Page 45 of Queen Of WildCards

MALLORY

Itwasn't thatIneeded protection fromSpade.Iknew realistically ifIput up a fight, he'd probably, eventually, back off.Butthe only wayIcould see surviving this situation was to get these men on my side, and whileIknewIcould reasonably putSpadein the category whereIwould have an armory at my back ifAcewere to decideI'mbetter off dead, he was also unstable and wildly unpredictable.Aman with a torture chamber twenty feet away from his bed wasn't someoneIcould count on to consistently choose the smart option.

BlackJackwas an enigma.Therewas something about his past that was decidedly off, and his heart was blacker than a fucking piece of coal, but inside that chunk of rock was a soft, beating thing, andIcould see it in the way he protected me fromSpade'sadvances whenIwasn't eager to entertain them.

Itdidn't matter how good that spur-of-the-moment, life-ending, panicked sex was.Iwasn't very up for entertaining another round, not now thatIwas thinking clearly and not panicking that my life might still end at any moment.

Acewas off the table.He'dshown no interest in anything but keeping an iron grip on his group, andIhad to respect that.Controlwas everything, that and power, and ifItook even a little bit of it away from him, it threw a wrench in all his plans.Allin all, he was the most dangerous to my survival, the biggest threat.

Jokerwas—well, he was troubled.Alcoholic, clearly a bit sexed up, he reminded me of a dog that had been kicked a few times too many and was now looking for a kick around every corner.Youcould see it in the way he flinched aroundAce, thoughIdoubted that had anything to do with physical abuse.

Andnow thatIwas in his room, and he was heading back to watch me for the night,Imight be able to work some details about him out thatIcould use to my advantage.

Surviveat all costs.

Jokerhefted my bags over one shoulder as he slid sideways through the doorway, a shit-eating grin on his lips. "Spade'salready out on errands forAce, soIbroke in and stole these.Ican't wait to hear him bitching over coffee in the morning."

Hewas careful about my bags, though he didn't need to be, and once he'd finagled them into a nearby chair, he turned around to face me with an absolutely unhinged grin.

"So, you're stuck with me tonight."Heleaped into the center of the bed like a flying squirrel and reached for the bottle of liquor, popping the top with a flourish. "Whaddyasay we get this party started?"

Irealized thenI'dgone from the arms of a lion to the jaws of a tiger.

"Uh,Idon't really feel like drinking,"Itried, hedging my bets that he hadn't seen me pound several shots of this particular brand of tequila at the bar the night they kidnapped me.Fuck,Icould use a drink right about now—my life was about as unstable asI'dever seen it, andIneeded something to take the edge off.ButifIlost my edge,Ilost control, andIneeded to stay alert in case another opportunity to escape presented itself.

"Nonsense," he drawled easily, flashing me that smile he wore for our video chat.

Andthen that smile spurred a thought of the contents of said video chat, andIreached out to grip the neck of the bottle where his hand still wrapped around it, dragging him and the liquor toward my lips.

Thetequila burned like a motherfucker on the way down, andIfought not to choke on the cloying taste of it asJokerwatched on with those pretty lips parted, tongue sliding between them across the seam to wet their surface asIwatched.

Itook three long pulls off the bottle, wincing as it lit my insides up quite nicely before shaking my head like a rabid dog. "Whoo, that shit bites."

Ittook me another couple of seconds to realizeIwas still gripping his hand—and the bottle—and release them both with a nervous laugh.

Heset the popcorn between us and flipped around to watch tv, flicking from channel to channel as if the tension in the air between kidnapper and captive wasn't charged.Electric.

Wrong.

Sofucking wrong.

Iblinked stupidly whenIrealized a few hours into the aimless television shows that his silence had been swapped for soft snoring.

Thisfucker thought so little of me that he was willing to sleep on the job.Itoyed with the idea of sneaking out but realized pretty quickly that wasexactlywhy he wasn't afraid to sleep on the job—Iwasn't getting out of here undetected.Theymight not have some state-of-the-art super security system, but they had fail-safes that alerted them if something moved where it shouldn't, when it shouldn't.

Iglanced at the clock on the bedside table.

1:44AM

Surelythe others would be asleep by now.Itmight be safest to explore the compound while they were resting, soIcould get a feel for the environment.Withthat thought in mind,Islipped off the bed and over to my bags, rifling through them untilIfound a pair of fuzzy sleep shorts.Islipped them on under my skirt and shimmied out of the leather, grateful for the modesty such a move afforded me, even if the alcoholic criminal on the bed was too out cold to notice or appreciate my ass.

Hisloss.

Mycuriosity got the best of me, andImoved like a cat around the room, stealthy and silent asIrifled through drawer after drawer, finding nothing out of the ordinary.Clothing, most of it nondescript, tees and jeans and cargo pants lined drawer after drawer untilIpulled out one drawer that seemed awfully shallow for the middle of the bureau.Myfingers slipped around the edges untilIfelt the part that was made to lift the base, andIgave the fucking thing a little tug.

Thecompartment underneath was empty save for a manilla folder, whichIpromptly pulled out to investigate.

Whatin the hell?

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