze slid over to him. Tonight he wore a pair of black chino trousers that hugged

his thick thighs as well as his rounded ass. The buttons on his black shirt were crimson,

matching the shock of color splashed over his right side. His biceps tested the circumference

Rowan McBride

of his short sleeves, and his pecs were practically rebelling against the indignity of being

covered.

Spade glanced down at me. “Would you like to fuck in the elevator?”

We hadn’t touched in days. He was a seamless, carnal blend of everything I’d ever

thought desirable, but at the moment I was too dead to appreciate that. “No.”

He tilted his head to the side, watching me.

“Do you care?” I asked softly. “That I don’t want to have sex?”

No response.

I tried again. “Do you care that you might be changing hands tonight?”

Still nothing.

“Do you want a new master?”

“I want what you want.”

I went back to staring at the lighted button. “That’s a piss-poor answer.”

“Ace.” His hands covered my shoulders, gently turned me to face him. “I want what

you want.”

“You said that already.”

“But you’re not hearing me. You want happiness. You want peace. It seems that I can

no longer give you these things. If that’s the case, then you should pass me to someone else,

because I want you to have them.”

I stared up into his leaf green eyes, feeling nothing.

His fingers tightened on me. “This thing you’re doing to yourself…” He lowered his

voice. “It’s hurting you. Emptiness isn’t your strength. Passion is the source of your talent.”

“Does it make you weak when you can’t make a connection with me?”

He stepped back, his hands slipping from my shoulders. “Yes.”

One Good Hand

“Don’t worry.” The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. “No matter what happens,

you’re not coming home with me tonight.”

I walked out and didn’t look back, knowing he had no choice but to follow.

* * * * *

The game was only a few blocks from my suite, so I didn’t bother with a taxi. It was

being held on the seventh floor of a luxury high-rise, in an empty apartment rented on the

sly from the building manager for one night. The card table had already been set up in the

center of the living room, and I saw a few familiar faces milling around. Mostly New York

sharks, but a couple from out of town.

Most of them weren’t here to play, I knew. They just smelled the blood in the water.

“Ace!”

I turned around, smiled when I saw the man running toward me. He had been bald the

last time I’d seen him, but the cornrows were a good look for him. “Nathan. What are you

doing here? You like dice, not cards.”

He grabbed my hand. “I heard Angel Z was going back to the Apple, and that you

finally decided to take the asshole down. Flew out here from Motor City just to see it.”

“How’s the action in Detroit?”

“Man, you know it’s always hot in my town. Or has it been that long since you’ve

visited?”

Win or lose, I didn’t want to be in this city after it was done. “Maybe I’ll come out next

week. Set something up for me?”

Nathan clapped me on the shoulder. The one thing he loved more than dice was

lighting a match under a game. “Sure thing. Give me a call.”

Give me a call

. Because he knew damned well I might not have a phone number for

him to dial come morning.

Rowan McBride

I watched as he left me to network through the apartment. Nathan was definitely a

mover, and he was probably the only one here my age. And the only one who thought there

was a slim chance that I could take the pot tonight.

“Ace Donovan.”

I didn’t need to find the source of the voice to recognize it. “Big Mike. I see you’re still

tagging after Angelo wherever he goes.”

“What can I say? Everyone likes a winner.” He walked around, looked me over.

“Christ, you’re as skinny as you were when you were a guppy.”

I didn’t say anything, just let my gaze rest briefly on his beer gut.

Mike narrowed his eyes, but then pretended he hadn’t seen it. “What’s this?” he asked,

leering at Spade. “Get yourself a bodyguard? I guess a little guy like you would need one.” He

reached out, squeezed Spade’s biceps. “How big are these guns, man?”

The flash of movement was so fast that my eyes couldn’t follow. Suddenly, Spade held

Mike immobile, one hand on his shoulder, the other locked around his wrist as he bent his

arm behind his back.

“What the fuck!”

