Page 49 of Amber Gambler

“I would like that,” Kierce said with only slightly more enthusiasm than he embraced using a pillow.

A horse was more his speed, but they were expensive and required more land than we had to spare.

“Go dress.” I shooed Matty out the door. “I’ll change and meet you at the wagon.” After Matty left, and I started preparing for the day, I snagged on another issue. “How long do you think you’ll be here?”

“I can leave now if I’m an imposition.” He rose without hesitation. “I don’t want to burden you.”

“No.” I gripped his wrist. “It’s not that.” I plucked at his loaner tee. “We’ll need to buy you some things.”

“Oh.” He glanced down at his pajamas then scrunched his bare toes on the hardwood. “Yes.”

His confusion over requiring fresh clothes made me even more curious about his life in Abaddon.

“You can ride with us.” I patted his chest. “I’ll pick up Pedro, drop him off, and then we’ll go shopping.”

“With money.” His expression cleared as he hit on a familiar concept. “I have money.”

“Good deal.” I slipped into the bathroom. “Be right back.”

Standing where I left him, he stared at me. “I’ll be here.”

My heart lurched at the sincerity in his tone. As if the sands of time could scour me away to nothing, but he would remain.Eternal. A shiver lifted the fine hairs down my arms as I shut the door between us.

One of my favorite things about Bonaventure were the endless secrets she kept. Over the years, she had slowly been revealing them to me, and I cherished every new discovery as a priceless gift. However, the old girl hadn’t mentioned the tiny detail that she was a vault in more than one sense.

For the dead…

…and for Kierce.

I had expected him to produce a few wrinkly bills from his dirty pants pocket. I didnotexpect him to lead me to a crooked live oak with Spanish moss dripping from its twisting limbs. And I definitely hadn’t anticipated the lockbox hidden behind a glamour he brushed aside the way I cleared away cobwebs.

“How much do I need?” He studied the contents of his stash. “I haven’t bought clothes in…a long time.”

The entire tree was hollowed out and stuffed to the brim with stacks of cash, gold, jewelry, and coins.

The old oak was dead. Lightning struck. Glamour only loaned it the appearance of life.

“It depends.” I swallowed to wet my throat but choked on the dryness. “How fancy do you want to go?”

A trip to Savannah could get him everything he wanted if his usual appearance was his preferred style.

“I would like jeans,” he announced with no small amount of pride. “And T-shirts.”

“You’re sure you don’t want clothes like you’ve been wearing?”

Denim was a huge downgrade from his designer slacks and button-down dress shirts.

“Those clothes were chosen for me.” A crease marred his brow. “I would like something different.”

Once again, a mental picture of his cage—acage—poked at me, but I tucked it away to revisit later.

“Sure.” I reached into his cubby and withdrew a single stack of tens. “We’ll put this in my purse, okay?”

A bank strap bound one hundred notes of a single denomination, so this gave him a grand to spend.

“I trust you.” He watched me tuck it away. “Do I owe you anything for room and board?”

“No.” I huffed a startled laugh. “You don’t owe me anything.”

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