He flipped up the corners of the cards just far enough for him to see. He was met with a king of hearts and a king of spades. He had to check his smile, but he couldn’t stop the thought of how even his cards were an omen. In a way they were just like him, he could be the king of love and romance, or he could be left with spades — the symbol of war. Love and war, together in his poker hand and in his life. Individually the cards were nothing, but together they were strong, powerful, and able to rule the table if he could play them well.
Or maybe he could have gotten their meaning all wrong. Maybe they meant he would have to fight for love in order to be the ruler of his own life.
He shook away the thoughts. They were nothing more than a couple of great cards, a pair of kings that would help him win the game … or set up Nate’s collusion as the gaming commissioner wanted. This night and the future of the people around him rested on his shoulders.
Vice and another of the players folded as the play passed around the table. Chance checked.
“Don’t have the cards, eh, Take-a-Chance?” Three-Eyed Nate said, breaking the tense silence between the players.
Chance didn’t take the bait. It was only the beginning, he had to play tight, but he had to play the hand he was dealt.
“I get it. You’re used to playing with your little friend Kodie, aren’t you?” The eye on Nate’s forehead seemed to widen as the man gave a gape-mouthed laugh. Chance tried to ignore the man’s jibes as the play continued around him. The game was going to be long if this was how Three-Eyed Nate was going to play.
The dealer burned a card, setting it to the side, and then dealt the flop cards. Queen of hearts, eight of hearts, and a two of diamonds.
Chance had three suited cards in hearts and the pair of kings. The odds were still in his favor.
Two more players folded, leaving only Chance and Three-Eyed Nate in the hand.
“Don’t forget how much you owe me, Take-a-Chance,” Nate chided.
It was going to be hard not to follow his gut and push Three-Eyed Nate’s fat face into the felt. The only way Chance could win was to play tight, no emotions, no tells — and especially no anger. He couldn’t let Three-Eyed Nate get under his skin.
He threw out a bet of ten thousand.
“Whew,” Three-Eyed Nate said in an exhale. “Must have a damn fine hand.” The man stared at Chance, waiting for him to make a mistake, but Nate would have to keep waiting — Chance was here to win.
Chance gave a shallow laugh. “Stay in or get out, it’s up to you, but if you played like you did last year in the World Series of Poker Tournament, I’m sure you won’t need to get too comfortable. You won’t make it to the final two.”
The dealer flipped the turn card. King of clubs. The king of the peasants. Perfect. Three of a kind with his pocket kings. Chance had the win almost regardless of what the last card, or the river, would bring.
Nate flipped up the corner of his cards.
“You gonna bet, or do I need to call time on you?”
“I have ninety seconds.” Nate dropped down the corners of his cards. “Check.”
Chance bet fifteen thousand. Nate drew his hands to his face, covering his mouth. After a few seconds, he reached down and threw in his cards, folding the hand.
“I hope you’ll have enough cash left at the end of the game,” Chance jabbed. “I’d hate for you to lose your ass.”
Nate leaned back, even his tattooed eye seemed to glare at him. Chance took his time organizing the chips he’d won into four neat stacks. Mr. Blackwater took a step forward. Catching Chance’s eye, he shook his head — reminding Chance of what all he had to lose.
• • •
The door to the elevator opened and the couple standing in front of Harper and Dr. Redbird stepped out, leaving them alone.
Harper turned to face her enemy. “I just don’t understand. You want to have a child, yes?”
Dr. Redbird answered with a tight nod.
“Well, if Jenna wasn’t able to carry a child to term with GX 149, then what makes you think you’ll be able to?
The doctor’s purse slipped on her shoulder and the woman jerked it back into place — allowing nothing out of control. “Don’t think you are smarter than me … I just need the drugs and then I can figure out a way to have a child.”
The elevator climbed, carrying them higher up the building.