Still holding him that way, Spade lifted him into the air. Although he spoke into Mike’s

ear, his voice carried through the room. “Only my master can touch me without my

permission.”

Mike’s legs flailed helplessly, and each movement only brought him more pain.

“Lemme go!”

It was quite a sight. Mike was six-four, at least, and he had to weigh close to three

hundred pounds. But Spade held him effortlessly, his face relaxed, impassive. This was a

weakened state for him?

“I thought this was supposed to be a friendly game.”

One Good Hand

The voice, so familiar even after all this time, washed over me. I closed my eyes a

second, took a small breath, and turned to look at Angelo Zavala.

He stood in the doorway, his cobalt eyes a sharp, cold contrast to his smooth brown

skin. The wine-colored shirt he wore clung lovingly to his lean body, as did his navy slacks.

A smile played on his full lips as he slipped his hands into his pockets. “

Hola

, Ace.”

Every bit as smooth as I remembered. I didn’t break his gaze, didn’t show any

expression. “Put Mike down, Spade.”

Spade did as he was told, and Mike scurried to stand behind Angelo, rubbing his arm.

Angelo ignored him, his stride easy as he closed the distance between us.

The room went quiet as all eyes riveted to his approach.

He stopped inches before me, and I found myself eye level with his chest. For a fleeting

moment, I felt like that kid again, the one who had stared in awe at the great Angel Z. Then

the moment passed, and I tilted my head back to meet his gaze. Those piercing eyes were

intent, focused. But there were no cracks in my wall. Not anymore.

A slow smile curved his mouth as he trailed his fingers along my jaw. “You’ve learned a

few tricks while I was away, yes?”

I didn’t say anything, didn’t feel anything.

He lowered his head, his spiced words caressing my ear. “So tell me, Ace. When you’re

really, really excited, do you still forget to breathe?”

I leaned forward, replied just as silkily. “You will never take my breath away again.”

Grinning, Angelo straightened, switched his attention to Spade. “This is the man you

have won from Dallas?”

“That’s Spade,” I said, my voice cool as I wondered how much he knew.

Angelo chuckled. Warm. Sultry. “That is the name you chose for him?” He looked up

into his eyes. “Do not fret,

marioneta

. When you are mine, I will gift you with one that is

much better.”

Rowan McBride

It didn’t surprise me that he intended to take Spade away. I knew he was going to try to

take everything from me tonight.

Murmuring in Spanish, he circled Spade’s body, shaking his head. “What have you

done to your toy, Ace? He is garishly tall and horribly bloated.”

So he knew what Spade really was. What was his angle? How was he going to play this

card?

Angelo completed his circle and looked up into Spade’s eyes. “Green?” He winked at

me. “I remember a time when you only wanted blue.”

“Things change.”

“True, but some things never do.” He returned his gaze to Spade. “Does he still weep

like a little girl after sex?”

I stiffened.

“I’ll bet he still needs to be held for hours afterward.”

My fist clenched.

“It must be such a trial, belonging to him.”

That’s why he forced me to bring Spade

. He’d known reading me would be harder this

round, and so he’d had me bring along a living, breathing tell. I looked up at Spade, realizing

that he was all my secrets, laid bare before everyone in the room.

But his expression was blank as he stared down at Angelo. He didn’t move, he didn’t

even blink.

Was he unable to react because I’d cut myself off from him? Or was it because --

Nathan clapped his hands and nervously rubbed them together. “Okay! How about

some cards?”

My gaze drifted to Angelo, a cool smile touching my lips. “I’m game if you are.”

One Good Hand

He and three other players took a seat at the table, as well as a neutral dealer. “That

wall won’t help you, Ace. I’m the one who taught you how to build it, remember?”

My brow furrowed as I handed my backpack to a money changer so he could get my

extra chips. He did teach me that. Was Spade right? Was this the wrong strategy?

No, I couldn’t start doubting myself now. I knew what I was doing.

I sat at the table and locked the circle.

The first hand went my way. It was only two pair, but they were kings and queens.

