Page 12 of Queen Of WildCards

Heregarded me with a raised eyebrow as if he were the leader here andIwas but a pawn. "Spadewill be happy."

Ishrugged, my eyes glued to his feet. "Dependson what we find.Nopoint in killing someone right off.Andif they talk to the cops before we get to them?"

Asingle brow on his pristine face arched upward. "Highlyunlikely."Hestood, careful not to get too close to me.Blackjackdidn't like to be touched.Hehad a hate/hate relationship with skin-to-skin contact, andIdidn't want to know why.Henever offered, andInever asked.Sometimes, a man had to have his secrets.

Thisone was his to keep.

Iflicked my hand in the direction of the door, turning my back to him. "Cleanout the cage.We'reabout to have a new house guest."Icleared my throat as he stood and waited until he was all the way to the door before tacking on the last bit. "Oh, and make sure you grab the masks, too.We'llneed them."

Blackjacklifted two fingers in mock salute and marched out the door, whistling a pop tune as he disappeared into the belly of the warehouse.

Forthe life of me,Icouldn't figure out what had all the guys on edge.Blackjackwasn't usually so voluntarily helpful, andJokerwasn't usually this unhinged, this desperate, thisuncontrollable.Spadehad been a bit grouchier lately, probably due to being banned from the gym he used to frequent, and less need for heads to be beaten in.Hisanger and frustration were culminating in a giant ball of fiery bullshit, andIdidn't much care to see the fallout.

Andthen there was me.Hell,I'dactually entertained a call from myfatherthe other day, just to be berated for my lack of drive.

Evenin death,Iwouldn't be able to please that man.

Isighed and cracked my knuckles, settling in on my office couch to await the arrival of my less-than-intelligent thief and his current incompetent watchman, our handy enforcer.

* * *

Idozedfor about a half hour before the sound of the automatic garage door rattled noisily around the metal warehouse.Witha groan,Istraightened and smoothed my hair, mentally fortifying myself to deal with the shitstorm headed straight for us.

Myhand moved to the edge of my desk, searching for a phone that wasn't there untilIremembered the poor, demolished carcass of the little technological wonder was lying across the room in fragments, thanks to my earlier temper tantrum.Iscowled at the empty room and sat behind my desk, the frustration only building.

Icouldn't be without a phone for long.Itwas inevitableI'dbe forced to procure one in the next day or two, andIhated going out in public.Icould handle it, but the general populace left me with a nasty feeling that crawled over my skin for days after.

Themetal steps to the enclosed office were the only warningIgot when several pairs of feet started climbing in my direction.Icounted theclank clankof each step and smiled calmly when the door swung open to admit a very pale, haggardJoker, a very irateSpade, and a smugBlackjack.

Spadetook his customary position with his back against the wall, staring out at the room, the door to his left, me to his right, but only slightly, his arms crossed petulantly.Hispermanent scowl had taken up residence on his face, and the thirty-yard stare he'd perfected was busy burning a hole in my opposite wall.

Blackjacktossed himself flagrantly into a nearby armchair, his legs dangling haphazardly over one side as he picked his teeth with a toothpick and stared at his phone.Onefoot bobbed up and down, andIsmiled to myself, the motion of his leg reminding me of how a child swings their legs back and forth when they're sitting somewhere their feet don't touch.

Jokerlooked like shit.Wholeand complete shit.Heleaned over the side of the couch, and while he didn't look like he was in danger of puking anymore,Istill subconsciously inched my foot toward my desk trash can, ready to punt it in his direction should he need it.Clumpsof his blonde hair hung matted against his face, and the low moan that rolled out of his throat made me cringe.

Poorguy was in need of some fluids and a good rest.

Unfortunately, we didn't have the time for all that.

Ileaned forward, propping my elbows on the desk ominously asIsteepled my fingers before me. "So,"Istarted, "who wants to tell me what the fuck we're doing to solve this problem?"

Spadegrowled,Jokergroaned, andBlackjack'ssmirk grew wider.Thelatter spoke up first.

"Phonerecords," he muttered, handing me his phone with a look of wariness. "Website'slocked down, butIsent a pretty convincing request through the legal channels."

Ilifted a brow; it wasn't often thatBlackjacktook the legal route first. "Andthe illegal route?"

"Non-sequitur."

Sometimeshis vocabulary made my head spin.Ishook it off and turned toJoker. "Howabout you?Anythingto say for yourself, anything helpful to add to the conversation?"

Jokersquinted against the light and struggled to sit upright. "I'dlike to start by saying tequila andIare getting a divorce.It'snot working out, andI'mtired of the hangover after a fight."

Crickets.FuckingCrickets.

Ofall the times to land a joke, he chose now.

Whata motley crewIhad here.

---