“Clearly they didn’t work for Jenna — and they probably won’t work for you.” Harper tried to keep her face straight as the thought of Jenna and her miscarriage came to the front of her mind. Suddenly it made sense, the drugs had helped with fertility, but in order for a pregnancy to be carried to term, the woman had to also mate with a god or demigod.
Harper’s phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out and studied the text. “Chance is playing,” Starling had written.
“Give me that fucking thing.” Dr. Redbird pulled the phone from Harper’s hand and dropped it into her purse. “I don’t need anyone getting any goddamn ideas. All I want is the drugs. What’s so hard about this?”
Did Dr. Redbird understand the link? Did she know the missing requirement for carrying to term?
The elevator dinged and the car came to a stop at the thirty-fifth floor leading to the penthouse. She needed to get away from the doctor. She couldn’t give the woman the drugs.
“I already know what you’re missing,” Harper said, attempting to entice Dr. Redbird away from her objective.
“What are you talking about?”
If Harper told the woman what she knew, she would be putting Chance in danger. Without a doubt the woman would go after him, taking what she needed to get what she desired. But Harper couldn’t think of any way around this … She had a choice — give up Starling or give up Chance.
He had trusted her. He would never trust her again if she told his secret, but there was no other way. She couldn’t let Starling’s last lifeline, her drugs, be taken by this mad vulture-woman. Harper loved Chance, but she couldn’t leave Starling with nothing. She’d made the girl a promise.
“If you let me keep the GX 149 in my possession, I have something else, something better, I can offer in its place.”
“What do you mean?” Dr. Redbird eyed her suspiciously. “The medication worked. Starling is proof of that. Why would I want anything else?”
“But the drugs didn’t work for Jenna. And there’s a reason. Even if I give you the drugs, they aren’t going to work, but if you let me keep them I will help you.”
The elevator door opened. Sticking out her foot, Dr. Redbird held open the door and stared at the penthouse’s door.
“I want the GX 149. Dr. McDougal told me there was no more — you had the only supply left. I can’t go back without them. They won’t stop looking until I get them.”
Harper shuddered as she wondered who they were. Dr. Redbird made it sound like she was the one who wanted the drugs, but were there others? Were others behind her search? Was that why she had become so desperate?
The world seemed to clear around her. Dr. Redbird wasn’t acting alone.
“I know you need the drugs. But if you give me time, maybe I can replicate the chemical compounds — that way we all have what we need. That’s what Dr. McDougal and I were working on before … before you killed him.”
The woman stuffed her hands around her body like a petulant child. “He knew the cost of his defiance. And you should know too. If you are lying to me, or if you try to deceive me, I will not only kill you, but I’ll kill your friends as well.”
Not if Harper could kill the doctor first. “I get it, but I’m not trying to defy you, I’m only trying to help you,” she lied. “Are you going to leave the drugs with me and let me do my research? Or are you willing to risk it all?”
“If I take the drugs, I risk nothing and I ge
t what I want.”
“For now. But what happens if you don’t get pregnant right away? You killed the only other person besides me who can help you get more. You’ll just end up where you started — frustrated, and unable to have a baby.”
As the words sank in, the woman’s face tightened. “Shut up,” Dr. Redbird scowled. “Just give me the drugs. There’s no way you can help me. If you knew the secret, you would have helped your sister instead of letting her get killed. Don’t think you will get away with playing me for some kind of fool.”
Grabbing Harper, the woman shoved her out of the elevator. “Go get me the drugs. Now. No more screwing around.”
No one got away with touching her like that — least of all the little vulture-shifter. “Fine.”
Harper reached into her purse and drew out the penthouse key and slid it into the lock. The woman couldn’t get the drugs. She couldn’t threaten the people Harper cared about. She couldn’t win.
The door opened with a click.