Not bad.

I drew shit for my second, so I had to fold. The third went to Victor Street, a veteran

player only slightly younger than my uncle. He was big on the tournament circuit, but every

once in a while he showed up at these games to prove he could still hold his own with the

true sharks. Grinning at us, he arranged his winnings into neat little stacks.

Then the game really got started.

It was obvious that the other players were just a formality. There was only Angelo, and

there was only me.

We were evenly matched. We both played smart. We both bet big. I won a few. He

won a few.

“You’re a big dog now, aren’t you?” Angelo smiled as he called my raise. “I remember

when you were just a puppy, how your little tail wagged every time you saw me.”

It wouldn’t work. Not this time.

His tone remained casual, friendly. “Your love for me was so great that you would have

kissed the soles of my feet, had I asked.”

I drew a card, smothered those memories.

“I think you really believed me to be an angel. So pitiful, but adorable in small doses. In

the end, it was too much. Your affection was stifling.”

Rowan McBride

I pushed a small stack of chips to the center of the table. One hundred thousand

dollars.

“Oh, how you lamented when I cut you loose. I would have sworn that your wails

were heard for miles.”

I lifted my gaze, laid my full house on the table. “You’re…what? A decade older than

me? And you’re still bragging about how you broke a nineteen-year-old kid’s heart seven

years ago?”

A hush swept the room, but Angelo only smiled as he handed his cards to the dealer.

“You have so much fire within you now. All this passion, just for me?”

“You conceited son of a bitch. It’s not for you! It’s for my uncle.” I stopped short,

knowing I had said too much.

His eyes sharpened. “I didn’t think you had any family. Who is your uncle? Would I

know him?”

Too late to take it back. And trying to avoid the question would be too distracting for

me. “Rick. Rick Donovan.”

“Rick Donovan…” His voice softened as we were dealt new hands. “You’re not talking

about Red Rick?”

My hand shook as I arranged my cards, but I forced it steady. “That’s him.”

Angelo dropped three hundred grand into the pot. Victor Street, already on a short

stack, was forced to fold. “I remember him well. I suppose I can see the resemblance,

although he was much better than you.”

I called his bet, raised him another fifty as I tried not to listen.

“He did mention having a boy. I had assumed he spoke of a son.”

I discarded two cards, glanced down at my new hand.

Shit

. Aces and eights. Dead man’s hand.

One Good Hand

It wasn’t a sign. It

wasn’t

Angelo chuckled. “He cried the last time I played him. A soul-wrenching sound. Much

like the one you would make a few years later.”

I called when he raised again. It busted another player, and he had to walk away from

the table.

Angelo leaned forward, his face calm, curious. “Do you think it’s fate? My encounters

with the Donovan line?” He placed his cards on the table.

Four kings.

The aces and eights slid from my fingers to a rustling heap.

My wall cracked.

I lost the next hand.

And the next.

Angelo had done what he’d wanted. He’d tilted me. Now I was playing with anger and

frustration, taking bigger and bigger risks as I struggled against the quicksand. Soon, he’d

busted everyone else at the table, and he had six of my seven million dollars.

His graceful fingers played with his chips as we were dealt another hand. Our final

hand.

I glanced down at my cards. An ace of diamonds, an ace of hearts, a three of clubs, a

five of diamonds, and a seven of hearts. A pair and three blanks. That’s all I had.

Angelo slid one million into the pot.

If I lost this hand, then I’d fail my uncle. I’d fail myself. Luck wouldn’t be that cruel,

would she? I swept all my chips to the center of the table, left with no choice but to go all in.

I couldn’t fail.

He smiled and discarded one card.

Rowan McBride

I discarded three.

The dealer slid the new cards to me, face down. I stared at them, trying to find the

courage to pick them up.

Luck, we’ve known each other a long time. What I’ve won is nothing compared to

what I’ve lost. You

owe

me this

The clatter of plastic chips drew my attention, and I found Angelo watching me

expectantly.

