Dangerous Pursuit (The Pursuit #3)

6 Dangerous

DANGEROUS

Mia

C ommuting to the poker game tonight gives me plenty of time to reflect on my conversation with Walker this afternoon. Apparently, describing last night’s kiss as “nice” wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t terrible, but it certainly wasn’t a mind-blowing “take me back to your place” kind of kiss. Although, I suppose it doesn’t matter since he ghosted me. He told me to let him know I made it home safely and then never responded. Walker told me to give it another day before losing hope, but we’ll see.

I’m sure we’ll talk more about it since I’m staying at his place tonight. I told my mom we were going out and then crashing there. Walker was surprised to hear I was taking up poker again, making withholding the truth difficult. But I can’t risk these guys finding out I told someone, so the less he knows, the better.

I’m starting to get nervous as the bus approaches my stop. Then again, I’m always a little anxious before an in-person tournament. Most players don’t take me seriously. Not only am I female, the minority at these things, but I’m always the youngest. Condescending remarks are common until I prove myself. I’ve gotten good at pulling off indifference, but inside, I’m not as calm as it seems. I started branching out into live games just over a year ago, and it’s gotten better since those early days, but still nerve-racking.

Stepping off, I look at my phone to see where I’m going. The address arrived an hour ago, with instructions to send my results after. It came with barely enough time to get here, and had it been any later, I would have had to Uber. As it is, I’ll arrive right on time without a minute to spare. You never want to be late, or you’ll start with fewer chips, which is fair but not a great way to begin.

I dress more maturely at live tournaments, but with a game in this neighborhood, I stepped it up, wearing black slacks and a sexy low-cut shirt that doubles as a distraction tactic. We ladies should use what God gave us for something other than sex. Men have strength, and we have beauty, which is helpful in certain circumstances.

The large house in front of me has a circular driveway lined with expensive cars along the edge. No other details were given besides the time, address, and buy-in, but this looks like a big game. I hope there are no issues, and I’m on a list because you don’t just show up to these things; they’re by invitation only. Stopping before an enormous wooden front door, I take a deep breath and knock.

It swings open to reveal a staff member who asks my name while looking down at his clipboard. My heart is pounding as he skims the list, but he finds it quickly before standing aside and motioning for me to enter. Once inside the foyer, he takes my coat and leads me to a table to take care of the buy-in. This is the most money I’ve ever paid for a game, and I’m shaking a little as I hand it over. It’s a month’s worth of wages, but much more than that is at stake.

Once he’s finished securing it, he holds out a playing card. “Here you are, dear. Find the seat with the matching card, although that won’t be hard to do with everyone else here. I’ll show you the way.” I look down to see the Queen of Hearts. Is it fate that it’s my lucky card? I hope so, because here goes nothing.

He motions me to follow before leading me down a set of stairs, where the sounds of conversation can be heard below. The voices get louder as we descend, and after reaching the bottom, he steps aside for me to pass. All eyes immediately turn in my direction. Three large oval tables with ten chairs at each tells me twenty-nine other people are already here. As I scan the room, my eyes land on a familiar face, and I blanch.

Holy shit, what is Jackson doing here?

Jackson

“What the hell?” I realize I’ve said that out loud as all eyes target the stairway.

“What’s up, man?” Eli asks from the table over, hearing my expletive. We didn’t end up at the same one tonight, which is good and bad. While we don’t get to fuck with each other all night, it does prevent us from potentially taking a friend out of the game.

“That’s Mia,” I say in his direction, quieter this time.

He looks at me with shock. “From the office?”

I nod, watching him mouth the word ‘fuck’, which is my thought exactly. This is no place for her. What the hell is she doing here?

“Do you know her?” Cole asks from across the table. I barely know the guy and don’t feel like answering but decide to satisfy his curiosity in hopes of ending the conversation.

“She works for me. I didn’t know she played poker.” Her presence takes me off guard, and my answer comes out harsher than intended.

