"But I'm no good at that sort of thing."
"Here. I got you some help." He reached into the front inside pocket of his sports coat. "Put this on."
"What is it?"
"Call it a prop."
He handed it over.
"It doesn't even look real," I said.
"Why not?"
"Because it's too huge, like bubble-gum machine huge." I slipped the ring onto my finger and held out my hand for a quick inspection. "No one's gonna believe this."
"Don't worry," he said. "They're not too bright."
I laughed. "That's what you think. Girls always know."
"Not always," he said.
I gave Bishop a sideways glance. "You're up to something."
"Am I?"
"Definitely." I glanced again at the ring. "When did you buy this?"
"Last month."
"When last month?"
"A few days before your arrest."
"But you didn't know I'd be coming with you tonight."
"True." His voice softened. "But I did know what I wanted. And that hasn't changed."
Again, I glanced down at the ring. It was breathtakingly beautiful. But when I glanced up again, what I saw in front of me was far more beautiful than any material thing in this world – the look in Bishop's eyes when he said, "I love you, Selena."
My heart was racing, and I was having a hard time catching my breath. "I love you too."
Kneeling beside me, he took my hand in his. "And I've never stopped loving you." He grinned. "Say it."
My voice was breathless. "Say what?"
"Say you'll be mine forever."
"Oh my God." I glanced at the ring. I glanced at him. "Are you–? Is this–? Are you serious?"
"Dead serious. Marry me."
I dove into his arms and said 'yes' so many times that I lost count. He was everything that I'd ever wanted. All these years, no one had ever been able to take his place. And now, no one would have to.
Chapter 97
The next Monday brought Edgar Kreezak. I was sitting in the coffee shop, reviewing notes for another freelance story, when he pulled up a seat across from me. He tossed a big white envelope onto the table.
"Go on," he said. "Open it up."
Inside the envelope I saw a typed document with an official-looking seal. "What's this?" I asked.
"Call it an engagement present," he said. "As of today, the law's officially changed."
"The fortune-telling law?" I stared at the document. "When'd that happen?"
"Today," he said. "At a special council session."
"Holy crap," I said. "You made this happen?"
Edgar nodded. "With some help."
"From who?"
"You know the state senator, Nicholas Armstrong?"
I winced. "Yeah?"
"He threw his muscle behind it."
"For us? But he hates our store."
Edgar shrugged. "He said he owed you a favor. Something about his wife."
"Carolyn," I said.
"Yeah, I hear she's a real firecracker."
"That's one way to put it," I said.
"Too bad firecrackers and political campaigns don't mix," Edgar said.
"What do you mean?"
"He was planning to run for congress."
I paused. "Was?"
Edgar shrugged. "Yup. Was. He changed his mind last week. Something about taking time off to work on his marriage."
"No kidding?"
"No kidding."
I glanced again at the document. "Thank you," I said. "This is really great news."
"I should be thanking you," he said. "You're the one who solved my condo worries."
"Not just me," I said. "But what will happen with them? Do you know?"
"They'll still move forward," Edgar said. "But with the original plans. No expansion, no zoning changes. I hear some investors are sniffing around. Conrad'll have no trouble unloading them."
"He'll have to sell?" I said.
"Oh yeah," Edgar said. "He won't be doing any developing where he's going."
That night, Bishop challenged to me a game of poker.
"Just the two of us?" I asked.
"Why not?" he said. "You afraid?"
"Of you? Never." I went to the cupboard and pulled out a deck along with my case of poker chips. We chatted as we played.
With my left wrist in a cast, dealing was a little awkward, but immensely fun, because it gave me the perfect excuse to watch the ring sparkle as it caught the light.
"Bishop?" I said.
"Hmm?"
"What happened to that first ring? Just so you know, I'd have loved it just as much."
"It's somewhere in Texas," he said.
"Really? Where?"
"A couple miles off shore."
"You threw it I the ocean?"
He gave a hollow laugh. "It was either me or the ring."
"That's awful," I said.
"Ancient history," he said.
"And what about your condo?"
"Our condo," he said.
"But what if I hate it?" I teased.
