“Not until you agree.”
King’s dark eyes swept over him as he reached into the pocket of his suit jacket.
Jake stiffened, ready to defend himself if King was reaching for the little derringer he carried. He let out his breath in a rush when he saw it wasn’t a pistol, but a cigar.
King took his time lighting it. A stall tactic? Or one meant to ratchet up the tension? Definitely the latter, just one more trick in King’s arsenal of intimidation.
“Fine. One game and Lucy goes free,” he said finally, and gestured to the chair with the cigar. “Now sit. Cut the cards.” He drew in on the cigar and blew out a stream of smoke. “You better not lose on purpose, Hannigan.”
Jake said nothing as he slid into his seat and reached for the deck of cards on the table. He cut them like he was told then pushed the deck toward King. “You deal.”
King shuffled the cards one more time then quickly dealt them, a smug smile parting his lips around the cigar.
Jake picked up the cards one at a time and stifled the groan building in his throat. Perspiration made his shirt stick to his back, and he felt the tickle of sweat as it rolled down his face. At any other time, he would have rejoiced at the cards in his hand, but not now. What were the odds that he would be holding a Royal Flush again, all hearts, the same hand as he had when he won from King the first time? It defied logic and surely meant his death. King wouldn’t hesitate to claim he cheated. Hell, King wouldn’t hesitate to kill him, and if he didn’t, Oscar might.
He glanced across the table and studied King’s face, which seemed a little red as he looked at the cards in his hand. If his expression was any indication, he wasn’t happy with what he held. He moved the cigar from one side of his mouth to the other and stared at Jake with an intensity worthy of Teddy. “Place your bet.”
Jake pushed the valise toward the middle of the table. “All or nothing.”
King shook his head. “That’s not how it’s done, Hannigan.”
“It is this time. You agreed. One game and Lucy goes free.”
The man took a deep drag on his cigar, then blew out a plume of smoke. He wasn’t happy, but that was all right. Jake wasn’t here to make him happy. He was here to free Lucy and get out of this alive.
“Show me your cards,” King ordered after a moment.
Jake held the cards to his chest then slowly laid the cards on the table and spread them out. The Queen of Hearts seemed to stare right at him.
“You son of a bitch!” King spit out as he looked at the cards, the cigar falling from his mouth to land on the table. If possible, his face turned even redder and his eyes opened wider. “How the hell did you do that?” He jumped up from his seat and reached into his suit jacket pocket, withdrawing the little derringer he always carried. “You…you cheated,” he stammered. “There’s no way in hell you could have won again with the same damned hand!”
There were two guns pointed at him now—King’s little derringer and Oscar’s Colt.
“Stand up!” King ordered. “I warned you against cheating.”
Jake rose from his seat slowly, his hands hanging down by his side, eyeing his opponent and the gun in his hand. He’d get out of this situation. He had to. For Evie. And the future he wanted.Thatwas worth fighting for.Shewas worth fighting for.
His mind worked quickly, planning his strategy, waiting for the opportunity to disarm King. All it would take is one well-aimed punch. Just one and he could walk away.
Or should he take down Oscar first? The man was sweating, his dark eyes darting back and forth, the hand holding the gun shaking. “How could I cheat?Youdealt the cards.”
“No one beats Erik King like that. No one!” Spittle sprayed from King’s lips and the little gun in his hand wavered as he gestured.
Jake stood absolutely still, though it took every ounce of his determination. One false move and King could shoot before he had a chance to knock the man on his ass.
“Who are you anyway? A nobody!” Beads of sweat rolled down King’s face and his eyes narrowed. “A fucking orphan! No one will miss you when you’re gone.” He gasped for air and seemed to struggle doing so.
Maybe King would give himself a heart attack. He certainly appeared to be working up toward one.
“No one will care whether you live or die!” The derringer shook in the man’s hand as it wavered toward him once again. “I am Erik King!” he all but screamed, then got control of his weapon and pointed it straight at Jake’s. “No one does this to Erik King and lives to tell the tale! No one!”
The loud report of the gunshot followed closely by another echoed in the room, making Jake jump. He felt no pain, which was odd. He glanced down at his chest, but no blood blossomed on his shirt. Stunned and confused, he looked up. Neither King nor Oscar were standing. Both were sprawled on the floor. King had a perfect round hole in his forehead and the blood Jake had expected to flow from his own chest flowed from Oscar’s instead.
He turned quickly as Esteban joined him, smoke still coming from the barrels of the guns in his hands.
“What did you do?”
Esteban shrugged as he holstered his guns. “He talked too much. I had enough.” He inspected his handiwork. “I don’t enjoy killing, Jake. It’s not something I go out of my way to do, but in this case, they both had it coming. Besides, King wasn’t going to let you walk out of here. Saw that much for myself. Neither was Oscar. One of these days, you’ll have to tell me what happened between you and him.”