“Well, this should be interesting. She looks about twelve. Are you violating any child labor laws?” The table chuckles at his jab, and I ball my fists. I see Mia’s head turn toward our table and know she heard his comment.

“Keep talking shit, and we’ll see what laws I can break. Why don’t you worry about whether she’ll kick your ass in poker and not how old she is.” This shuts him up, and he doesn’t respond. The subtle lift at the corner of Mia’s mouth tells me she heard my response.

My eyes follow as she makes her way to the only empty seat, which happens to be at Eli’s table. Great. He better keep his mouth shut. He knows I’m attracted to her, but that’s all. I haven’t told him about my recent stalking tendencies or that I may have discovered that I’m interested in more than just her body.

Damn, the surprises keep coming. How did she get invited to this, anyway? It’s a big money pot, and I know she doesn’t have a lot to spare. She made that clear early on when she was insulted by the comments about her clothes. That was when I first showed my cards, so to speak, and alluded to my attraction.

Speaking of which, what the fuck is she wearing? I swear she keeps throwing curveballs. Her black slacks are fine, but waist up, I want to walk over and cover her with my jacket. She’s wearing a mesh blouse with a sexy bra underneath that manages to push her cleavage up over the low-cut neckline more provocatively than I’ve seen before. Is this her typical style or a ploy to keep the attention on her chest instead of her cards? She dressed more conservatively for her date, so I assume the latter.

“Ah, the Queen of Hearts has arrived,” Eli says as she reaches her seat.

“I have. I’m Mia,” she responds, sitting and organizing her chips. It’s apparent that she’s familiar with the motions, digging right in with no hesitation.

“Very nice to meet you, Mia. I’m Eli. Good luck tonight.” His back is to me, but I have a clear view of Mia and her steely demeanor, which she put in place the minute she sat down.

“Thanks. You too,” is the only thing she gives in return.

My eyes rarely stray from their table as the game gets underway. It’s fascinating to watch. This isn’t her first rodeo with how comfortable and capable she is. And it’s sexy as hell, prompting an uncomfortable situation under the table.

The game progresses as blinds are raised and people are starting to bust. Thank fuck I’ve been blessed with good cards because I’m too mesmerized by Mia to focus on playing. Between listening to the conversation and watching their progression, I’ve discovered that Mia’s a fucking shark. And suddenly, I’m desperate to know more about the girl who has consumed my thoughts for weeks, leaving no room for anyone else.

I want to learn everything there is—but first and foremost, why the fuck she’s here, subjecting herself to so many scumbags and putting herself in danger.

When the tenth guy busts, we’re given a ten-minute break before consolidating to two tables.

Time to get some answers.

I’m the first out of my chair, reaching a still-seated Mia to lean down and whisper from behind. “Follow me.” I catch Eli in the background, raising his eyebrows in question. Ignoring him, I turn around and hope to God she follows. I’d hate to make a scene, but I will if necessary. Luckily, it’s not, since the sound of her footsteps indicates she’s behind me.

On the main level, a hallway leads to a library, which I discovered upon arrival while using the restroom. I go in that direction and step inside, shutting the door after she enters. “Want to explain what the fuck you’re doing here, spending an entire month’s salary on a game of poker? How did you even get an invite?” Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best way to start, but I’m so pent-up that it was inevitable.

“I have just as much right to be here as you do. You’re not my dad, nor do I owe you an explanation.” She takes a step closer with her last sentence, displaying strength.

I move forward, putting myself mere inches from her. She leans back but doesn’t retreat. “Maybe what you need is a daddy to answer to. Seriously, Mia, what the fuck are you thinking? Some of these men are dangerous. This is no place for someone like you. And in case you forgot, you are not an adult.”

“You don’t know anything about me or what kind of person I am. And stop with the adult comments. I’m eighteen in nearly two weeks. Just drop the age thing already. You do not get to tell me what to do. You may be my boss, but we are not at work. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the most dangerous one here.” She leans forward in anger.