Harper walked through the doorway toward the overstuffed gold chairs. The door slammed shut behind her. The noise echoed through the room and Harper turned with a start. Standing behind the door, to the doctor’s right, was a man. He rushed at Dr. Redbird, setting her off balance as he drove his shoulder into her chest. She flew backward into the small table by the door with a surprised, garbled scream. The vase of fresh cut flowers flew from the table and crashed, spreading glass and water like sparkling tears across the hardwood floor.
Amongst the spray of tears was Dr. Redbird’s purse. Dr. McDougal’s manila envelope, the key to Starling’s future, stuck out of the top. Harper stepped over and grabbed the envelope and stuck it under her arm.
She moved to stand as she noticed, in the middle of a pile of broken glass, the small white syringe. Almost in a trance, Harper stepped over to the needle, barely noticing the wrestling bodies behind her.
Through the thin plastic of the syringe, a small bubble wiggled its way to the top, struggling as it tried to break from its trap. Picking up the syringe, she pulled the orange cap from its tip and stared at the sharp point of the instrument. It was so small. This thing in her hands seemed almost innocuous, so unlikely to hurt, but she knew the truth. Dr. Redbird had killed and she wouldn’t stop killing until she got what she wanted. There was no end to the pain she would inflict if she got her way. There was only one way to stop a mad woman like her.
Harper turned back. The man was on top of Dr. Redbird, his dark hair fell into his sweat-covered face. Dr. Redbird reached up and drew her nails down his face. “You bitch,” he yelled, pushing down her hand, he wrapped his leg around hers and flipped her over in one clean motion. Jerking her hands behind her back, he reached down to his waist and pulled out a zip tie. Blood rose from the gashes on his cheek and started to descend down the tan skin of his young, early-twenties face.
“Jasper?” Harper moved toward the pair.
“What are you doing?” the young man asked, wrapping the zip tie around Dr. Redbird’s wrists and pulling it tight.
“She has to die.”
He looked at the woman who lay between his legs. “The sisterhood wants her to live. They don’t want a war.”
“No one is going to fight for this woman. She’s evil.” Harper took another step and raised the needle like it was a knife and she only needed to let it plunge.
Dr. Redbird twisted under his legs and looked back toward Harper. “You slut. You and your kind are going to pay for this. If you kill me, I vow that every last Catharterian will come after you and your little Starling.” She jerked and looked back at the man. “You assholes are nothing.”
“Give me the needle.” The man stuck out his hand.
Harper let the needle lower. “She needs to die. She can’t be trusted. If we don’t kill her now she will never quit coming after us.”
“You need to trust me.” He pointed at the needle. “Give it to me.”
The glass crunched under Harper’s feet as she took the last step. Jasper pulled the needle from her fingers.
He lowered the needle. Its silver tip plunged into the dilated vein protruding from the woman’s reddened neck.
“No!” Dr. Redbird thrashed between the man’s legs, but his muscle-riddled body tensed and held the woman in place. He pushed the plunger down. The bubble in the liquid moved downward and disappeared, passing from one death trap to another.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The cards were falling Chance’s way, but it seemed like however he played he couldn’t get ahead — something was wrong. The men had to be cheating, as Mr. Blackwater had assumed. There was no way, with Chance’s luck, that he could be losing so badly. Reaching forward, Chance picked up two ten thousand dollar chips and posted the small blind. Vice followed, posting the twenty thousand dollar big blind.
The dealer picked up the cards and dealt out the remaining three players’ two pocket cards. Vice’s aviator sunglasses reflected the lights as he leaned forward and lifted the corner of his cards. He glanced in Chance’s direction and his body tensed.
As the man pulled his hands back from his pocket cards, his fingers tapped on the felt table. If he hadn’t been watching, Chance would have certainly missed the signal. He glanced over toward Nate. He was leaning back in his chair a smug grin on his face, but they hadn’t gotten away with anything. “I’ll play. Call,” Nate said, setting a twenty thousand dollar stack out to match the big blind.
By most standards the bet would have been questionable, but the bet was enough to make Chance wonder what Nate held in his pocket cards. If it had been nothing, the bet would have been smaller. Whatever Nate held, and his partner had signaled, was enough to make him feel confident to play the round.
