Page 3 of Steal a King (Five Kings 2)

Flicking on the light, I smile when I see the man sitting in the chair by the panoramic windows that have the whole of Vegas in view, and he stretches out and reaches for a glass of whiskey that sits on the table by his side.

“You alone?”

“Well, unless you count the invisible whores flanking me on every side, yes, I’m alone.”

He nods and my curiosity pushes me further into the room.

“What’s up?”

“I came to return something of yours.”

“I wasn’t aware I had lost anything.”

“Are you sure about that?”

His tone is even but I sense an underlying threat behind it and once again my nerves stand to attention because pissing this man off is not on my agenda today—or ever for that matter.

“No, can’t think of anything, maybe you should just cut the crap and tell me what you have that is so important it would drag you out here to ambush me in my own fucking apartment.”

He laughs softly. “If you think this is an ambush, you have obviously forgotten who you’re dealing with.”

“I know who I’m fucking dealing with, which is why I’m being so civil.”

I sit on the chair before him and reaching for a glass of whiskey that is never far away, say firmly, “So, cut the crap, what’s the problem?”

He opens his hand and I stare at the gold coin in the palm of it and feel the tension increase.

“The coin, what happened?”

“You tell me.”

“For fuck’s sake, Ryder, cut the crap and just tell me already. I’ve had a shit day and the last thing I need is a riddle to solve when all I want is to sleep. Why are you sitting in my apartment with your fucking coin in your hand, showing me something that will only mean trouble?”

“I’m not.”

I count to ten in my mind because this guy will be the death of me—probably literally and as I look at the grim reaper sitting opposite, I can tell he is seriously pissed off and I just hope I’m not the cause of it because if I am, I doubt I’ll see the sun rise.

“This isn’t my coin, it’s yours—apparently.”

“What?” I stare at him as if he’s lost his mind and instinctively reach for my wallet.

As my fingers close around an identical gold coin, I sigh with relief. Pulling it out, I open my palm and we look at the two matching coins and then Ryder opens his other hand and I stare at a third in surprise.

“What’s this?”

“My coin.”

“Then whose is the other one?”

“Like I said, yours, apparently. It was found on a dead man in the Dragon’s Ruin. Billy Channing and the last word on his lips was my name. Turns out I was framed for his murder and the person responsible came from here carrying your gold coin. So, forgive me for turning up unannounced, but what the fuck is going on?”

I have absolutely no words to answer him because I know nothing of this and yet this is Ryder King sitting here who will not just accept that and go away. I think fast because if someone has framed Ryder for murder in my name, I am in more trouble than I’ve ever been.

I study the coin in my hand and as much as it looks identical, there is something that doesn’t feel quite right about it, so I say firmly, “May I?”

I take the coin from his hand and as I compare the two, I immediately know they are different from the weight alone. To anyone else they are identical, but to the trained eye they are poles apart and I hand them over to Ryder and say darkly, “Then we have a problem.”

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