I close the gap by another inch, and this time, she steps back. I do it again and again until her back hits the wall, then cage her in with my hands on either side of her and look down menacingly.

“You want me to overlook your age? Are you sure about that, little girl ? Would you like to see how dangerous I am?” My dick is rock-hard in my pants, busting at the seams and dying for friction.

“I… I want you to stop thinking of me as a child, that’s all.” The last words are practically a whisper as she licks her lips, begging to be kissed.

I press my body into hers. “Does it feel like I think of you as a child… or does it feel like I wish more than anything you weren’t? The fact of the matter is this: You. Are. Off. Limits. No matter how I see you.” I press harder into her, and she lets out the tiniest moan. Fuuuck, I’m torturing myself.

I push off the wall and shake my head. “Look, you don’t belong here. Why are you putting two thousand dollars on the line in the first place?” That’s the real reason I pulled her away—to question her, not to rub my dick on her. Although, now that I have, it’s all I want to do.

“I’m here because I enjoy playing, which I’m assuming is the same reason you’re here. Speaking of, we need to get back.” She starts toward the door.

“Don’t think I’m letting this go,” I warn.

“Ugh, just… whatever.” She throws her hands up and walks out with me trailing behind like the puppy dog I am.

Mia

Now that’s the feeling I wanted from my kiss last night. Yet here I am getting it from my boss—again. Dammit, why does my body keep responding to him like this? The minute he caged me in, my breath became erratic, and I couldn’t focus. I wanted him to kiss me so badly; it was all I could think about. Then, when he pressed into me… holy hell, all coherent thought was lost. The feel of his firmness was such a turn-on that a moan came out. How embarrassing.

He’s such an ass, treating me like a child. Well… not entirely. But he’s acting like I can’t take care of myself, which is infuriating when I’ve been doing it for longer than most. I mean, yes, I live at home with my mom, but we take care of each other. We’re a team. I’m not the helpless little girl he thinks I am. I have every right to be here, and I’ll prove it by playing the best damn game ever.

We choose cards for our seats after walking in and end up at the same fricking table. Just great. Oh well, I need to stop letting him get to me. While I’m slightly distracted by the memory of his body pressed against mine, as soon as my ass hits the chair, my poker face comes on.

“Did you enjoy the break?” The question comes from Eli, whom I met earlier, and is directed toward Jackson, so they must know each other.

Jackson looks at him and scowls.

“How about you, Mia? This guy didn’t harass you too much, I hope,” Eli addresses me, nodding in Jackson’s direction.

“Eli,” Jackson says, sounding like a threat.

“Relax, I’m just trying to rile you up. It’s good for my game, and you’re making it way too easy, man.”

The others at the table chuckle, but Jackson just mutters something that sounds a lot like “motherfucker.”

“So, Mia, do you come to these games often?” Eli asks nonchalantly while someone else is taking time to consider their bet.

“Every now and then. I took a break for a while with my new job, but I figure I can still pick up a game here and there in the evenings. How about you?” I ask in return, noticing how Jackson’s jaw ticks as he follows our conversation.

“A couple times a month for fun.” Eli shrugs. “How do you like working for this guy? You had some big shoes to fill with Cindy. I’m sure it hasn’t been easy.”

They must be good friends then.

“Cindy planned for an easy transition that I’d say has gone well. Wouldn’t you agree, Jackson?”

He nods.

“As far as working for him goes…” Do I screw with Jackson or give a real answer? I’m not sure if there’s anyone who Jackson wouldn’t want to see his employee give him shit, so I think I’ll play it safe and go with the truth. “He runs the company incredibly well, which makes my job easy. He’s so organized that sometimes I wonder if he actually needs me, but I’m glad he thinks so because I’m learning a lot.”

Jackson’s gaze is unreadable but intense, and the ability to look away escapes me.

“Well, whether he needs you or not, it looks like he’s lucky to have you,” Eli says finally, breaking the moment.

“I am lucky to have her,” Jackson says, surprising me before focusing back on the game.