The doors to the room opened a little wider and Harper squeezed through the mass of bystanders who crowded the doorway. Behind her walked a dark-haired man with deep scratches down his cheek, which he tried to cover with even darker sunglasses, almost matching the ones often worn by poker players. The man was up to something. Chance could see it in his stride, almost like he was the boss, except he looked as if he waited for the hammer to fall.
Harper had only been supposed to meet Dr. McDougal and get the drugs. This man didn’t seem like the doctor type. Instead he seemed more like the type that Chance needed to worry about — the type who would steal the woman he loved. If he hadn’t been required to sit there and play the hand, if he hadn’t been trying to help out the gaming commissioner by taking down the two men who shared the table, he would have been at her side in an instant.
Kodie caught his gaze and Chance motioned toward Harper and the unwelcome stranger at her side. Kodie made a beeline to the pair.
“She’s a fine piece of ass, Take-a-Chance,” Three-Eyed Nate said with a grating laugh as he motioned toward Harper. “I don’t know what she would be doing here, looking at you like that.”
“She’s not here for me.”
Chance caught Harper’s gaze. Her mouth formed into words, but he couldn’t understand what she tried to say.
“What’re you gonna do, Take-a-Chance? Monitor traffic all day long? Or are you gonna bet?” Nate signaled the dealer. “Let’s play the clock here. I know it’s hard to make up your mind when you aren’t the best.”
He lifted the corner of his cards exposing the ace of hearts and king of hearts, which rested in his pocket hand. The cards couldn’t be any better, but it all would depend on the flop. Even if the other men were cheating, he still had a chance to win and make the damn cheaters wish they’d never tried to tip him over.
“Call,” Chance said, as he laid another ten thousand dollars into the pot, matching the bet of the players around him. He tried to play it cool and not tip them off to the potentially lethal blow his hand could deliver. He needed to wait for the moment to strike.
“Call.” Vice scrat
ched the tip of his nose. Everything the man did, every action he took, seemed unnatural, almost forced. The men in security and the pit bosses had to be seeing what was going on.
Chance had seen cheaters before, but these cheaters were highly skilled. Watching them in action it was tough to tell exactly what was happening, and had he not been tipped off, he would have probably been just like Kodie, falling victim to their entrapment.
The dealer burned a card, then started to deal the flop cards.
Ten of hearts. Perfect, only two more well-placed hearts and he would have the best hand in poker.
Ace of diamonds. Diamonds were said to be a girl’s best friend, but in this case they were his. At the very least, if all the other cards fell through, he now sat on a high pair of aces.
The dealer flipped the last card. Jack of spades. A little of his hope drifted away into the black pool of ink that littered the card.
He would need two more hearts to have a flush and maybe the power position. He had a strong hand, but for a moment he considered folding. The two cheaters could have the table to themselves, bidding away against each other. He could use the time to his advantage, waiting until the moment one pushed the other out of the game. But it would cost him. He’d have to keep posting the blinds. It would get expensive.
He placed a chip on his pocket cards. “Check.” If he didn’t bet big, he could watch the men and gauge the cards in their hands. They wanted his money, they wanted to beat him, but were they willing to put themselves at risk in doing it?
Vice’s lips twitched, almost in disgust. “Check.”
Three-Eyed Nate’s buggy little third eye scrunched as he scowled. “Bunch of chicken shits, I see.” He motioned to the dealer. “Check.”
The pair must have been waiting to see what the turn would bring, waiting to see if they could keep him in the game.
The dealer burned a card and turned over the turn card. Queen of hearts. The true gauge of a great poker player was their ability to forecast what was in the other players’ hands. And right now, the best either of the other players could hope for was a straight, or they could be going for the heart flush as well. Who held the winning hand would all come down to the river.
The Nymph's Curse: The Collection Page 58
