Chapter 9 #2
I don’t like how easily he can read me, but I ask it anyway. “What’s the point in playing a game where you don’t need to tell the truth?”
The sound of his masculine laugh has a weird way of making my heart pick up a notch, and I push away the butterflies that swarm my insides when I realize I might like the sound.
Focus, Ace! I yell at myself.
Inching closer, he answers, “What’s the point of poker without a solid bluff?
And you didn’t let me finish. The object of the game is to see how well you can read me.
If you call me out for lying, then I have another chance to tell you the truth.
But,” —he lifts his finger— “if you accuse me of lying when I’m telling the truth, then you aren’t allowed to ask me any more questions. Understand?”
I nod.
“Perfect. We each get to take turns asking each other questions until we both lose, or I decide I’m done playing.”
Sensing my agitation, he gently lifts my chin with his forefinger, forcing me to look up at him. “My game. My rules, sweetheart.”
My teeth dig into my lower lip as I watch him get distracted by the throbbing bruise on my cheekbone. Clenching his jaw, he softly drags his fingers down my sensitive skin, making my eyelids flutter for a split second. “Does it hurt?”
“Is that your question?” I bite out.
With a smoldering look, he volleys, “I suppose it is.”
“Then, no.”
His mesmerizing green eyes flare with amusement before shifting back to my swollen cheek. “Lie,” he murmurs. “Give me the truth.”
“Why would you ask a question when you already know the answer? Of course, it hurts. I just got backhanded by a damn gorilla. What’s your name?”
“Kingston.”
Searching his face, I mutter, “Truth,” calling it like it is.
He nods his approval before taking his turn. “How long have you been counting cards?”
“Professionally?”
“And recreationally,” he clarifies.
“Not long.”
“Lie.”
I grit my teeth. “As soon as I could afford a fake I.D.”
“Which is…?”
“Six years. Why did you bring me down here? This isn’t exactly normal behavior for a casino.” I leave out even for one run by the mob.
He drops his hand from my face to his side but doesn’t step back. “Maybe this is normal casino behavior for the Charlette.”
“Lie.” My voice is absolute, brooking no argument.
Kingston grins before adding, “I’ve been looking for someone to help me with something, and you fit the bill.”
“And what bill is that?”
Tapping his tongue against the roof of his mouth, he tsks me. “Uh-uh, sweetheart. My turn. How often do you count at other casinos?”
“Often enough.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Depends on how badly I need money.”
He tilts his head as he inspects me, making me feel like I’m beneath a microscope with the intensity of his gaze.
“Half-lie. You like counting. You might play more often when you need a little extra cash, but there’s more to it than that.
You like taking the power from the casinos who swindle innocent gamblers on a daily basis. Am I right?”
“Not your turn, sweetheart,” I mimic his condescending tone from moments before.
With a laugh, he lifts his hand to silently offer me the floor. “My apologies.”
I circle back to my question from a second ago. “What makes me a good candidate for whatever you need?”
Scrutinizing me, he answers, “You’re a pretty little advantage player. Did you know that?”
What the hell? First, he used the term advantage player, which refers to a person who uses legal methods to gain an advantage while gambling, such as counting cards, but it can also be attributed to poker. No one knows I play poker. No one.
And second, he called me pretty. The word does weird things to my insides, making them turn to Jell-O in the blink of an eye.
Subtly, I shake my head once in an attempt to focus and zero in on his face.
His mouth. His eyes. His chiseled jaw. I’m looking for a twitch.
An itch. A flicker of something that tells me he’s lying.
“That’s a non-answer,” I accuse.
He furrows his brows. “Excuse me?”
“It isn’t exactly a lie, but it isn’t really the answer to my question. You’re not playing by the rules, Kingston.”
Throwing his head back, he laughs. Hard.
Apparently, Kingston must find me pretty amusing because, for a guy so cold, he does that a lot around me.
“I like playing this game with you. Fine. I need someone to be a set of eyes and ears for me. Someone who can go where I can’t.
Someone who can fly under the radar.” He motions to me with his hand.
“You fit the bill. Why do you like sticking it to the casinos so much?”
An image of my mom flashes before my eyes. “I won’t answer that. Pick another question.”
“Fine,” he relents. “How often do you visit Sin?”
“Not enough, yet far too often.”
