Page 19 of Vicious Souls

“Oh, I have a choice?” she asks. I ignore her sarcasm and continue.

“If you choose not to answer the question, you pick another card and add it to your reserve. The point is to finish first with no points in your reserve.”

“Pretty straightforward,” she murmurs.

“You would think,” I reply. “It’s only ever as straightforward as the lies that people tell.”

Moneybags fixes me with a glacial stare then bites her lip, obviously wondering how far her lies can take her in this game.

“What are the stakes?” she asks.

“We play for seven days. IF after seven days, you have less cards than I do, I’ll let you go.” Her breath catches and I can hear her heart stutter. She realizes that’s a pretty high stake at the same time that she probably realizes there’s no way she will win this game unless she answers all my questions.

“And if I have more cards than you?” she asks, her chin lifting in defiance. Telling me she can take whatever I throw her way. Little does she know.

Moneybags is not the only poker player in the room. I can give just as good as she can. And I will. I fix her with my iciest neutral expression, hold it for a few seconds, then give her a devilish smile.

“Then you die.”

18

KINGSLEY

The bastard.

The fucking bastard.

He knows there’s no way I’ll back out of a game, especially when the stakes are so high. And this is my only chance at freedom. I believe him when he says he’ll let me go. And now, looking at the hard lines of his face, I also believe that he will kill me if I lose to him. Yes, he definitely has it in him to kill me. I just haven’t yet figured out what he wants from me. This puts me at a great disadvantage.

“Deal,” I say, in between clenched teeth, knowing there really is no other option but to take him up on his offer. My freedom, my life, hinges solely on me winning this game. Otherwise, I may as well have signed my very own death certificate.

“Take a card,” he orders.

“You go first.”

“Ladies first. I insist,” and he shoots me another grin, irritating the hell out of me. It brings him great joy to watch my annoyance as I squirm uncomfortably in my chair.

We lay our cards down face up on the table. He scores an Ace and I pick up a 2. He rubs his hands together in delight, if only to aggravate me more, and I scowl, folding one leg up under my thigh as I try to get comfortable.

“This table’s a little tight,” he tells me. “Do you want me to get a bigger one?”

“It’s a card table,” I reply blandly.

“Yes, but you’ll need the room for all your reserves.”

I’m sure my expression is just as murderous as I feel as I turn his way, then throw my card on the discard pile. “Ask your question, killer.” I'm going to make this as uncomfortable for him as it is for me. Well, I can try.

“What’s your favorite color?”

I’m taken aback at his first question, wondering why he would waste a question on such an inconsequential matter. I can’t get a read on what’s in his head… the strategy he has mapped out to break me. But I know he has every intention to demolish me before the game is over.

“This isn’t a date,” I remind him, my snide remark followed by a smirk. I tell him my favorite color is green. I watch as he files away that answer, no doubt to use it against me at a later date. He pulls a second card. I pick one also, then lay it down face up next to his, looking pleased with myself. This is purely a game of chance.

A Jack for me, and a seven for him.

“How many siblings do you have?” Now, I’m the one surprising him. There is probably nothing I can possibly do with this sort of information, but I’d be interested to know how many assholes he’s related to.

“I’m an only child.”

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