Page 200 of House of Cards

I steal another glance at Smith. His dark eyes dart between Miguel and Elonzo like he’s watching the world’s most lethal tennis match. The calculation in his gaze is subtle, but it’s there.

Wait. Is he... is he trying to create chaos?

No. Stop it.

He sold you out. He’s not planning some heroic rescue, he’s just enjoying the drama.

“I never touched your sister,” Miguel says, but too quickly. Way too quickly. His fingers drum against his thigh as he watches Elonzo with wide-eyed apprehension.

“Who said you did?” Elonzo’s smile is all teeth and zero fun.

“I didn’t fuck her,” Miguel insists. He’s looking a little sweaty. “I’d never disrespect you like that,Patrón.”

“Now I get why Michelle said you had to be so careful,” Smith says suddenly, casual as fuck. “Having tomotelear?3 like a couple of teenagers. What was the name of that motel just off the highway?”

Miguel’s face drains of color. “He’s lying.Patrón, I swear, I never touched her!”

The silence that follows is so thick I could choke on it.

Elonzo stares at Miguel for a long moment, then laughs. “No pasa nada?4,” he says, waving his hand dismissively. “My sister was a fuckingputarat. Like I give a shit who she spread her legs for.”

Miguel’s shoulders sag with relief, but there’s tension around his eyes, like he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Elonzo gestures to the bedroom. “You’ll get a piece of thischimba.”?5

Luis shoves me forward after Miguel as the man inches reluctantly toward the door like it’s a guillotine.

At the last moment, Miguel swings around to face Elonzo. “It only happened once,” he blurts out. “I was drunk. She came on to me?—”

“I said I don’t care,” Elonzo replies behind us, voice eerily calm.

There’s a flash of movement beside me, but I don’t even have time to flinch before the gunshot goes off.

Miguel drops to his knees, screeching like a barn owl. A wet, red stain spreads rapidly across his crotch, coating his hands as he tries to stem the blood spurting from his groin.

Jesus.

Elonzo just shot him in the dick.

“But you all know how I feel about liars,” Elonzo says, smoke still curling from his gun barrel before he drops his arm to his side.

A second gunshot cracks through the air, making me swing around in shock.

The man holding Smith falls against the opposite wall, a neat hole between his eyes. His body crumples to the floor like someone cut his strings, leaving a bright smear of blood and brains in its wake.

“The fuck?” Elonzo dodges to the side, firing wildly down the hallway, face scrunched up with anger. Luis joins him a second later, aiming at the helpless pot plant whose only crime in life was growing into a vaguely humanoid shape.

Everyone, myself included, seems confused as fuck…except Smith.

Smith fucking Hutchinson doesn’t hesitate.

While we’re all still trying to process what the fuck’s going on, he calmly steps away from his captor, his arms jerking behind his back in a sudden, sharp movement.

Pain distorts his features, and he dips forward like he’s going to fall on his face.

For a second I think he’s been shot, but then he straightens and brings his hands out in front of him, his plastic handcuff dangling from only one wrist.

Eyes locked on mine, he grabs his thumb andtwists.

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