“My markers are good?”

His face softened with that fake gentleness of his. “I’ve known you since you were a

teenager, Ace. Your markers are always good with me.”

“My suite?”

He shook his head. “I’m going back to L.A. in the morning. What good is your suite to

me?”

“Then what?”

His gaze drifted to a spot behind me.

I turned, saw Spade standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. Exactly the

way he had the last time he was at a poker game. “You want Spade.”

“I’ve heard legends of his kind. I wish to experience one of them personally.”

Spade looked directly into my eyes, but his expression was stoic, giving no indication of

what he might be thinking.

I turned in my chair, reached for one of my new cards with trembling fingers.

The Ace of Spades.

My breathing slowed, shallowed.

You wish you could change the world with a card

One Good Hand

I traced the picture on the front of this one.

Ace of

…

I owned him. He was mine. But --

…

Spade

-- what if I belonged to him, too?

A card couldn’t change the world, but maybe this one could change mine.

I twisted around. “Spade?”

Slowly, the expressionless mask slipped away. His face softened, and I could actually

see the life returning to him. Emotions, too. Confusion topping the list. “Yes?”

Swallowing hard, I gripped the back of the chair until my fingers turned white. “Do I?”

His green eyes grew intent, and I knew he was looking into me. I forced myself to be

open, to let him see what he needed. His eyes crinkled at the corners with warmth and

amusement.

“Whatever you want, Ace.”

My voice was barely more than a whisper. “I want it.”

He grinned. “It’s as simple as that.”

Angelo’s irritated voice broke the moment. “We have a game, Ace. Are you in or out?”

I faced him, then picked up my last two cards. A pair of deuces, which made me aces

full. Only three other hands could beat me, and the odds of him having one of them were

long. I had a good chance of turning the tide here and now, of taking him down. But that

meant betting Spade.

“I fold, and I’m out.” I held up the Ace of Spades with two fingers. “But I’m keepin’ this

card.”

His cobalt eyes lit into me. “You can’t stop. You’re not finished.”

Rowan McBride

I stood, tucked the card into my back pocket. “You’ve heard the song, Angelo. You

gotta know when to walk away.”

He slammed his fist on the table. “Red Rick would never walk.”

I stared at the poker chips toppled by his outburst. “At the time, he didn’t know he

could. And he’s spent every day since regretting the loss of someone he loved. I’m not going

to make the same mistake.”

A meaty hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. “Angel says you play,”

growled Mike. “So you --”

Spade took his wrist and pried it off my body. With one quick movement of his arm,

Mike went flying, crashing against the wall. “If you cannot touch me without my permission,

what made you think I would allow you to lay a hand on him?”

I smiled.

He glanced down at me. “You haven’t truly smiled in days. Did you know that I can

feel it? Through my entire body?”

My lips parted as I shook my head.

Another of Angelo’s toadies rushed me.

Spade’s lightning speed and feline grace landed that one in a crumpled heap next to

Mike. “They haven’t realized that I don’t have a problem killing for you.”

My eyes rounded. “I-I don’t want you to kill anyone.”

He leaned down, grinning as he touched his lips to my forehead. “You’re too kind, but I

will obey.”

Angelo regained his calm and stood up. “Ace, if you walk away now, you’ll no longer

be number one. We can settle this with one cut. High card wins all.”

I used to think he was so cool, so suave. When I was nineteen, I believed his name was

sacred. I wanted nothing more than to mimic him, to learn from him, to love him. But now I

knew that he was no angel.

One Good Hand

“I don’t want to be you,” I said softly. “I wasted so many years trying, and that’s why

people don’t see me.”

“Trying to be me is what made you strong.” He came closer, and I stepped back,

bumping into Spade’s big body. “It’s what made you a winner.”

“We’ll see, but not tonight.”

He lowered his head. “I know you, Ace. Whether it’s love or hate, your blood simmers

for me.”

