Hustler Read Online Free

from his chair, sending it flying backwards. “This is fuckin’ bullshit! You stacked the deck! You just cost me three-hundred grand, you dumb cunt!”
    To my surprise, the furious man is pointing his pudgy finger right at Davies who, shockingly enough, looks like the perfect picture of calm, cool, and collected. “I can assure you, sir. I didn’t do anything to the deck. You just played with a bad hand.”
    “You callin’ me a liar, you stupid bitch? I know how the fuck to play poker. I’ve been playin’ for years! I didn’t have a bad hand!”
    The man’s chest puffs out like he is ready to pounce and I feel my feet moving in his direction before my brain can catch up. No one else has moved a muscle. If the other men sitting around the table aren’t going to intervene, I sure as hell will. No way am I letting that piece of shit talk to my friend like that.
    But before I can even move a foot, a large hand wraps around my upper arm, stopping me in place.
    “Wouldn’t do that if I were you, gorgeous,” Nick whispers in my ear. “Just give it a second.”
    “Fuck that,” I hiss angrily, tugging at my arm to get free. “If none of you are going to stop him, I will.”
    “Relax,” he grinds between clenched teeth. “Nothing’s going to happen to her, I swear. This is all par for the course.”
    “This is bullshit, is what it is,” I seethe in response.
    Davies actually looks like she’s bored as she replies, “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to take your seat or you’ll be removed from the room.”
    “By who,” the guy laughs hatefully. “ You ?”
    At that moment, his paid company unwisely decides to enter the fray, wrapping herself around his arm. “Baby, why don’t you just calm down, huh?”
    To my—and everyone else’s in the room—surprise, he rears back and shouts at the woman, “When I want your opinion, I’ll fuckin’ give it to you!”
    My chest compresses in a sharp gasp just as the room to the suite bursts open and two men clad in black suits charge the cowboy. One plants his fist in his gut, causing the prick to crumple over in pain before dragging him out as the other man walks the woman out of the room behind her sugar daddy.
    And just like that, in a matter of seconds, they’re gone. “Okay, gentlemen. Next game is starting, ante up,” Davies speaks as if nothing’s happened, and the men all start tossing their chips to the center.
    “See, I told you everything would work out,” Nick tells me. The tension is gone from his voice and his light, jovial demeanor has returned, but I’m still shaken by the whole situation. And what’s worse, I’m pissed off that Davies just had to stand there and take the cowboy’s shit.
    My earlier laid back mood is gone. I’m upset for Davies, I’m upset that I have to resort to refilling tumblers as a living, and I’m irritated at the male race for thinking they can take what they want, when they want it.
    That’s why, a half hour later, when Ramos’s hand finds its way up the back of my skirt as I replace his empty Jack and Coke, it takes everything I have not to lose it. Gritting my teeth against the onslaught of curse words that desperately want to escape, I speak past a plastered on grin. “Sir, please remove your hand,” I hiss at him under my breath, knowing full well he can see right through my polite words.
    A smug, chilling smirk spreads across his face. He no longer looks handsome, now he just looks like the slimy bastard Davies warned me about.
    “Feisty,” he murmurs. “I like it.”
    “Please don’t make me ask you again,” I say in the most professional voice I can while still getting my warning across. But for added measure—and because I can’t leave well enough alone—I add, “You won’t like what happens if I have to repeat myself.”
    He does as I demand just as Davies says my name in a quiet warning. When I look her way she offers me a discreet shake of her head. I can read the look on her face