Prologue #3
“Yes. She ran from me too.” McKennon clears his throat, bringing me back to our conversation. “But let’s just say… my Laoise has reason to think running is the safest option.”
Heavy guilt drips from every word, making his voice so thick it sounds like he’s choking on it. The answer doesn’t seem like much, but it’s more than he’s ever given.
I hum. “Finally ready to share our feelings, McKennon? My, my, you must be desperate to get on my good side after all.”
“Fuck you. Of course I’m desperate to find my daughter,” he hisses. “It’s why I gave in and assigned you that Joker card in your hands.”
The nonsequitur takes me a moment to realize I’ve been fiddling around with the McKennon Casino playing card I always keep in my pocket.
I found it in a motel in Asheville, North Carolina, not too far from home—the Joker with its macabre skull in a top hat and the McKennon logo on the back.
I’d already come across the cards that symbolized her parents, but third time was the charm, making me realize she was leaving the cards for a purpose.
I went straight to her father and demanded to know what the fuck was going on. Of course, being the prick that he is, the King of Las Vegas made me play him for the information, thinking he could beat me.
But I’m not above playing dirty, and with cigars burning and absinthe flowing for the other players, a well-timed fiery distraction made smuggling a few extra cards easy to swing.
By the time Kian discovered I’d bent the rules, I’d already raced outta there like a bat outta hell with the card he’d reluctantly named me. The Joker.
My eyes narrow at the card now. Then my gaze flicks to my phone, ensuring this isn’t a video call. But only McKennon’s caller ID photo stares back at me. Or rather, I stare back at me.
I get a kick out of setting caller ID photos to weird shit. For example, Orion’s is a blown-up picture of his fiancée’s sick tattoo. I’m not interested her in the slightest, but having her picture on my phone at all irritates the fire out of Orion, and that brings me limitless joy.
The circumstances of Kian McKennon’s caller ID photo still makes me angry.
It’s a pic of me flipping off the Ace of Hearts card I found in Lucy’s home in New Orleans, “I’m sorry” scrawled on the back in her loopy handwriting.
That picture was the first message I sent Kian to express how profoundly pissed off I was that he lost her.
Me flipping off the card flashes on my phone now, confirming we’re on audio and he shouldn’t be able to see me toying with the card. I frown around the cigarette still between my lips.
“You a witch, McKennon?”
He huffs wryly. “I run the gambling capital of the world, Fury. I know what anxious fidgeting with playing cards sound like.” Then he murmurs solemnly, “I hope you understand how important that card is.”
My jaw ticks. “Of course, I fucking understand. It’s why I played for it in the first place. So don’t give me that ‘gave in’ bullshit. You didn’t ‘give in’—I won.”
This card is a sign to everyone in the McKennons’ orbit that I have a place among them. But, most importantly, it’ll be a sign to their Queen of Hearts that I’m on her side. If I have to play the card at all, that is. Hopefully I don’t, because I really don’t fucking want to.
“Fine,” he grinds out, and the next words come in a pained plea. “But we’re out of chances, Hatton. She only has one card left. If she leaves the Queen of Hearts behind, it’ll be like leaving her legacy behind. If she does that and is still too afraid to come home—”
“I know,” I snap.
I’ve had nightmares about finding that damn card.
We figure she’s leaving them to prove she’s safe, but I also have another theory.
I don’t dare say it out loud, though. Because if I’m right, then I’ve failed her fifty-fucking-two times.
I can’t fail her again. With Lucy this good at hiding, if she stops leaving tart-crumbs and playing cards, I could lose her forever.
“She needs to be safe,” McKennon insists. “If you’d just tell me—”
“No,” I say firmly. “I’m the Joker in your fucked up card game, and I won the right to protect my Queen of Hearts however I see fit.
Which means I’m not telling you shit about where she is.
You’ll sic the Troisgarde’s army on her, scaring her off again.
Or worse, your slow, clunky mobilization could tip off the Wildes.
The fewer people that know her whereabouts the safer she is.
She’s done really fucking well on her own this far, and now I finally have eyes on her.
But what I need you to get through your thick, stubborn skull, is that whatever it is that makes your daughter a runner—whatever it is that you’re hiding from me—it means she doesn’t trust you to keep her safe.
