Page 39 of Texas Hold Em'
“I was testing you, and you passed.”
I narrowed my eyes at her.
Caroline threw her hands in the air. “Fine.I’llget in the car. Boys, you too.” She swirled her finger in the air and the men got in the car, one behind the wheel and one in the passenger seat, leaving the other seat in the back beside Caroline open for me.
Grudgingly, I inched forward and peered inside while she put her seatbelt on.
“My father doesn’t have all night,” Caroline said. “Do you want to talk to him, or don’t you?”
Here goes nothing.
I got in the back seat beside the woman I trusted less than anyone I’d ever met, put my seatbelt on, and tried to take deep breaths to recover from the fight.
It had been ruthless.
Caroline fought like a feral cat, but I figured out her tactics fairly quickly. She liked to use my own momentum against me. She’d get me off balance, and as I teetered or leaned one direction, she’d come slamming toward me. It only worked a handful of times before I caught onto her and shifted how I was fighting. Instead of letting her lead, I forced her to react. Unpredictable movements that didn’t result in landing a hit confused her, and while she tried to figure out what I was playing at, I managed to kick her in the ribs, slam the heel of my hand into her nose, and drive my elbow into her spine.
It was enough to slow the fight down enough that we were evenly matched.
I didn’t know how much time passed as I sat in the back of that SUV trying to act calm, cool, and collected while I was screaming inside. My body hurt. I was terribly tired. All I wanted was to climb back into bed with Jameson, but that seemed like a far-off pipe dream at this point.
We arrived at the estate shortly before five in the morning. Over the roof of the sprawling house, sunlight painted the sky dark blue instead of black. Security cameras hummed on swivels as we approached the front door. A little red light blinked and followed me as we moved inside.
We passed through a wide foyer with an iron chandelier overhead and moved down a massive corridor that broke off to several rooms of the house like a lounge, formal sitting room, and what appeared to be a grand ballroom of sorts set up for some sort of training like fencing.
Peculiar,I thought.
Potatoes opened the back door and held it for me. I stepped out onto a cobblestone patio surrounded by solar lights around the edge. A large fountain with an eagle in the middle bubbled and a violin played from a speaker mounted on the outside wall.
I smelled Bates’s cigar before I spotted him standing on the other side of the fountain.
Instinctively, I stopped walking, but Caroline put a hand between my shoulder blades and pushed me forward, leading me all the way around the fountain and out in front of her father, whose cool blue eye left its target of the full moon in the starry night sky.
His lips spread in a smile and his cigar dangled precariously out of the corner of his mouth. “Miss Hart. What a pleasure it is to see you again. You’re in much better shape than the last time we ran into each other. Well, sort of.” He reached for my cheek, which I was sure was either bright pink or beginning to bruise from Caroline’s first strike.
I recoiled.
Bates seemed to like my reaction because his smile stretched. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid now, Miss Hart. You were the one who came looking for me, remember? I’m merely accepting your invitation to discuss our situation.”
“You mean the Devil situation?” I asked, trying to sound sly. I wasn’t sure if it worked. My voice sounded hollow and scratched my throat as I spoke.
The last time I’d been face to face with the man, I was sure I was going to die.
Mason had been beside me, bleeding out on his carpet, and Suzie had been locked in his fridge to keep her safe from the spray of bullets. I remembered the way Bates had looked at me as I knelt in front of him and he balanced on the balls of his feet. He’d been smoking a cigar then, too. He’d blown smoke in my face and liked the way it made me choke. When I tried to stop him from hurting Mason more, he almost burned the inside of my wrist with the burning ember of his cigar.
If Mason hadn’t been there, I would have the scar to remind myself of that night on my wrist right now.
“Yes.” Bates sounded like a man on the edge of a release. “The Devils.”
His hatred for them ran deeper than I could ever fathom, and bloodlust burned in his single blue eye while his other milky white one dared me to look into its depths.
I did not.
Bates slid a hand in the front pocket of his navy blue suit jacket and withdrew another cigar. He used a cigar clipper from his pant pocket to chop the end off before twirling it neatly in his fingers and holding it out to me.
“Care for a smoke?” he propositioned.
“No thank you.”
