Read Morrison (Caldwell Brothers #2) for Free Online

plenty.
    I look down and lift my cards just enough so I can see them—two aces. I split ’em up, add some chips to the bet, and then thedealer hits each one.
    “Feeling pretty lucky, are you?” the chick with the wandering hand asks.
    “Luck has nothing to do with it.” I flip my cards—two
blackjacks,
both a winning score with kings.
    That’s one of my quirks, too. Kings of the same color tell me I should be happy with what I have, so I collect my chips and start to stand.
    She looks up at me and shrugs her shoulders. “Your loss.”
    “Baby, I’m a winner all the damn time, and my night isn’t over. Maybe I’ll catch you around.”
    I walk away, twelve hundred dollars ahead in two hours. I hadn’t planned to stay this long, but I am winning.
    Seeing my car come around and stop beside me, I motion for the guy to pull forward because I can’t fully inspect her if she’s in the shadows. When he pulls up, I walk around her, then hand hima fifty and I’m off. The last stop of the night is gonna have to be Caesars.
    I walk in to find the place is packed, so I look around for an open table, but don’t see one. What I do see is a group of four chicks eye-fucking me, and these girls are from money. I cannot only see it, but when one walks past me, I can fucking smell it.
    I look down at her feet and spot perfectly manicured toes stickingout of her Fendi peep-toe slides. I slowly look up to see legs that are smooth and golden tan. I know damn well she is freshly waxed. Her little black skirt hits above her knees, but not too far up. She is wearing a pink, silky-looking, tank-style shirt. Her long black hair is in loose waves, and her dark brown eyes meet my gaze. She is classy in an old-money kind of way.
    Her friends walk by,all of them looking me over, appraising me. She is interested, and they know it. That’s what first-class ass does. They don’t make the decision on their own. No, they have a board of little debutant directors.
    I watch as they nod at her with approval. As far as she and her friends are concerned, this isn’t going to be a challenge: She is definitely getting a piece of this quadruple-approved ass.
    But it’s not enough of a game for me. Even though I’d love to tap into that, she hasn’t earned the right to get on this ride, not yet, anyway. As a result, when I see an open spot at a table, I decide to ignore First Class and do the job I came for.
    As soon as my butt hits the chair, the dealer throws the cards down on the table, and I pick them up. Five-card draw and I am holding two queensand a jack. Not great odds, but I throw some extra chips on the pile and up the ante. Then I throw three cards back, keeping my queens, and get three in return. I now hold another queen and an ace in my hand—three of a kind, ace is high.
    The feeling of calmness washes over me. I know I’m gonna win, and when I do, I look around to see the same crew of girls checking me out.
    Still not interestedin them or their friend, I decide to call it a night at the tables. I’m up enough to put this game on hold. I walk toward the window to cash in my chips.
    She isn’t in my direct path, but with a few movements, she slinks right in front of me, looking expectant.
    I brush against her as I walk by, and she makes no attempt to move, giving me a whiff of her money with a hint of sweet, expensive perfume.
    After cashing in, I head toward the exit, deciding to go to Omni since the night is still young.
    A kaleidoscope of lights cascades through the main part of the club and a DJ plays some tune that attracts the crowd as I walk in. This place is four stories high and architecturally impressive. Between its dome ceiling and pillars and being filled with beautiful ass, bumping, grinding, moving, it’selectric.
    I don’t go to the dance floor, though. I walk to the bar.
    “Sparkling water, please, on the rocks.” The guy looks at me funny. “Listen up, man. I’m gonna tip you well, regardless of what I