Page 45 of Wild Card (Advantage Play 1)

“It means that I have a feeling you’re going to be trouble.”

Should I be offended? I mean, who says something like that? I don’t even know this guy, yet he’s already made up his mind about me?

I march forward.

“How am I going to be trouble? No offense, Diece, but I wasn’t the one who approached either of those guys.” I point back to the casino where I assume Jack and Kingston are still at. “Jack is a fellow blackjack player, and Kingston asked if I could help him with something. That’s it.”

Diece huffs out a deep breath but doesn’t bother to reply, so I press on as I stomp closer to him.

“Don’t you huff at me! It’s not like I’m toying with either of them or planned on starting anything in the first place. Jack is barely an acquaintance, and Kingston is––”

My mouth slams shut.

Shit. What is Kingston? I’d kill for an explanation, yet I know I won’t get one no matter how hard I try to dissect our situation, let alone confiding in his soldier in hopes that he might know something I don’t know. Squeezing my eyes shut, I scrunch up my face and bite out, “You know what? Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

My silence seems to be enough to finally grab the jerk’s attention. Lazily, he scans me up and down.

After a few seconds, he lifts his chin and says, “I can see why they like you.”

Feeling exasperated, I joke, “Then can you tell me? ‘Cause I don’t get it. And who says they like me anyway?”

With a dry laugh, he stops walking long enough to let me catch up to him. Once I’ve reached his side, he continues heading to our destination at a slower speed, and I appreciate the opportunity to catch my breath instead of chasing him around.

“People don’t talk much in this line of business,” he confides. “If they do, they wind up dead. Instead, we use our instincts, and we watch. From what I’ve seen? You’re smart. Cute. Sarcastic. And you scream innocence louder than a damn siren. It’s no wonder you have Kingston wrapped around your dainty little finger.”

“I don’t know about the whole innocence part,” I mumble, keeping my head down while completely ignoring the having Kingston wrapped around my finger part. Apparently, Diece is delusional.

He scoffs. “What? Because of your past? No offense, sweetheart, but just because you had a shitty upbringing doesn’t make you a cynic. In fact, I think that’s why you appeal so much to him.”

Heart racing at the mention of my upbringing, I whisper, “What do you know about my past?”

“Who do you think wrote up most of your file, sweetheart?” His brow is quirked in a silent challenge, leaving me speechless. He can’t know everything. If he did, he would’ve told Kingston, and Kingston wouldn’t have asked if I was a virgin. He would’ve already known the truth. My hands are shaky as we round the corner, but I can’t find the drive to continue a conversation I wish could be wiped from his memory.

Sensing my uneasiness, D stops near the lower steps of Dottie’s Diner and slides his palm into his suit pocket before pulling out a cigarette.

“Mind if I wait outside?”

The step almost brings us to the same height as I look over at him. “Nope.” I take the stairs two at a time before turning around and adding, “And thanks for not killing Jack.”

With a wink, he gives the cigarette pack a tap against the palm of his hand. “The night’s still young, sweetheart.”

There’s something about him. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s his crooked grin. Maybe it’s the big burly arms that make me almost feel safe. Maybe there’s a sense of camaraderie I feel toward him. That he didn’t write the gory details of my past for his boss to read with a glass of whiskey in his hand. I don’t know, but I come to a conclusion regardless. One that would probably kill him if he knew what I was thinking.

“What are you thinking, sweetheart?” he asks, reading me like a freaking book while placing a cigarette into his mouth and reaching for the lighter.

I shake my head. “You don’t wanna know.”

With a laugh, he takes another pull from his cigarette before saying, “Well, now I gotta know.”

“You really want to know?” I press in disbelief.

Please say no. Please say no.

“Yeah.”

Rule #3: If something feels fishy, it probably is. Trust your instincts. And my instincts are humming on low right now. There’s no threat. No malice toward me. There might’ve been a smidge of it when we left the casino, but after our conversation, I think he came to a conclusion about me just like I did about him.

With a grin, I confide, “I think you’re nothing but a cuddly little puppy in a Doberman’s body.”

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