"Then we'll get something else. Matter of fact," he said, "I'm shopping for a place down south too."
"Really? Where?"
He gave me a smile that took my breath away. "Baby, wherever you want."
I knew I was grinning stupidly at him. But I couldn’t make myself stop. I threw a handful of poker chips onto the table. "You're nuts. You know that?"
"Takes one to know one," he said, rearranging the cards in his hands. "I'll call your bet."
I laid my cards on the table. "Read 'em and weep. Three aces."
Bishop pulled his cards below table level.
I groaned. "Oh no, not this again."
He smiled and tossed his first card onto the table. The king of hearts.
"Will you stop it?" I said.
He tossed out the second one, the king of spades.
I laughed. "Come on, will you just show them already?"
He tossed out the third, the two of diamonds.
I tapped my fingers on the table.
Bishop tossed out the fourth card, the two of hearts. I studied the cards on the table. He had two pair and one card remaining. I knew it. The lucky bastard had a full house.
I waited for the fifth card, but Bishop made no move.
"Alright, so what is it?" I asked. "A king or a deuce?"
Bishop's smile disappeared. He tossed out the fifth card. It skittered across the table and stopped in the middle.
I caught my breath. It wasn't a king. And it wasn't a deuce. It wasn't even from a poker deck.
I stared at the card a full minute. On the back of a white horse sat a knight in black armor, bearing a black flag. In the card's background, a fallen king lay face-up in the dirt, his golden crown trampled beneath the horseman's feet. My gaze shifted to the horseman's face, a barren skull.
I sat very still. "The Death Card," I said. "Where'd you get it?"
Bishop didn't answer.
"It's from the Rider-Waite deck," I said.
Bishop still said nothing.
I looked up. "Where's the rest of your deck?"
He leaned back in his chair. "Where do you think?"
I studied Bishop's face. I had only one guess. "In the police evidence room?"
Bishop offered up a cold smile.
I let out a long breath. "So Conrad wasn't lying," I said. "He did burn his deck?"
"Maybe," Bishop said.
"Oh my God. You framed him?"
Bishop's voice lost any trace of warmth. "He knows what he did."
I racked my brain. Something else had been bothering me, a vague detail that had been eluding me for days. It had to do with the two thugs and something about a cousin with a drug problem.
And then it hit me. "Methyl," I said, more to myself than to him. "That's where those guns came from, those two thugs outside Edgar's house."
"Yeah?
"You planted th
eir guns in Conrad's office, along with that Tarot deck."
Bishop shrugged.
I stared at him. "You're not even going to deny it?"
"You want me to?" he asked.
I sat back in my chair. "But the police already had Conrad."
Bishop's jaw tightened. "Not for everything."
"He confessed to two murders," I said.
"He confessed to you," Bishop said. "Not to the police. One hotshot lawyer, and it's all over."
I didn't know what to say. My head was reeling. I felt like I should be angry. I searched my heart. There was no anger. What did that say about me?
Bishop reached out and picked up the Death Card. He looked up, meeting my gaze. "Seeing you lying there in that alley–" His voice choked. "–I didn't even know if you were dead or alive. I swear, if you were dead, I'd have killed him right then and there. And I wouldn't have given a fuck what happened after."
He looked so tortured that my heart went out to him. "But I wasn't dead," I said.
"That's right." He turned the card over in his hand as he spoke. "And you weren't going to die." His voice hardened. "And neither is Conrad. You wanna know why?"
I felt myself nod.
Bishop returned the Death Card to the table. He flipped it over, face down. "After what he did to you? Death is too easy."
He reached out for me, taking my hand in his. "I love you," he said. "More than life itself."
I gave his hand a squeeze. "I love you too. And I always will."
"Good to know," he said. "Because I lost you once, and I'm never gonna lose you again."
The End
Bonus Content
Teaser/Epilogue
It was two weeks after our engagement, and I was working my last fortune festival of the winter season.
Next to me, Gabriel, disguised as the Grim Reaper, was shuffling his Tarot deck, while I sifted through cards of my own as I studied the clock above the espresso machine.