Our conversation ceases after that, and Eli busts a few hands later. He stands from the table, says his goodbyes, and comes around to shake my hand. “Mia, it was a pleasure to meet you. I hope we see each other again.” Then he looks at a scowling Jackson and chuckles. “I’m headed to the club. Join me if you end up going out soon.”

“You won’t be seeing me even if I do.”

“Ah… well, then, good luck. I’ll look forward to catching up tomorrow,” Eli says cryptically.

“Don’t,” Jackson states angrily, making Eli laugh harder as he walks away.

“I take it you two are good friends?” I ask Jackson casually as the cards are dealt for the next hand.

“We’re friends. I’m questioning the ‘good’ part.”

“I’m just surprised you have any,” I say, jumping right back into our enmity and earning a few chuckles and curious glances from the other players.

“I’m surprised you can talk and play cards simultaneously. That’s impressive for someone your age,” he says with a straight face. Jerk.

“You’d be amazed what someone my age is capable of.”

We stay silent for the rest of this round and then break for ten minutes before consolidating to one table. This time, I don’t leave the main room, preventing another encounter alone with Jackson. Jumping between animosity, lust, and niceness is throwing me off-kilter, and there’s no telling what will come next. So, instead, I choose to stand back and study the remaining nine opponents.

My cards have been decent, though nothing to write home about like the hands Jackson’s lucked out with. You don’t need to be a great player with the cards he’s getting tonight. I, on the other hand, have worked hard for my wins. I’ve had no-brainer hands a few times, which allowed me to control the table, but otherwise, it’s been more about bluffing and strategy. Jackson can spout off about my age all he wants, but it certainly helps at live games since no one expects what’s coming.

By this time in the game, though, people start to think they have everyone figured out, which is right when I switch it up, going in for the kill. Two guys are trying to bully the table, but we’ll see how they do when the role’s reversed. My chip count is high enough to make bold moves and press harder, and that’s what I plan to do. If it doesn’t work, I have other things up my sleeve to keep them guessing.

Poker is not just the cards dealt, but strategy—which I learned from my dad. You can memorize all the probabilities for the different hands and still not know how to win. It certainly helps to understand the odds of your hand, but it’s not the most crucial factor. Other players’ tells, betting habits, and tactics are what it comes down to. And then, of course, there’s the name of the game. If you’re not willing to gamble, then you won’t win in the end.

Tonight, the top five players will walk away with money. For me, fifth place isn’t an option, as it’s only double the buy-in, and after playing for six or more hours, it’s not worth it. A third- or fourth-place finish means I’ll be indebted for a lot longer than I want, so I need to finish in first or second place if I want my freedom any time soon.

Three of us with larger chip stacks and four more stragglers aren’t out of the game yet. This is about time when the smaller guys start going all-in when they see a top pair in their hand. They’re tired, already thinking they’re done for, and willing to make bold moves. Stupid, in my opinion, but when you’re already down, it doesn’t matter and sometimes pays off. To these guys, two thousand dollars is nothing; to me, it’s everything.

We get down to four players, and the chips are in my favor. It’s a good sign, but as the saying goes, the game isn’t over until it’s over. Never assume the win. Jackson was the last to bet on this hand, and it’s my turn to call. I’m not sure what the protocol is for taking your boss out. It’s not like he won’t walk away a winner, just a few grand less than the next spot.

“What’s it going to be, Mia? You’ve seen my cards all night, right? Call me if you think I’m bluffing.”

“Who says I think you’re bluffing? Maybe I’m just wondering if my hand is better than yours.” Oh my God… I can’t say anything without it sounding like an innuendo—this sexual tension is killing me.

“I’d be happy to find out, but we should finish the game first.” This earns a few snickers. “Pay to play, little girl.”

Okay, that’s it. Taking the boss out is no longer a concern. I already knew I had him beat, but I wasn’t last on the button, so my contemplation was not on his hand at all but on how to maximize my take from the other players.

