Wesley hummed cryptically.
«Ignore him,» Franklin advised. «Sometimes I think he says that shit to stir us all up. If Wesley does know something, he’s not going to spill unless it looks like the apocalypse is nigh.»
The psychic’s smile grew. «Happens more than you’d think around here.»
She believed it. «You fund the clinic? By gambling and subsequently getting the crap beaten out of you?»
He touched his bruised cheek. «People don’t like it when you win all the time. But no, back-alley poker games don’t pay the bills. The stock market does.»
«Wesley’s a little superstitious,» Franklin said, dry amusement lacing every word. «He can’t seem to stop testing his luck, but he’s convinced God will strike him down if he uses the money on himself.»
As a basic personal philosophy went, it was similar to what Carmen’s mother had raised them to believe. «My mom used to tell us the same thing about our abilities. That we’d be punished if we abused them.»
«Fire and brimstone and a big angry devil tormenting you all day long.» Wesley shrugged and gestured to his face. «Or a beat down because you tempted fate. Wherever our powers come from, someone doesn’t want us using them to get rich quick. Unfortunately, I have a compulsive personality.»
«So you make this place possible, and warn everyone when an apocalypse is on the way. That seems like a pretty big chunk of good karma.»
«It would have to be. I really like gambling.» Wesley slanted a look at Franklin. «I know when to hold ’em. And when to fold ’em. Even when to walk away.»
It sounded like a long-standing joke. Franklin certainly groaned like it was and rubbed at the side of his face. «And someday we’re going to teach you when to run. Carmen, take him to one of the exam rooms and fix his face up, would you?»
He’d need stitches, at the very least. «Beats paperwork. Follow me, Mr. Dade.» She led him down the hall, but hesitated at the exam room door. «Does Franklin give you a chart, or does he keep this stuff off the books?»
«There’s probably one floating around somewhere.» He gave her a half-grin that utterly failed to be rakish. «You sure you want to find out how many times I’ve been punched in the face this month?»
«Pretty sure I don’t, actually.» She ushered him in and gestured toward the exam table. «I think you know the drill.»
Wesley stripped off his jacket and settled in like an old pro. «This is nothing, really. You should see what happens to card counters if you cross the line in the wrong casino.»
«Broken fingers?»
«And then some. Too bad, because it’s an art. Not much skill in knowing the future, but card counters can guess it.»
«Isn’t it more about memory?» Carmen grabbed some gloves and gauze. «Remembering what’s been played and extrapolating the rest?»
«Remembering what’s been played, keeping the count, knowing the odds…» He raised one eyebrow at her. «If you stitch me up so pretty I don’t have a scar, that’s an art too. Not less of one just because you learned it like any other skill.»
It sounded like Wesley Dade was trying to impart a life lesson, not talk about repairing facial lacs. «I’m a big fan of knowledge earned and hard work.»
«Of course you are. Franklin respects that, and he respects you.»
Honesty, Carmen. «I’m also a big fan of directness. I’m even okay with people being on the blunt side.»
Wesley smiled and held out both hands. «Just talking about counting cards. I like to talk to distract myself when needles are about to become intimate with my face.»
Whatever he was trying to say, he wanted — no, he needed her to listen. So Carmen dabbed at his eyebrow and smiled. «All right. Not everyone can do it, right? Count? Calculate the odds on the fly?»
«No, they can’t. But even the best… If you do it by yourself, it’s easier to get caught. You have to play the table, you know, and for that you need partners. If they’re good, they can watch how you change your betting strategy and figure it out.»
«There’s another option, you know — don’t do it. Find another hobby. Take up watercolors or knitting. Parasailing.»
«Lady luck’s a fickle lover,» Wesley admitted, «but some of us can’t keep from crawling back to her time and again. Funny thing about this instance, though, is that lady luck favors you if you bring a friend. Or two. Spotters keep count, and the big player drops in to strike while the iron’s hot.» He sighed. «Too bad none of my friends are good at counting. Alec Jacobson offered to make buttons out of my teeth if I tried to lure his mathematically gifted secretary off to a life of adventure and mystery.»
Carmen bit her lip to hold back a laugh. «Except for that part about Kat, I have to say, Mr. Dade…I have no idea what you’re talking about.»
«That’s the point, Dr. Mendoza.» He smiled, just a little. «God’s busy. He can’t smite us for bending the rules. Someday, it’ll make sense.»
«Like when the iron’s hot.»
«Smart girl.»
She hummed as she opened a suture kit. If she were a little smarter, maybe she could figure out the gambling precog’s cryptic words, and whether they were a promise…or a warning.
Chapter Fifteen
There were definite advantages to having a girlfriend.
Carmen’s skin was smooth and warm under his fingers, and he’d discovered he liked the feel of it. Tracing idle patterns on her back was better than any ritual when it came to quieting his mind. Granted, the soft sheen of sweat and the way her heart still beat too fast didn’t hurt. Alec was honest enough to admit that regular, enthusiastic sex with a woman who always knew exactly what he needed was enough to make a man drunk.
It seemed to have done wonders for Carmen’s mood too. She hadn’t unraveled whatever psychic trick it was that brought him inside her shields, and her emotions tickled over his skin, a gentle pressure he was slowly becoming used to. Understanding those emotions had been tricky at first, but now he was learning to separate frustration from anger, and desire from happiness.
All of them were present now. Anger struggling to reassert itself, though happiness seemed to have taken over. Alec let his fingers drift in another lazy circle before speaking. «I like this thing you did. Letting me feel what you’re feeling. Different way of seeing the world, huh?»
«Mmm, I thought about rebuilding everything, but I was dragging my feet.» She propped her head up and smiled at him, her expression one of satisfied, sleepy pleasure. «I like it too.»
Tenderness stirred inside him. He liked her. Not just the hot sex, or the admittedly unusual pleasure of being fed home-cooked meals on a regular basis. He liked her, especially when she had that lazy smile that was nothing but naked, open trust. «You look happy, but you still feel a little pissed off.»
She groaned. «My uncle’s a jackass. While we were gone, he mounted a legal attack on the clinic, all because Franklin threatens his manhood, or maybe his authority. Or both.»
«Or because Franklin’s been my friend for years, and I support the neutrality of his clinic.» Not a pleasant thought, but he’d had it before.
«Whatever the reason, I’m starting to wonder if anyone is ever going to make him stop.»
It wasn’t where he’d expected the conversation to lead, and some of the warm, pleasant afterglow faded. «It’s not that easy.»
«Right. Because everyone else on the Southeast council is busy trying to figure out how they can snatch power for themselves.»
«Not that. If you stop Mendoza today, then tomorrow you’ve got to stop Reed. And the next week, Hopkins will be banging down your door. It never ends, Carmen, and the person who tried to stop it would get himself killed, eventually.»