Page 41 of Queen Of WildCards

Itook the seat across from her on the couch and frowned, hands in my lap. "You'renot dumb."

Sheset her chin atop her knees, those strange little square patterns where her flesh peeked out drawing my eyes and keeping them there, transfixed.Ina matter of a few minutes, with nothing more than a look and some exposed flesh,Iwas . . . curious.Iwasn't immediately searching for a way to shorten this interaction.

Iwanted her to talk to me.

Notbecause it was easy, but perhaps because like this, with her knees up and all the walls in place, she reminded me of myself, in a way.Backwhen living hadn't been just about surviving.

Anda part of me was still curious how that felt.

"I'mnot as smart asI'dlike to thinkIam," she hedged, clearly uncomfortable with the assumption. "Imean, does a smart girl usually get kidnapped by the mafia?Doesshe let her father use her as a 'get out of jail free' card?"Herhands raked through those long brown tresses as a heavy sigh escaped her lips.Irecognized the tactics for what they were, my heart hardening a little.

Makeyour kidnappers see you as a person.Humanizeyourself.

"Thoseare not metrics by which intelligence can be measured,"Ipointed out, to my own confusion and irritation.

"Oh, so you're the number cruncher."Hergaze flicked to me momentarily, and she absently twirled a chunk of hair around one finger. "Tellme, big guy, what are the oddsIget out of this alive?"

Iknew she was looking for a solid answer, something to allay her fears, butIcouldn't give her that, andIcouldn't give her false hope. "Fifty-fifty."

Hersoft lips turned to a pout, andIregretted putting them there, even if it was just the truthIgave her. "Well, that sucks."

Ishrugged, my allotted words gone for the day.Ithad been a while, maybe even years, sinceI'dspoken so much, and ever since the good doctor slid into our lives,Iwas like a whole different person.

Irefused to believe she was the cause.Thecomplexity of the situation just dictated a shift in action.WhenAcedecided she'd be better off dead, that would be that, and we'd all move on as ifMalloryfuckingStantonhadn't dropped into our lives and shaken things up.

Speakingof . . .

"You'resupposed to be helping him, not stuffing him in a trunk, by the way,"Iremarked dryly, fighting the crease of my face as a smile spread.Ihad the feelingSpadeintentionally set her up for that, butIhad to hand it to her, it took balls to shove an armed and dangerous man in his own trunk and steal his car. "Istill don't understand how you got it started without his key."

Herbrown tresses bobbed around her head as she sighed. "Youknow, for intelligent criminals, you're pretty dim.It'scalled a key fob, and as long as it's in the car, it'll work."Hereyes were filled with amusement when they met mine, and my fucking heart stopped in my chest as she smiled brighter than the sun. "Besides, he was injured and mostly unarmed, and he practically put himself in the trunk.It'sreally not that impressive.Hell, allIdid was shut it."

"Oh," was allIcould muster.I'dforgotten about the key fobs.Usually,Idrove a nondescript older car, as technology-free as possible, to stay under the radar while working.Nokey fobs, no fancy alarm systems, and no chance someone would break in and steal the stock radio sitting in the dash.Itwas a good thingIwas learning now, that way, we could prevent the same mistake from being made in the future.

Wesat there in awkward silence for a few more minutes beforeSpadecame to find us, shrugging on a new shirt carefully and quite slowly for a man who was used to doing everything at breakneck speed.Heeyed the distance between her andIand plunked down right in the middle, reaching for the little lady with a salacious grin on his lips.

Whenshe balked at his advance and leaned away, he growled at her, andIkicked him in the side, rewarded with a nice groan of pain.

"Thefuck?" he shouted at me over his good shoulder, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Whatwas that for?"

"Leaveher alone,"Iordered him, eyeing her carefully as she curled in on herself at the end of the couch.

"Ido whatIwant."

Heleaned toward her again, and this time,Istood off the couch, walked around it, and lifted her straight up off the cushion.Withouta second thought,Itook her straight to my room, closed the door onSpade'squickly-moving form, and locked the bolt that would ensure he wouldn't get in.

Andthen, confused and suddenly repulsed by my actions,Idumped her unceremoniously on the floor, inched over to my bed, and sat down.

"Shit."

Shestared at me likeI'dgrown horns from the heapI'dleft her in; meanwhile,Spadehammered at the door, yelling aboutkidnappersandno fairand a lot of things that were quite ironic when you stopped to think about it.

"Goaway,"Ishouted back at him, hoping he'd take the hint.Fuck, she might have let him touch her once before, but as someone with severe hang-ups on physical touch,Icould tell when someone just really didn't want to be mauled.

Andapparently,Spadecould only see two inches in front of himself, if that.

Iwatched her from my comfortable seat on the bed as she rearranged herself on my floor, tugging that damnable leather skirt down to hide her legs—and failing miserably.Herface was screwed up in a determined scowl, and those expressive eyes of hers looked relieved.

Itook a small comfort in the fact thatIwas part of the reason for that relaxed gaze.

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