With a heavy silence hanging in the air, he inspects me. “Truth. And I know it’s not my turn, but would you mind expanding on that since I was a gentleman and chose another question?”
A smile tugs at the corner of my lips before my face pulses in pain, reminding me that I’m definitely not here by choice. “Sin’s rules are pretty shitty, but their dealers are sloppy, and their pit boss is pretty oblivious.”
“And what about Burlone?” he presses.
“Excuse me?” The name alone is enough to make my palms sweat.
“Well, with your history….”
My tone is defensive when I ask, “What do you mean my history?”
“Lie. You know what I’m talking about, and I need you to answer the question right now. What do you think about Burlone?”
Running my fingers through my long, dark hair, I tug at the roots before tucking the strands behind my ears. “It’s not your turn.”
“Answer the question, Ace.”
“But it’s not your turn,” I repeat.
“Answer the fucking question,” he growls with an icy cold stare.
Digging my teeth into my lower lip, I search for a way out of this. Out of this situation. Out of this room. Out of this whole freaking conversation. Everything.
“Now!” His tone is sharp, making me jump.
It’s just enough to snap me out of my panic attack. I tell him the truth, spewing my disdain like word vomit across the basement floor. “I hate Burlone with every fiber of my being, and I would do anything to see him buried in the ground.”
The silence hangs heavy in the room, and I just pray to whoever might be listening that Kingston isn’t friendly with Burlone. Because if he is, I might’ve just dug my own grave by admitting my hatred for the man who ruined my life.
“Truth.” The word is nothing but a whisper as it leaves Kingston’s mouth before he divulges a piece of honesty I haven’t asked for. “Burlone is trying to frame my family for something. All I need you to do is frequent Sin for the next few days and see if you hear anything.”
“Hear anything? Like what?” My chin dips to the toe of my shoe as I drag it against the linoleum floor and wait for him to answer.
“I need a time. A day. I know the what and where. I’m looking for the when.”
The conversation I overheard a few nights ago buzzes in the back of my mind, tugging at my memory. Looking up at Kingston, I ask, “And what if I already know it?”
He locks down any expression from his face, leaving it nothing but a clean slate. “And how would you already know it?”
“I was there the other night. I overheard him talking to two men.” I close my eyes and try to remember what they looked like.
“One had a small diamond tattoo on the side of his face. He had long, greasy hair that he slicked back, and his teeth were stained yellow. The other one was cleaner cut with a giant X tattooed on his forearm. I might even call the guy good-looking if I didn’t know who he was acquainted with.
” Opening my eyes, I find Kingston’s attention glued to me.
I clear my throat and continue describing Burlone’s guy.
“He seemed smarter than the others. He kept looking around the room, practically begging them to shut up until they got somewhere private.”
“What were they talking about?” Kingston probes.
“Burlone mentioned something about a tournament and having a solid alibi. It sounded like something was going down that night, and he’d be safe from the repercussions of whatever it was because he’d be at the casino with a ton of witnesses.”
Kingston’s expression remains indifferent, though I know I’ve just given him whatever he’s looking for.
“Am I free to go?”
With a shake of his head, my feet remain glued to their spot on the concrete floor.
“Did they see you listening?”
I shrug before looking around the room and searching my memory. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
His expression is blank as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a business card. “I need you to memorize this number then throw it away. If you hear anything else, call me.”
I take the piece of paper and attempt to focus on the jumbled numbers.
“That’s it?” I ask, feeling confused. I’m missing something, but I can’t quite put my finger on what it is.
Something about the way he asked did they see you listening, irks me.
What if they did see me listening? Am I in trouble?
Should I even be here? It’s obvious I stepped into something that I shouldn’t have, but am I going to be okay?
“Ace.” My head snaps up at the sound of his thick voice. “I’ll be in touch.”
He goes to take a step toward the door, but I interrupt his departure, feeling the unfamiliar need to keep him close.
“Wait!” I call out, shocking the hell out of both of us.
He glances over his shoulder. “Yeah?”
“What did I step into?”
Scrubbing his hand over his face, he releases a heavy sigh that tells me more than any words he could possibly say right now. “Something an innocent girl like you should know nothing about.”
“That’s not an answer.” I fight the panic that threatens to spill over.
With a forced smile, he murmurs, “My game. My rules.”
I drop my eyes back to my feet as I hear his footsteps echo in the tiny box of a room as he retreats.