Spade reached out, grabbed a fistful of Angelo’s immaculately ironed shirt, and yanked

him into the air. “You know nothing.”

He walked forward, and I ducked out of his way.

“Ace is generous, and he’s pure, and he loves to play. You tried to taint that, to take

away his strength, because you know he’s better than you.” He slammed Angelo against a

wall. “He gifted you with his heart, and you sullied it with your greed.”

I ran up to them, and Spade grinned as he leaned close to Angelo. “He’s concerned for

your safety now, despite all you’ve done to him. But there’s a small part of him that’s

enjoying the sight of you subjugated this way.”

A few snickers went up in the room. No doubt from the players he’d busted.

The glint of silver whipped through the air, and before I could cry out, he had slashed

Spade across the cheek.

Spade didn’t flinch, and his eyes never left Angelo’s as the blood trickled down his skin

a moment, then flowed back into the wound as the cut sealed itself. There was no trace of a

scar, nothing to mar his perfection. With swift, catlike grace, he snatched the knife away and

embedded the blade into the wall beside Angelo’s head. “I will never be my master’s

weakness.”

Angelo struggled against him, kicked at his body. “You understand what you have

gotten into bed with now, Ace?”

Rowan McBride

I stared at my Senai, at his smooth cheek. “Not really. But he’ll explain it to me,

because I want it.”

Spade turned his head, his expression considering.

“He’s not even

human

,” hissed Angelo.

That had mattered to me so much just a few days ago. I found myself wondering why.

“When you wrecked me, not a single day went by when I didn’t think about you. But then I

met Spade, and you never crossed my mind. Not once. Not until you came back to try and

take my city.” I took a step closer. “We’ll play again, but not until I’m ready. And I’m going

to sleep easy from now on.”

Spade grinned his approval. “What do you want?”

I took a deep, cleansing breath. “I want to go home.”

He started to let Angelo down, and I held up my hands.

“Wait on that, okay?”

He raised his eyebrows, but continued to hold Angelo pinned against the wall with one

hand.

I ran to the table and flipped over Angelo’s cards. “Dammit! He only had a straight!” I

laughed as I looked over my shoulder. “You and I will definitely be playing again.”

Spade chuckled before dropping Angelo so suddenly that he tumbled and sprawled

onto the floor. “Is it time to leave?”

I thrust my hands into my pockets and started to make my way out. “Yeah.”

Nathan jogged up to me and laid a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll call you?”

I smiled, nodded.

“Cool, man. Great game.”

Spade and I left the apartment and walked out of the high-rise.

“You forgot your bag.”

One Good Hand

“Doesn’t matter. There’s nothing in it.”

He was quiet as he walked beside me.

I didn’t want him to be quiet. “So, how many other superpowers do you have?”

The chuckle that rumbled through him was perfect. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. I saw how you healed when Angelo cut you. I already know

you can read my mind. What else?”

Without breaking his stride, he threaded his fingers through my hair. “Anything.”

“Anything?”

“As Senai, I’m quite a bit stronger than a human being. I have accelerated speed, as well

as enhanced healing.” He turned his head, stared down at me. “But for you, Ace, I’ll do

anything.”

It felt so natural to believe him. To trust him. “Spade, I’m sorry about the things I said

before. And about saying I’d bet you.”

“Why didn’t you bet me? You had a full house.”

“Bet big, win big, lose big. My uncle’s been saying that for years, but I never quite got

it. I thought he meant that I should always be prepared to lose everything. That I should

never get attached. Then Angelo wanted me to put you up, and I drew that card…” My voice

trailed as I relived the moment.

“Go on,” he said gently.

My breathing grew unsteady. “You should never bet anything -- or anyone -- that

you’re not willing to lose. That’s what he was telling me. And I knew that no matter the

cards I held, if there was the slightest chance his hand was better, then I’d play it safe.

Because I wasn’t willing to lose you.”

“And why is that?”

I frowned and scuffed my shoe against the sidewalk. “Ah, come on, Spade.”