“Well, in that case, by all means. And you know what? I’m all-in. How about you? Are you willing to go all-in?” I ask the last question with a slow drawl, deliberately implying more to the statement than the game at hand. I know I’m flirting with disaster when his eyes darken. It’s the same look he had a couple of hours ago when pressed against me.

The entire table folds, not wanting to get involved in whatever this is between me and Jackson, who’s staring me down. I could have been a little more strategic, keeping one or two guys in, taking a larger pot, but damn, he pushes my buttons. He’ll figure out soon that this little girl doesn’t back down.

He throws his cards on the table, folding his hand. “I’ll go all-in when I’m confident there’s no risk. Until then, I think I’ll keep playing.”

“That’s the thing, Jackson, the risk never goes away. You’re just prolonging the inevitable.”

What have I gotten myself into?

Jackson

She’s probably right. I like this bolder side of Mia—it’s sexy as fuck. This girl is a force to be reckoned with, not the complacent one from the office.

I go all-in not much later and lose out to another player. There’s a part of me that wishes I’d just gone against her when I knew I’d lose, adding to her stack, but honestly, she doesn’t need the charity; she’s holding her own just fine. It’s down to her and just two others.

My dick has been strained all night, hard as a rock and dying to break free. The incident upstairs has been on constant replay, and if it weren’t for the great cards I’ve been dealt tonight, I’d have been out a long time ago from being distracted. With only three players left, I’m sticking around. There’s no way I’m letting her leave alone when I still don’t know the story behind the marks on her body. Until I do, I’ll be keeping an eye on her. I end up hanging around the table, watching as if I’m interested in the game when all I’m truly interested in is the girl whom my eyes rarely stray from.

She’s an amazing player. How she’s this talented at such a young age leads to more questions. If she’s this good, why the hell has she put up with me for so long instead of doing this for income? Her finish tonight isn’t a fluke. She earned it and could be a professional player if she pursued it, although that could be dangerous for someone like her.

Although I love the game, I’m not serious about it. It’s a hobby, not an income source, and certainly not an addiction. Socializing is why I do it more than anything, and it breaks the monotony of going to the club and hooking up.

The evening proceeds with normal trash talk, however no insults are directed toward Mia. I’m sure everyone caught on to some type of connection between us and wouldn’t have risked an offensive remark while I was here. I’m a big guy. After playing football all through college, the discipline to care for my body has stuck, and I lift daily to keep my physique in top shape. I could take anyone in this room and barely break a sweat.

Mia is quiet while she plays, only speaking when she places her bet or calls. The most she’s said all night was when we bantered with each other. Other than that, she’s been impossible to rile up, remaining calm throughout. It’s unnerving, and I’ve noticed it gets under the skin of the other players when they can’t get a reaction from her.

The third player finally goes out, leaving only Mia and Bill. “Mia, you’re quite the player. Where did you learn?” he asks during the next shuffle.

“Here and there. Online. You know.” It’s a short answer and a complete cop-out. She’s obviously hiding something.

“Well, you must be a natural, then, because it took me years to master the art of poker.” He looks at her until she lifts her eyes to meet his. “So, Mia, we’ve been playing for hours, and we’re equally stacked. What do you say we split the pot and call it a night? I’d like to get home to the missus, but I’ll play until the end if that’s what you want.”

She’s quiet as she contemplates for a few minutes before answering. “Yeah, we can do that. Who knows how long we’d be here if we didn’t, and I’m getting tired anyway. Thanks for offering.”

“The thanks are all mine. You’re a challenging opponent. It’s been a real pleasure. Do you need help getting home?”

“That won’t be necessary, Bill. I’ve got her. Nice of you to ask, though,” I interject. I can tell she’s dying to argue, but she is smart enough to wait until we don’t have an audience.

“Well, in that case, you enjoy the rest of your weekend. Jackson, it was good to see you.” He walks upstairs, leaving the two of us alone.

