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DOYLE

“I don’t knowabout you, but I prefer fuckin’ to fightin’,” Otto said, shoving Doyle aside.

“I’ll bet you can’t beat me at a game of poker!” Doyle yelled, desperate to get him away from Lacey.

Otto turned, slow and deliberate, to face him.

“Everyone can play. Winner take all.” Doyle searched each man’s face, smiling and shaking his head in what he hoped was an encouraging rather than insane manner.

At least he’d managed to get their attention.

Amos chuckled. “All what? You got nothin’ to offer we weren’t already takin’, last I checked, Wally.”

Doyle swallowed hard. “Sure I do. I know this place better than any of you. I’ll get you the most valuable stuff around here. Stuff you wouldn’t find without my help.”

“And why should we believe you?” Amos asked as they all stepped closer, surrounding him in a circle.

“Because I want this to be over. This is a dangerous game you’re playing, and you know it. There is so much here you don’t know shit about. Let me demonstrate.”

Doyle reached for the remote on the coffee table, and every man drew his gun, stopping him. He slowed down to a crawl and gingerly held the object away from his body. “Here, you take it.” He handed it to Amos.

Amos took the small black object and turned it around in his hands. “Looks like it don’t do shit.”

“Exactly what you’d think about half of this stuff. But push the top button.” Doyle nodded encouragingly and Amos did as he was told.

The holoscreen burst to life. A classic western came on in three-dimensional glory with men on horses, shooting at each other as they galloped forward. All five men ducked for cover behind the couch and table, gun barrels poking out above and around.

“It’s not real,” Doyle said, left standing alone. “Look.” He reached a hand through the image, which wobbled and reformed as he pulled his arm back.

Slowly, the other men rose and holstered their weapons, staring wide-eyed at the holoscreen.

“And that’s just an example,” Doyle said, relaxing slightly.

“And you’re willing to play poker for that?” Amos asked, indicating the Vid now displaying a train with steam gushing from its top. “Winner take all?”

Doyle nodded.

Amos started laughing and the others joined in. “How about I won’t shoot you if you cooperate instead?” he asked.

“Just let Lacey go,” Doyle whispered, moving in to speak as privately as possible with Amos. “You’re supposed to be a sheriff. Aren’t you sworn to protect? Look at her, she’s scared out of her wits. Otto’s a loose cannon, and you know it.”

Amos stroked his chin and considered the pale woman on the couch.

“You’re right,” he said at last. “You, young filly over there.”

“Lacey,” Doyle said when she seemed confused.

“Lacey.” Amos nodded. “Go on and git out of here. I reckon this ain’t no place for a lady.”

Lacey rose, head held high despite her shaking, as she glanced between Doyle and Amos.

Then she walked past them and slipped out the door, letting it whoosh shut behind her.

Doyle’s shoulders fell in relief until Amos’s grip told him he wasn’t so lucky.

“Why don’t we start with you showing us the rest of what’s all in this room?”

The kitchen and all its gadgets bought Doyle a good half hour as he demonstrated how to make food and coffee nearly instantly and fed the bunch of them some beef bourguignon and caffeine. He wondered what Sadie and Jackson were doing taking so long, and at the same time hoped she’d stay away. He didn’t trust any of these men, especially Otto.