Clearing my throat, I looked back at Fred. “I want to know what you know about Lita Reyes’s murder.”
The table stopped all noise.
A slow, forced smile slid over Frederick’s lips. “Lita Reyes wasn’t murdered. That’s a pretty bold statement.”
“What’s bold is you saying she wasn’t.”
I had him cornered.
“Fine. But I want something from you. If you want details about something you clearly know nothing about, you’re going to have to bet something worth it. No phone calls, no autographs, no fucking charity appearances. I want something good.”
The blood drained from my face as an evil, unsettling smile curled upward on his.
“You want Lita? I want Evie.”
I shoved my chair back, jumping up. The two men beside me grabbed my arms, holding me back from launching over the table.
“What do you say? Care to place a bet? If you win, I’ll tell you everything I know about Lita Reyes’s untimely end. If I win, I want a night with your girlfriend. How confident are you in your poker skills?”
I wasn’t at all.
But I’d had a good streak.
“Just you and me.” I shrugged the men off and sat back down.
Fred offered the cards to Christian beside him and nodded. Christian took the cards and began to shuffle them to deal.
“Just you and me.”
I sat there in stony silence as the cards were dealt. I lifted my cards—nine and ten of spades. Relief tried to creep in, but I wasn’t out of the water yet. Christian flipped over a jack, queen, and king.
Holy shit. I forced myself not to react to my luck. I glanced at Fred and only saw the same irritated look on his face.
Christian flipped the next card, a two of diamonds.
And then, the fifth. An ace.
I had a flush.
I had a fucking flush.
I set my cards down and lifted my head to look at Fred. He saw my cards, and then he laughed.
He laughed.
Instantly, all confidence and hope disappeared. Fred laid his cards down, revealing his royal flush.
No. No, this couldn’t be happening.
I stood up again, my chair clattering to the floor.
The table cheered and laughed at my misfortune. What had I done? Evie—I couldn’t. Oh no.
Fred stood, straightening his suit. Reaching behind him, he removed a gun from his belt, handing it to Christian.
“Good game, Shaw. I see you didn’t expect to lose. I didn’t really expect to win, either. And for that, I’m feeling a little... compassionate. Clearly, you were just trying to help a grieving daughter. I’ll give you a choice.”
I clenched my fists, chest heaving. There were no real choices here.
