“I think it might be,” Travis says as he finishes the last of his drink like a good little idiot. The smirk on his face grows deeper as he realizes I’m an easy lay tonight.
What he doesn’t know will kill him.
I laugh softly. “I’ve got a quieter place. Two blocks away. My tarot shop. Ever had your future read?”
His laugh is rough, grating. “Not really my thing. But if you’re the one reading me…” His eyes drop to my cleavage.
My hand brushes his, deliberate, pulling him toward the door. “Then let’s see what fate has in store.”
His grip on my hand is unnervingly tight as we walk through the club. He thinks he’s the one in charge tonight, but Iris’s little concoction is working to my advantage by the second.
Outside, the Strip’s glow cuts the night into neon. Travis stumbles once, catching himself on my shoulder, and I let him. We pass the costumed chaos—drunk witches, drunk pirates, drunk everything you could imagine.
When my shop comes into view, its neon card sign glowing brilliantly, he chuckles. “This is where the magic happens?”
I push the door open, let incense waft out like a spell. “Oh, it’s magic, all right.”
He follows.
He has no idea.
The shop door closes behind us with a soft click. I lead the way, and feel his eyes on my ass as I head into the back room. Typical.
The air back here is different—heavier. Incense clings to the tapestries I have tacked to the walls, to the wood floor, to the bones of the place. It’s my sanctuary, my altar, my hunting ground. And tonight, it’s his coffin.
“Sit,” I purr, pointing to the chair across from mine.
He chuckles as he drops into it, leaning back like he owns the room. “You can tell my future with those cards, Kitty?”
“Yes.” I smooth my hands across the bare tabletop. Typically, when I read a client’s cards, it’s covered with a tablecloth. But tonight isn’t a night for velvet. Tonight, the dark-stained oak gleams faintly under the dim light. It looks ordinary. But this wood has drunk more confessions than a priest.
He doesn’t notice the faint grooves where steel has punctured before.
I grab the deck of cards from the center of the table and begin shuffling them. The cards whisper against each other like gossip. My pulse is steady.
This part always feels holy.
“Let’s see what fate has to say about you.”
One by one, the cards jump from the deck as I shuffle.
An upside-down crown stares up at us. “The King of Swords reversed,” I say, my voice like smoke and honey. “This card tells us of cruel logic. Of a man who twists words until they ruin someone. It tells us there’s an abuse of power.”
My eyes rise to meet Travis’ and I see it as his expression sobers.
But I pull the next card before he can speak.
“The Eight of Swords,” I continue his reading. The card is a woman bound, blindfolded, surrounded by blades. “Hmm, trapped, restricted, powerless.”
“Can’t say I’ve ever felt like that,” he says smugly, rebounding from the first card.
“Oh, this one isn’t about you,” I say smoothly. “But just so you know, chains don’t care who they bind.”
“What—” he begins to ask, but I move right past his questioning.
Justice, upright. “Of course,” I say. “You had to know it would eventually come for you.”
He snorts. “I deliver justice every day. This is all cute. Real spooky.”
