Dealer's Mage 4

  Nick Nolace

  Copyright © 2026 Nick Nolace

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Shout Out

  Dukes of Harem

  https://www.facebook.com/groups/dukesofharem

  Club Kaiju

  https://www.facebook.com/groups/484560235438701

  Harem GameLit

  https://www.facebook.com/groups/HaremGamelit/about

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Shout Out

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Afterword

  Chapter 1

  I sat at the curved, neon-lit bar on the main casino floor, nursing a whiskey on the rocks. The glass felt cool in my hands. A jazz fusion track hummed in the background, a bit tinny over the overhead speakers. Colored lights flickered all around, reflecting in my whiskey and snagging my attention every time the strobe changed hues. I’m not usually one to hang around a bar—I mostly stick to the tables—but tonight I needed a moment to clear my head. My last few days had been nothing but high-stakes hustle and too many near misses with the house enforcers. The city was the same as ever, all glitz, no soul.

  A tap on my shoulder made me turn around, and I saw a man sliding onto the stool next to mine. His posture was relaxed, arms casually resting on the bar, as though he came here every night. He wore a dark jacket that looked worn from too much time out in the city’s acid rains.

  He gave me a small nod. “Mind if I sit?”

  I shrugged. “Public seat.”

  He ordered something from the bartender—looked like top-shelf bourbon—and gave me a sidelong glance. I didn’t recognize him at all, which already put me on edge. I’d gotten used to seeing the same hustlers or the occasional mark, but this was new territory.

  “Nice place to wind down,” he said, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Name’s Mace.”

  He waited, and I tried to weigh him as best I could. He looked fit, hair trimmed close, and his eyes had the faint shimmer of someone who’d once practiced some form of magic. There was a faint aura around him, though I couldn’t read it clearly. Not many people approached me unless they had an angle.

  I nodded. “Collin.”

  “Collin, huh?” He raised his glass. We clinked in a brief, forced gesture. “I hear you’ve got a reputation.”

  My stomach turned. Nobody who uttered that line was ever up to anything good. “A lot of people in this city have reputations, Mace. You might need to be more specific.”

  He gave me a knowing grin. “High-stakes gambler. Kind of a legend down here. That ring any bells for you?”

  I sighed and took a sip. “I dabble.”

  “One of these days, we should play.”

  I glanced around the busy floor. The casino had a half-dozen poker tables that I could see from my seat. All were lit with that same neon style, each table beaming with a different color. The dealers wore crisp suits, and the players sitting around them displayed the usual range of emotions: excitement, desperation, or utter detachment.

  He set his drink down. “Care for a few rounds right now?”

  I frowned. I’d come here to unwind, not get dragged into a random game with a random stranger. But a spark of curiosity made me consider the offer. “You sure? Dealers are tough around here.”

  Mace shrugged. “I like a challenge.”

  After a beat, I found myself sliding off the barstool. My gut told me to be cautious, but my gambler’s itch nudged me forward. “All right, Mace. Let’s see what kind of cards you play.”

  We walked over to a table with a vacant side. The current players had just finished a hand, so we took seats, each scattering a small stack of chips in front of us. The dealer nodded politely at our approach; I recognized him, but he wasn’t someone who would do me favors. He was employed by the house, and the house had no love for me these days.

  “So,” I said, shuffling my chips between my hands. “We going to keep it friendly?”

  Mace smirked. “Depends on your definition of friendly.” He gestured for the dealer to start. “Let’s do standard stakes first. Then we can go heavier if your confidence holds out.”

  The cards were dealt. I kept my expression neutral as I lifted the corners of my hole cards. Two hearts in mid-range. Not a spectacular start, but workable. Betting began. Mace’s face remained frustratingly unreadable. He was calm and smooth, as if he’d been doing this for years. The only sign I caught was when he tapped his index finger on the felt after every bet, maybe a habit or a subtle signal. I called the blinds, studied the flop, and made my bets accordingly.

  We played a few hands. Mace won some, I won some, nothing remarkable. In the process, I picked up tidbits of his style: He favored slow, methodical bets. He rarely overreached unless the flop went decidedly in his favor.

  The real tension came when we started rattling through chips like water. The table had grown quiet. Two other players folded out, leaving just me and Mace. The house onlookers drifted closer, sniffing a big pot. Maybe they liked seeing me sweat. Or maybe they wanted to see if Mace would fall for the city’s rig—though I sensed no active enchantments on this specific table. Not at the moment anyway.

  Mace raised the stakes again. This time, I suspected he had a strong hand. I read faint magical pulses each time he touched his chips, but I couldn’t interpret the pattern quickly. If he was cheating, it was subtle. The turn card slid onto the table, giving me a potential flush. I reached into my mental toolkit, reading the faint strings of possibility. My talent as a spell-reading mage is less about raw power and more about discerning patterns, but I’d learned to adapt that to reading people, too.

  He gave me an unreadable look and tossed in more chips. Everyone circled around as the pot swelled. The tension felt like static, snapping in the air. The last card came face up: a heart. That gave me a flush. A faint rush of excitement ran through me, and I forced a calm front.

