A Mafia Hand: Juno: A Billionaire Romantic Suspense Novel (High Stakes Book 1)

A Mafia Hand: JUNO High Stakes Series Book One Shilo West Crave Publishing Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Before You Go… About the Author What Do You Crave? Freebie Friday Book Shark A MAFIA HAND: Juno Copyright © 2022 by Shilo West. All rights reserved. First Print Edition: December 2022 Crave Publishing Kailua, HI 96734 www.cravepublishing.net Formatting: Crave Publishing ISBN-13: 978-1-64034-646-8 No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental. One She’s been dealt hundreds of hands in the Rodeo Room of the Wagon Wheel Casino, but tonight, when it counted the most, those sweet poker-playing cowboy ghosts kept sending her face cards, high threes and fours, straights and flushes. If she had been any one of her opponents around the tournament table, she would have suspected some kind of cheating. But these boys had resigned themselves to getting a good thrashing from a beautiful woman. Tonight, she had prayed her lucky red pumps had just enough traction left, both in their magic and in their heels, to take her through one last big jackpot. Juno Cooper had never needed a win this badly before, not even in her early days on the circuit. The first round of bets in, the dealer turned four cards. The burn card went face down on the table, then dealt the flop. One of the three face-up cards on the board put Juno close to a straight flush. She had the seven and nine of spades; the eight lay on the table between a king and an ace. As long as the next two cards came up either the five or ten of spades, she’d have a killer hand, almost unbeatable. It was her turn to bet, and she kept cool, calling. The player to her left folded, but the last player raised, and by enough to cause a little head shaking around the table. Fine, she thought, you can just hand me your wallet. She tried not to look at him again. Situated at about ten o’clock from her, he’d been a thorn in her side all night. He was pretty enough to look at, but Juno wasn’t in the mood for nonsense, and this guy couldn’t help himself. She was having to spend way too much of her focus just keeping her thoughts from wandering back to the dimple in his chin. Despite her efforts, the flush was showing in more than the cards she held; she could feel the crimson rising up her neck as the shaggy boy across the table shifted slowly in his club chair. His hips moved slightly to music coming from the casino floor, but his eyes stayed on Juno. She wasn’t looking at him, but after years in casinos, country clubs, dive bars, and back room card games up and down the East Coast before making her way here to Vegas, Juno had learned a thing or two, or four or five, about how to keep track of all the eyes at a card table. “Don’t ever meet their eyes.” She could hear her mother’s voice clearly right now, coaching her while she practiced no-look Faro shuffles in front of a mirror when she was no more than nine or ten. “Don’t look at the cards. And, whatever you do, don’t look at the other players.” Juno’s hazel eyes, sharp as desert mica, were a weapon she used sometimes, a way to distract any man she opposed. But tonight, she hid them behind cheap Jackie O knockoffs, big black ovals covering most of her face. A trick she’d use when she needed to be left in her private thoughts. And this tournament had no room for distractions. This tournament was her prison break. Her ticket out of a life she never meant to have. The dealer showed the turn, setting it alongside the other cards. Juno’s heart jumped at first—a black ten, but clubs. No matter. She wasn’t superstitious. There was one more card to go. But first, the round of bets. The big blind called, but the small blind, the second player from the dealer, raised the 140k bet to 200k. He’d been struggling all night; Juno would have felt sorry to see him slide his chips forward with so much confidence if her heart hadn’t shrunken into a raisin. And whatever winner he thought he had would not be enough. He’s got kings, she thought. A pair of kings. He’s hoping the river card is another one. But it won’t be. It’s a ten of spades, Juno thought, because it’s my card. Nobody knows why the last round in Texas Hold ’Em is called the “river.” Juno’s mother told her it came from the riverboat days; that’s where they they’d throw you if you cheated. Juno’s mother said if you were smart, there was no need to cheat. Cheaters were stupid, but the worst people in the world were people who got caught. They were not only stupid, but careless. “What’s the matter, gorgeous? Thinking about where you’re going to take me to dinner? I’m looking at being broke and hungry later. Put me out of my misery, please.” Kansas Bill’s