53
They’d agreed to start low, so John tossed a couple of dollar chips against Tim’s pair and the President’s possibly low three of a kind.
Mark matched the play, unreadable as always to John. The President folded.
John watched Connie carefully.
She looked at him from across the table. Looked at him like a stranger, as if there wasn’t something between them. But there was. He knew it. Something that ran deep—so far down neither of them could see it, but there it lay nonetheless.
And she’d blown off what they’d shared. We only fly together. What the hell was she tripping on?
Well, screw her. Tonight she was gonna pay for it. She was going down.
She matched his two and raised one more. Tim folded.
John knew she was bluffing. Knew it for a fact. He saw the play, would have raised her—