At seven o'clock, we'd throw open the doors, luring hordes in from the cold with fortune telling, costume contests, and coffee specials all night long.
"Rumor has it," Gabriel said, "that your fiancé is working tonight's festival."
"Sort of," I said.
Gabriel smiled. "Telling fortunes?"
"Hardly." I cleared my throat and looked away. "He's handling security."
"Since when do we need security?" Gabriel asked.
"Hey, it wasn't my idea."
I, too, had been a little surprised at Bishop's insistence on working the event. "He'll be fine," I told Gabriel.
"Assuming it's your intention," Gabriel said, "to frighten our patrons into parting with their money."
I eyed Gabriel up and down. He wore flowing dark robes and fake black fingernails.
"You should talk," I said, standing to go set up my table.
He smirked. "There's a difference between a frightening costume and a frightening person."
I stood. "Give it a rest, will you? Bishop isn't scary."
I glanced toward the doors. Seven o'clock had arrived. Customers surged inward, bringing with them a gust of icy air.
Looking to beat the crowd, I dashed toward the book room, dimly lit with candles and Christmas lights. I found my small table and settled in for what would be a long night.
At nearby tables, my fellow fortune tellers arranged the tools of their trade, Tarot cards, crystal balls, runes, and more. I squinted at the Tarot deck in my hands. The dim light wouldn't bring the images to life, but it was important to setting the mood.
I eyed the unlit candle on my table and frowned. I dug into the hidden pockets of my long, colorful skirt for matches, but came up empty.
I stood and made my way to an antique supply chest in the corner. Careful of my cast, I flipped open the lid and dug through its contents, listening to the chatter of arriving customers. I emerged with a book of matches and another candle.
I turned around and stifled a gasp. A man, half hidden in shadows, blocked my path, a fedora pulled low over his eyes. It was Bishop, invading my space in a way I might've found offensive if he hadn't invaded it more explicitly just a few hours earlier. My toes tingled at the memory.
I took a step backward, taking in his appearance as best I could under the cover of shadows. I smiled and shook my head. Maybe Gabriel was right. Bishop was kind of scary.
"So, you decided to dress up?" I said.
He took a step closer.
"Who are you supposed to be?" I asked. "Some kind of gangster?" His hands looked pale in the candlelight. I laughed. "Maybe a dead gangster?"
Around us, customers milled from table to table. Some took seats, settling in with the fortune teller of their choosing. In front of me, Bishop took another small step, closing the distance between us.
Our bodies barely touched, and I felt a surge of adrenalin, not the good kind. Something was off. His scent? His energy? I took a step backward. "Will you say something?" I asked.
In a gesture that should have felt familiar, he reached out and wound a strand of my long, dark hair around his index finger. I recoiled, taking another step backward. With a soft thud, my shoulders bumped the wall behind me. I turned my head, and the strand of hair slipped through his fingers.
I squinted at his face, still obscured by shadows. A candle from a nearby table leapt to life. I heard my own sharp intake of breath. It wasn't Bishop. Or at least it wasn't my Bishop.
My gaze darted past him, scanning the crowd. Across the room, I saw the real Bishop, standing in the doorway, a vision of darkness – dark hair, dark eyes, and a dark expression to match. Our eyes met, and his gaze quickly moved from me to the man blocking my path.
The man spoke. "Well, if it isn't the little fortune teller."
I squinted up at him. "Jake?"
"Yeah. And I've got a question."
"What?"
"Where the hell is your sister?"
Coming in December 2014
Bad Fortunes
Former wild-child Luna Moon is in a fix. She has something too hot to handle, and she has no idea how to give it back – or if she even wants to. Jake Bishop is on her trail. To help her? To hinder her? Or to settle a score long overdue?
No matter the reason, Luna knows one thing for sure. This time, Jake Bishop has met his match, even if he's too stubborn to know it yet.
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From the Author
Thanks so much for reading. Also, thanks in advance to those special readers who take the time to leave a review. I read and appreciate every one. Romance readers truly are the best!
Other Books by Sabrina Stark
Unbelonging (Unbelonging Book 1)
Rebelonging (Unbelonging, Book 2)
Illegal Fortunes Page 40