  Mace’s voice was low. “All in.”

  I stared at him. That move was brazen. Either I was reading him completely wrong, or he was trying to scare me out. I eyed his chips—he matched me almost perfectly. With a flush in my hand, the odds were in my favor. I drew a breath, checked my read again. Then I slid my entire stack forward. “Call.”

  The onlookers leaned in. The dealer asked us to reveal. Mace flipped over two pair, a good hand but not unstoppable. I showed the flush. A collected murmur rippled around us as the dealer pushed the huge pile of chips my way. Mace blinked once, mouth tightening, then a slow smile spread. He seemed genuinely impressed.

  He stood up, shrugged out of his jacket, and gave a quick chuckle. “Well played, Collin.”

  “Thanks.” I tapped the rim of my glass—a small gesture of respect.

  He noticed the house pit bosses eyeing me from across the casino floor, so he grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and leaned in close. “You’re as good as they say. Maybe better. I want you to have this.” He reached into a pocket and held out a slim memory stick. “Keep it safe.”

  I frowned, unsure. “What’s on it?”

  He shrugged like it didn’t matter. “Important data. I’ll be in touch.” Without another word, he turned and strode away, leaving me with a pile of chips I’d barely had time to stack and some sort of digital secret in my hand.

  I finally stood up from the table, ignoring the side glances from the suits near the pit. I cashed out quickly, keeping the memory stick tucked in my jacket. Whatever that was about, it felt like trouble. And yet, part of me was curious. That only made me more uneasy.

  I finished my whiskey and headed toward the elevator. As I walked, I caught glimpses in the polished floors and columns of neon. My dark brown hair looked a little messy, and there were lines of fatigue under my steel-gray eyes. So far, it had been a profitable, if not entirely normal, evening. I guessed I’d have some explaining to do once I got back upstairs.

  I rode up to the penthouse in silence. A faint ding announced my floor, and the elevator doors slid open onto the private corridor that led to my place. The door recognized my passkey, and once inside, I reflexively scanned for magical wards. Everything looked normal. At least for now.

  I let out a slow breath, memory stick in hand, and tried not to overthink whatever Mace’s angle might be. This city had taught me something: whenever someone gave you a gift, read the fine print or risk your neck. And something told me I’d better read it soon, or else it would read me first.

  Chapter 2

  The rush from winning that poker pot simmered under my skin as I unlocked the door to my penthouse. Lana’s familiar, sultry voice drifted from the living area. “Collin? That you?”

  Her voice always carried a certain smoky quality, like the aftertaste of a lounge performance. I found her loun
ged on the couch, shifting to sit up as I entered. She wore a silky robe in emerald green, matching the color of her eyes. Her raven-black hair, curling around her shoulders, made a sharp contrast. She’d clearly been waiting.

  “Long night?” she teased. “Your usual haunt, or did you pick a new table?”

  I tossed my jacket onto a nearby recliner. “I was just supposed to get a drink. Ended up at a table with some stranger named Mace. He gave me this.” I flashed the memory stick.

  She cocked an eyebrow. “A fan of your work?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe he wants to use me. I have no clue, but it feels like a setup.”

  I explained the bare bones of the evening, skipping the tedious details of the game. Lana’s expression soured. “And you walked away with that data after beating him?”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s the gist. Said he’ll be in touch.”

  “That’s shady,” she muttered, pulling her robe closed at her bust as if that could shield her from the memory stick’s presence. “So, you’re going to crack it open?”

  I leaned against the back of the couch. “Honestly, I’m not sure. Could be laced with a virus or some backdoor enchantment. I don’t want to risk my system or the wards in here.”

  She stood and walked around the couch to me, her expression intense. She put a hand on my chest, leaning close until I felt her breath on my neck. “We can handle it tomorrow,” she whispered, giving me a quick, warm kiss. “You worry too much.”

  Her heavy-lidded eyes convinced me that was enough conversation for now. But just as I placed the memory stick down on the side table, she pulled away, mischief dancing on her emerald gaze. “Sorry, babe. I need some sleep. Performance tomorrow at the lounge. Join me in bed if you’re not busy.”

  I smirked. “Go on. I’ll be there soon.”

  She winked and walked off toward the bedroom, her robe swaying around her hips. I exhaled, letting the tension of the night slip out. Lana always had that effect on me—an ability to lighten my mood, even in stressful times.

  I picked the memory stick back up, turning it in my hand. The faint outline of a sigil was embossed near the end, but I couldn’t make it out without hooking it up to something. That alone made me cautious. I slid it into a small protective pouch in my desk drawer, intending to analyze it further when I had the proper tools.

  A cool breeze snaked through the penthouse. I realized the balcony doors were open. The reflection of city lights danced on the window, and I heard the faint hum of passing traffic far below. Feeling restless, I stepped out onto the balcony. The cityscape spread out beneath me—neon signs, tall casino towers, and the glimmer of wet streets from a recent drizzle.

