Page 2 of House of Cards

Thank God. At least I won’t be alone anymore.

“Running late tonight, Mr. Wells,” I call out as I round the corner. “Lucky for you, I still have a slice of?—”

“Slice of Heaven?” asks the wiry man with pockmarked skin and tattoos who just came through the door. “Yeah…I could do with some of that.”

His dark eyes lock on mine, flat and cold, like they’ve already stripped me naked and still feel like stripping me down some more. With a hunting knife.

He calmly reaches behind him, and pushes closed the door. Quietly. Not like he wants to reduce noise, but like he knows he doesn’t have to be loud to scare me. And then he flips over the OPEN sign.

His scent hits my nose.

Cigarettes, weed.

The same smell that wafted to me from the alley where the SUV was parked.

My stomach drops. He’d been watching me take out the trash, sizing up his prey. How the hell he got to the front of the diner so fast is anyone’s guess. Unless…

There are two of them. One in the back, one in the front.

“Get out, or I’m calling the cops,” I say in a shaky voice.

My threat doesn’t faze him in the slightest. “Where’s Ricky?”

I can’t help but snort.

One of Ricky’s friends? I should’ve known.

I’ve seen my brother around this type more than once. Gangbanger wannabes driving stolen cars and smoking weed like they’re auditioning for the next season of Narcos.

“Probably at one of the handful of casinos that don’t have him on their watch list. Should’ve checked the nearest blackjack table before you came here to terrorize me. Would’ve saved you a lot of time.”

The gangbanger’s smile hardens into something colder, eyes slitting.

“We had an appointment.”

“Yeah, well, you of all people should know Ricky’s not great at showing up.”

But as I say it, my fried brain is reworking its original hypothesis. Ricky’s friends smile a lot, but not like this guy. They smile because they’re high. This guy smiles like he’s going to enjoy what’s coming next…and I’m not.

“You should go,” I croak. “Like now.”

He ignores that. “Think I like being stood up, Zoey?”

My heart thumps as hard as he knocked on the door. I bleat out a panicked, “How d’you know my name?”

Light glints off his teeth as he grins and taps his heart. Instinctively, I reach up to brush the name badge attached to my shirt’s breast pocket.

“Oh. Right.”

He shrugs, eyes roving my body again. “Ricky mentioned you a couple times. Never said what a juicyculo?1you had.”

“Probably because he’s my brother, and that’s disgusting.”

“Me and my sister used to be close.” He shrugs. “Way Ricky talks about you, thought you two were keeping it in the family.”

“Um, no,” I mutter, trying not to gag at the thought. “Now Ricky isn’t here, and it’s late. So how about you get the fuck out of my diner before I call the cops?”

He ambles deeper into the diner. I never thought of how small the seating area was before, especially with the booths blocking all but a narrow walkway between the front door and back of house.

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