The Ultimate Bet

And, given Jim’s full house, it was virtually impossible for the devil to outdraw him.

Jim tossed chips into the pot. “Raise. Sixty more. That makes it an even one hundred grand.”

“I can add, Mr. Steadman.”

And Jim thought he sensed strength in the devil’s voice.

The devil rested his chin on the palm of his hand, then scratched his cheek. Finally, “I Call.”

Jim dealt the last down card and didn’t bother to look at his. He already had kings full.

“Two hundred thousand.”

The devil slowly squeezed out his last hole card. His eyes widened for a moment and a shiver went through Jim.

“Well, Mr. Steadman, I think this is the pot of the night, the deciding hand.”

He pushed in his chips. “I’m all in.”

Jim stiffened and sucked in his lips. He stared at the devil’s cards and rubbed his chin.

What the hell did he pick up? He wouldn’t go all in on nothing. Bluffing? No. Couldn’t count on that. The odds of him beating me are slim to none. Jim couldn’t throw this hand away. He’d never be able to look at himself in a mirror again.

“Okay. Let’s do it. I call.” He pushed in all of his chips.

The devil slowly turned up his hole cards.

Three more sevens, giving him four.

Jim slumped in his chair. His head fell to his chest and his arms dropped to his sides. He looked up at the devil, wanting to say something, but couldn’t get anything out. He’d just lost his soul and could almost feel it leave his body. He was drained. Empty. Skin and bones.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Steadman. You played a wonderful game. Your skills were almost overwhelming. But you just made the right move at the wrong time.”

Jim was silent.