I knew it wouldn’t take her long. “I don’t need help getting home. Can you believe I made it here like a big girl? And now I’ll get home like one—by myself.” Sarcasm is dripping from her voice. She drives me fucking crazy.

“It wasn’t dark then or two in the morning. There’s no way I’m letting you go alone.” I stand inches away, staring down at her, looking formidable with my arms crossed, giving my best “don’t fuck with me” vibe.

“Jackson, you are not the boss outside of work. I can take care of myself.” Same argument I’ve heard before, and quite unimpressive at this point.

“Come on, get your winnings, and we’ll discuss it upstairs.”

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes as she starts toward the stairs.

Following, I get an eye-level view of her juicy rear end. I wish we had further to go, but unfortunately, we arrive on the main level too soon. Once the money is tucked into her pocket, we head for the exit.

Stepping outside, I cut her off at the first sound of her voice. “Cut the crap, Mia. I’m here, I have a car, and I’m not letting you out of my sight. You can go the hard way, over my shoulder, or the easy way and walk. I have a preference, and it’s not what you think.” I pause, letting that sink in. “So, what’s it going to be?”

She stares at me with a clenched jaw before walking toward the driveway. Good girl , although not what I was hoping for.

“Put the address here.” I point to the touch screen. She enters it, and it’s not what I would expect, knowing what little I do about her. Her mom cleans for my parents, and her dad’s out of the picture. Could she live in that part of town?

“Is that your address?” I ask casually, not wanting to offend her with the reason behind the question.

“No, it’s Walker’s house. I’m staying there tonight.” She’s looking out the window, avoiding my gaze.

“I see. Are you two more than friends?” I ask with a clenched jaw, not sure I want the answer. Is there a chance he was the one who did that to her? Maybe I need to pay this fucker a visit.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.” She’s right, but I don’t give a shit.

“Is he the one who marked you up like that? Say the word, Mia, and I’ll kick his ass.”

“No! He would never hurt me. He’d be just as mad as you if he knew. Shit.” She shuts her mouth, growls, and shakes her head, frustrated at giving that away.

If he doesn’t know about the abuse she received, then she’s hiding it from everyone. Why?

“Listen, I know you don’t trust or particularly like me. I’ve given you no reason to, but seriously, I can help you, Mia. Whatever it is, I can take care of it if you just tell me what happened.” God, I’m practically begging her at this point. I sound pathetic.

“I told you. It’s nothing I wasn’t looking for.”

“Bullshit!” I bang the steering wheel, making her flinch. “There’s no fucking way that’s true. Why are you lying? If someone took advantage of you, it’s not your fault. Let someone help you. Let me help you,” I plead.

She seems to soften at my last statement. “Jackson, I appreciate your concern, but I don’t have a different answer. I’m not who you think I am. Just let it go and forget it. I don’t want to keep arguing with you about it, okay?”

“I’ll drop it for now, but I won’t stop until I have the truth, Mia. Whether I get it from you or by other means is your decision.”

She raises her brows. “What is that supposed to mean? What other means?”

“I have my resources. Don’t think I’ll just let this go, not when I saw the evidence that you’ve been hurt with my own eyes.” I sigh. “Look, I know your dad is out of the picture. You’re not confiding in this Walker guy either, so that leaves your mom, who I’m assuming you’re also not coming clean to.” Her lack of response is all the confirmation I need.

We’re pulling up to the address she punched in my GPS. The car rolls to a stop at the curb, and I put it in Park before facing her. I grab her chin and turn her face to look at me. “You need someone on your side, and whether you want it or not, I’m making that person me. You’ll have to accept it sooner or later.” I rub my thumb along her jaw and then across her bottom lip before reluctantly bringing my hand down and sitting back. I was too close to pulling her in and devouring those lips.

She sighs and shakes her head in denial. “Thanks for the ride, Jackson. I’ll see you Monday.” She exits the car, and I watch as she stops, typing something on her phone before going in.

I pull away with more questions than answers.