Page 9 of Silent Schemes
The Bulgarians are suddenly gone.
It’s just us, the dealer, and the crowd of ghosts.
We play three more hands.
She wins one, I take the other two.
On the fourth, she goes all in.
“All or nothing,” she says, eyes boring into mine.
I lean forward. “You really believe there’s nothing left to lose?”
She considers that, tilting her head just so.
The move is deliberate, meant to draw my gaze to the line of her neck.
She’s good, but she’s not perfect.
Her right thumb rubs the side of her cocktail glass.
Nerves, perhaps.
The tension is so thick you could bite it in half.
She calls the bet, flips her cards.
Ace-king, both black.
A monster hand.
I turn mine over—queen and king.
She expects a loss.
But the flop is in my favor.
The dealer stares at the cards, then at me, like he’s waiting for a gun to go off.
Sienna’s expression doesn’t change, but her eyes flare, just once, then go flat.
She gathers her remaining chips, stands.
I can feel her anger, not at losing, but at being outplayed.
She stands and gathers her purse. “Dangerous game to play with me, Mr. Bane. You may have won, but you’ll never get close.”
I drop my voice to its softest register, rising to lean and whisper in her ear, the one that means I’m serious. “Closer than you think, Miss Cross.”
That’s the moment her mask slips.
Just a flicker.
Eyelids widen, breath stutters.
She knows I know.
And she’s not sure what comes next.