And we already know I sure as fuck don’t trust you either. ”
“How dare you, you son of a—”
“You know it’s true,” I snap. But then my voice gentles. “She doesn’t know what I look like. She won’t run from me.”
It’s important I stay under the radar for the Furys, so Dash made sure there’s not a single picture of us as adults online. The one and only time I ever saw Lucy in person was at a party six months ago, and I had a mask on.
“Are you going to reveal yourself then?” Kian asks, voice hard.
“If I have to,” I lie—even if I make myself known, I have zero intention of telling her who I am. If she finds out I’m a Fury, she may take one look at my Joker card and flee anyway. “Regardless, a bargain’s a bargain, McKennon. I’m the one who found her. I’ll be the one to keep her safe.”
He curses something Irish under his breath, then his voice is lethally low. “Make sure you don’t forget the rest of the bargain.”
My chest pangs, but I know what I gave up will be worth it in the end.
Every Fury knows when they’ve found their “peace,” but I never wanted any part of that bullshit.
When I had to distract Lucy the night my brother kidnapped his fiancée, I was determined not to fall prey to it.
Losing her proved to me that I already had.
I’ve felt that pain every day since… and I’ll feel it every day until I die.
But that’s the price I’m willing to pay to keep her safe.
I return my cigarette behind my ear and exhale, feeling the familiar pull of scar tissue across my back with the heavy breath.
“Like I said, a bargain’s a bargain. And Furys keep our promises.”
The words… sting. But with the fucked up shit my family has caused, feeling this pain is the least I can do. Our women may be our peace, but all we bring them is misery, pain, and death.
Fuck, I can never forget the death. Death I caused. I won’t let it happen again.
“Good,” Kian agrees.
Oblivious to our sparring, the object of our truce finishes sucking her fingers in that way that makes my cock jolt.
Despite having just finished dessert, Lucy gives the darkened bakery window a wistful smile, like she’s counting the seconds until she can get another tart.
My lips tug up, pulling at the few barely-there ember scars under my jawline.
“If it’s any consolation, McKennon… she looks happy.”
The quietest of meows is my only warning before a fluffy orange princess hops into my lap. My sneeze builds damn-near instantaneously, and I barely slam my finger over the mute button in time to keep from deafening McKennon on the other side of the phone.
A quiet moan of relief escapes me. Jesus, who needs sex when you can sneeze?
My head grows fuzzy from the violence of it, and I slouch into my chair from exhaustion, idly petting Dinah.
The meds do wonders to alleviate the symptoms, but this up close to the adorable little minx, it’s almost no use.
If I didn’t have them, her favorite sleeping position—right on top of my head—would’ve killed me a hundred times over by now.
She’s been my constant companion since she pounced on me in a fit of grateful yowling when I broke into Lucy’s home in New Orleans. She purrs away now, completely unaware of how miraculous it is that her dander hasn’t killed me yet. Thank fuck for experimental drugs.
Lucy’s hand drags over the bakery window’s glass as she continues her walk, gazing back longingly until she clears the building.
“She’s happy?” The lilt in Kian’s slight Irish accent strikes a chord against my cold, brittle heartstrings. His following exhale fills the room with a crackle through the speaker. “Make sure she stays that way, will you?”
“Of course. I’ll do everything I… can…”
My eyes slowly widen, and I sit up straight. Dinah grumbles and leaps off my lap. But I can’t take time to console her, because what in the actual hell is Dinah’s shy, anxious, introvert momma doing pausing outside that particular establishment?
Lucy pulls her ponytail out of its tie, spilling her strawberry-blond hair over her shoulders, and fluffs the curls.
Kian drones on, but I bring the phone up to my lips in a trance.
“Gotta go, McKennon.”
“…send me regular upda—wait. Fury? Fury, don’t you fecking hang up on me ag—”
I press the “End Call” button as I murmur to the mystery in front of me.
“I know that’s not what I think it is.”
Having already forgiven me, Dinah winds between my legs, meowing until I scratch her ears.
“Mhm, I wholeheartedly agree.” My eyes don’t leave the screen as I give her one final pat, then grab my jacket off the back of my chair and stand. “It’s time to find out what your mommy’s been up to.”
Because to my absolute shock, my scared little bunny just dove into The Rabbit Hole.