Page 39 of Vicious Souls

She sets her cards down to the side and fixes me with serious eyes. Waiting for me to say something of some significance. I’ve managed to sidestep almost all her questions with smart ass comments. The fact that she willingly wants to learn more about me, of her own volition, tingles something deep inside me until I find myself wanting to share something with her.

“What’s your question?” I ask her.

She raises her eyebrows in question, two tight slashes above her beautifully large eyes. I hold her gaze for the longest time as she seems to consider my words. She picks up her cards and reaches for another.

“No cards,” I tell her, taking her losing stack from her hand. I can give her that. I can give her a frank conversation without there being something on the line, a price to pay.

“What will you give me?” she asks, her curiosity piqued. Once a gambler, always a gambler. I already know that Moneybags is a high stakes player. She is a risk taker.

“Three questions,” I tell her. “I’ll answer three of your questions, whatever they might be.”

“In return for?” She isn’t just a good gambler. She is a great gambler. A winner. Only a great gambler remembers that nothing is ever given without something in return. She is wondering what the tradeoff would be here.

“Free of charge,” I tell her.

“Why? Why would you do that?”

I lift my shoulders in a shrug, then let them fall back into their rightful place. It feels good to offer her something she wants. To give her something of me. Something she so obviously wants.

My phone chimes with an incoming message. I lift the phone and check the message. Jacob Mills, my police informant, who never contacts me unless it’s important.

“Gables requesting meeting.

Has important information regarding your girl.”

I rereadthe message then flick my eyes toward Moneybags. She is watching me intently.Your girlcould only mean one thing. There is no other girl in my life. Gables has found out something – enough to know that it involves a girl, because it obviously isn’t something I’ve given him. I can’t let something like this go without taking further action. I have to go and pay him another visit and find out what he’s learnt in regard to Moneybags.

“I have to go.”

I get up from my place on the bed and straighten, looking down at her questioning gaze. I don’t want to leave her. Without saying a word, the look on her face tells me she feels the same. She doesn’t want me to leave any more than I want to leave her.

At some point, something in our dynamic has shifted and we have started caring for one another. Maybe just a little bit. But the feeling is there nonetheless, and it’s mutual.

“What is it?”

I shake my head. This is one question I’m not ready to answer. There is no telling what Lucas Gables will tell me. The leader of the Savages must be so afraid of the fallout that will follow a betrayal against us that he persisted in finding out anything that could help me put his dogs to sleep. Obviously, whatever he has to tell me must be important enough for him to reach out to Jacob. Even after I’d told him I would handle the situation and make his own problems disappear, he’d been fearful enough that he’d become proactive and done some digging himself.

“Don’t waste your three questions. Think of what you really want to know; I’ll give you free rein when I get back.”

35

DANTE

In times of war, one has to prepare for every possible outcome. For that’s where we are at. War.

The recent events that have come to pass since Moneybags has come into my life, whilst not altogether unprecedented, have a way of reminding us that after every relative era of peace, there will undoubtedly come a period of conflict and strife. Lucas Gables has much to lose owing to his henchmen’s attack on a Mafia family. He will do anything to find a way out of this mess without compromising his club, but that doesn’t put him beyond reproach. We have no idea what information he has for us – it could be everything yet it could also very well be nothing. But we have to know, and having gained no viable leads as to the whereabouts of his defectors, there is every chance we are walking into a trap. I won’t take any chances with my men.

I wear my fatigues and strap my gun holsters in place across my chest, walking briskly through the wide hallway and down the stairs toward the front door, flanked by my soldiers. I stop short before I reach the door when I spy Moneybags in the lobby, standing quietly to the side, almost buried in the shadows. She has somehow dragged herself out of bed and down the stairs, even in her frail condition. As though shefeelsmy danger. As though the very thought of me leaving causes her immense pain. She is rocking on the balls of her feet, anxiety oozing out of every pore of her body.

Her eyes pass over my body, covering the length of my frame slowly as the realization of my mission hits her. She emits a gasp, a silent scream lodged in her throat as she looks around the room frantically. I lift my chin and cock my head toward my men, telling them to wait outside.

“You shouldn’t have left your bed.” I lift her chin until her eyes meet mine and she is looking at me, fear coating her expression. Her eyes fall to my chest where two guns are strapped to my body, a tremor quaking through her body, the enormity of my life weighing on her. No matter that her father had belonged to this life, she has probably never been as close to crazy as she is in my company.

“Will you come back?” Her soft voice filters through my veins. When what she really means is, “Come back to me.”

“I have to come back to answer your questions,” I tell her. “I never make promises I can’t keep.”

Without thought, my hand moves to her hair, brushing back a strand behind her ears. Something deep inside me is fraying, like a string unspooling, unfolding as it blooms into something rich and intoxicating. I take a step toward her, using the same hand to wrap around her neck, bringing her face toward me. I touch my lips to her forehead, my skin against hers for several beats, a final farewell, before I move away and head for the door.

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