Rowan McBride

“Tell me. Please.”

It had been so clear at the poker table, but now I struggled to put together the words.

“You may have been made to obey your master, but you don’t always obey me. You say

things I don’t expect. And you tease me; I never liked that before you. It makes me think that

you’re real, that you have a mind of your own.”

The teasing tone I had just admitted to liking surfaced. “How do you know I don’t

behave this way because it’s what you want?”

“See, it’s that kind of shit that almost had me betting you just now.”

Spade laughed softly. “You said something in there. About love.”

I stared at my feet as we walked. That feeling was too new, and so was my trust.

“I should tell you something.”

I paused, glanced up. “Another secret?”

He nodded. “About the night we met.”

“What is it?”

“My eyes were blue.”

Shrugging, I leaned against a wall. “So? You can change how you look.”

“I can’t change my appearance. Only my master has that control, and you were not yet

my master.”

It was significant, what he was telling me. But I didn’t know enough about him to

catch on. “What does that mean?”

He stood before me, a giant of a man who called me master. “When Dallas told me he

was going up against the top card shark in the world, I thought it would be like any other

game. And then I saw you. I hadn’t expected you to be so young. You controlled the game

from the start, but you had a simple joy in you as well. One that Dallas couldn’t see. No one

could see it. Except me.”

One Good Hand

Growing cautious, I crossed my arms over my chest. “You saw me?”

“Yes,” he said gently. “I saw how you held yourself back. I saw how it drained you.

And yet you continued to play. Not for the money, but for the game.”

I rubbed at my face. “What does this have to do with your eyes?”

“I wanted you to be my master. I wanted to belong to you. I wanted it so much that my

eyes changed from Dallas’s favorite color to yours.”

“But you said that wasn’t possible.”

Spade leaned forward, braced his hands on each side of me against the wall. “Many

things have happened to me that aren’t possible. All since I met you. Jealousy, disobedience.

When you cast me out of your bed, I felt pain. The greatest imaginable.”

I tried to look away. “I’m sorry.”

His long, powerful fingers cupped my jaw and drew my gaze upward. “I’m not telling

you these things because I’m upset. I’m telling you because another impossible thing has

happened.”

“Wh-what?”

“Love. I feel this emotion. For you.”

I stopped breathing.

He caressed my cheek with his thumb. “I’m glad you didn’t make good on your threat

to give me away, Ace.”

His touch let me exhale, and I wrapped my arms around him as tightly as I could. “I

love you,” I said, my words muffled against his hard torso.

Chuckling, he stroked my hair. “I know. That’s how I was able to recognize the

answering emotion in me.”

Some alien, defective servant had slipped past my walls and right into me. “What the

hell am I going to do with you, Spade?”

Rowan McBride

“Whatever you want.”

I pulled back, looked over his body before meeting his gaze again. “Ever play strip

poker?”

His leaf green eyes sparkled with mischief as he touched his lips to mine. I opened

myself up, let him in. He groaned into me as he tasted, then drank, then accepted everything

I had to offer.

Ace of Spade’s.

A stroke of luck brought him into my life. It had healed me, given me happiness,

granted me peace. All the things he’d promised me.

One good hand had set me free.

Rowan McBride

Born an Air Force dependent, Rowan McBride traveled the world and totally missed

the 80’s as most Americans know it. In exchange, he’s gotten to walk in clogs, break an arm

at Mt. Fuji, and say prayers at a Korean Buddhist temple. So far it seems like a fair trade.

Although he graduated from high school in Hawaii, he didn’t learn to hula and make leis

until going to college in Iowa. After leaving the Midwest, he moved to Washington, DC and

very nearly got himself a Juris Doctor degree. Now he’s chilling out in Texas, diabolically

planning road trips that could span years.

People tell him his life is random, and that’s probably true. Rowan comforts himself

with the working theory that a random life makes for good stories. When that doesn’t work,

there’s Pocky. Lots and lots of Pocky.

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