  Selene was perched on one of the balcony chairs with her knees tucked up. Her silver-blonde hair was lit by the glow of the city. She turned her icy blue eyes toward me.

  “Hey,” I said softly, sliding the door shut behind me.

  She gave me a small, shy smile. “Couldn’t sleep.” Her voice matched her personality: quiet and gentle, with an undercurrent of intensity that always caught me off guard.

  I moved to sit beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Something on your mind?”

  She leaned into my touch, relaxing slightly. “Just the usual. Been debugging those casino enchantments all week. They’re definitely rigged in ways I’ve never seen.” Her gaze shifted to me. “But you know that better than anyone.”

  I let out a rueful chuckle. “Don’t remind me. It’s half the reason my face is all over the city’s rumor mill.”

  She reached across and turned my face to hers. “We’ll figure it out.”

  For a moment, we sat in calm silence, the sky above us a dull indigo. All was quiet aside from distant traffic hum. Then the night exploded in sudden light and noise. A helicopter rose up, its spotlight blinding us. I shielded my eyes, heart pounding.

  “What the—” Selene began.

  Before she could finish, figures in black tactical armor jumped onto the balcony, repelling on harnesses. They landed on the smooth concrete surface with a resonant thud. My pulse spiked, and I sprang to my feet. Selene stood behind me as I sized up the intruders. There were at least four of them, maybe more behind the glare.

  “Collin,” a voice shouted. “Could’ve saved us both some trouble if you’d used the memory stick!”

  The voice cut through the rotor noise. Mace. He stepped onto the balcony behind his men, wearing the same dark jacket. Now, though, he looked furious. “Such a wasted opportunity,” he spat.

  “Damn it,” I growled, stepping in front of Selene protectively.

  The black-armored men lunged forward. I ducked a swing from the first one, driving a fist into his stomach. He stumbled, but these guys were trained, and the second man caught my arm in a locking grip. Selene tried to zap them with a quick flick of her tech-mage device, but one of the men twisted her arm behind her back, forcing her to drop it.

  I struggled to break free, my heart hammering. Mace’s footsteps thudded as he approached, punching a command into a device strapped to his wrist. “You should’ve done as I asked,” he growled.

  His men slammed me against the balcony railing, forcing my arms behind me so tightly I was worried something would break. Selene cried out as another man cuffed her hands. She looked shocked, but she was tough—her eyes blazed with defiance.

  Mace’s face hovered close, voice cold in my ear. “I needed you to do the job for me... but since you refused, I have to take you in person.” He nodded at his men. “Put them both in the helicopter.”

  “Wait!” I shouted, twisting in the grip, but a gloved fist cracked against my ribs, driving the wind from my lungs. Black light danced on the edges of my vision. Next thing I knew, I was being dragged across the balcony floor toward the waiting chopper. The pounding blades kicked up a roar so loud I could hardly hear Selene scream.

  We were shoved onto the helicopter’s bench seats, arms bound behind us. Mace slipped in behind us, pointing to one of his men. “Close it up.”

  The door slammed shut with a metallic clunk. The city lights vanished beneath us as we lifted into the swirling night. Fear and anger fought for dominance in my chest. I managed to catch Selene’s eyes. She stared at me, her expression a silent question: what do we do now?

  I had no immediate answer. All I knew was that if Mace wanted us alive, that meant we had a chance—small, but real. I had to bide my time, watch for any openings, and figure out exactly what the hell Mace was playing at.

  Chapter 3

  The helicopter ride felt punishingly long. The hum and vibrations rattled through my bones while the desert landscape stretched out beneath us in the early hints of dawn. City lights disappeared behind the horizon, replaced by endless darkness and occasional clusters of flickering shack lights far below. The tension in my shoulders was unreal.

  Selene sat cuffed to a metal railing near the door, wincing whenever we hit turbulence. I pressed my back against the hull, arms still secured behind me, trying not to move my aching ribs from that earlier punch. Across from me, Mace leaned against a seat with a triumphant smirk.

  “Why?” I managed to ask over the rotor noise. “I beat you fair and square. You seemed impressed.”

  Mace laughed, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “I was hoping you’d run that memory stick the moment you got home. But you decided to be cautious. Now my buyer wants you, and I’m going to get paid either way.”

  “Buyer,” I said bitterly. “So, there’s a bounty on me?”

  “Congratulations,” he said, spreading his hands. “You’re valuable, Collin. You and your fancy gambling magic. The city’s big players don’t like an uncontrollable variable messing with their rigged system.”

  Selene tried to pull against her restraints, face twisting in pain. One of Mace’s men shoved her back. I felt a flare of rage. But I swallowed it. “We’re miles from anywhere, Mace. We crash out here, and no one finds the bodies.”

  He chuckled again. “No one’s crashing. My pilot’s good. Once we deliver you, I walk away with a nice payday.”

  I looked at Selene and saw the spark of an idea flicker in her eyes. She mouthed something I could barely read: “Wait.” I gave a slight nod, scanning the cabin. Four men, plus Mace, plus the pilot up front. That was six total. They all wore protective gear. We were unarmed—unless I got creative.