Page 191

“Like I said, gonna offer you a favor.” Something awful glittered in his eyes. “Or maybe I oughta say ‘a chance’.” He stepped in her direction and held out his hand. A tiny notebook and pencil were level with her face. She blinked at him.

“I don’t really like sellin’ my own people,” he began. She opened her mouth but he flipped the notebook vertical, a gesture for her to stop. “Didn’t say I wouldn’t do it. Payment is payment.” He dipped his chin, acknowledging his flaws. “But I don’t feel great about it.”

“Yeah?” she said. “Then maybe get us the fuck outta here, you backstabber.”

He shook his head. “Now that ain’t gonna happen. Bribe some guards for a little time is one thing. Ain’t gonna be no sneakin’ twelve nekkid people out from under Elijah Mather without gettin’ caught. But maybe if you had anyone back home …” He offered the notebook and pencil. “You might wanna send a message? So they don’t think you just up and died on ‘em.”

Back home.

The idea wiped every thought from Buckeye’s head.

New Covenant wasn’t home. Would anyone in The Vice miss her? She had almost no one left back there.

Almost.

She narrowed her eyes at the offer. “What’ll it cost me?”

August grinned. He took the pencil and paper in his off hand, and fished in his front pocket again. Came out with something balled in a fist. A too-cocky saunter took him to the cell divider, and he leaned on it with a shoulder, weight on one leg and the other ankle crossed over the first, toe of his boot on the floor.

“Found out why you were so worried about payin’ back money.” His smile showed teeth. “Lucky Bucky.”

The nickname raised hair on her arms. Frozen fingers dove beneath her ribs and squeezed. August opened his fist to show a pair of dice on his palm, bones bleached white as Fortune’s promise.

Fuck. No.

“Thought you’d like to play the odds.”

Her pulse lubbed in her throat. Mouth went dry.

Who’s this fuck been talkin’ to?

“See, I figger you roll against me,” he went on, “and if you win, I let you write your little note.”

Her muscles were a mass of knots. Here it comes.

“And if I win …” His focus shifted to Wayland. Buckeye followed the look to see a former lustworker peeling back the halves of the other man’s fly. A similar pad and pencil lay on the ground.

She wanted to scream. Was that all she was goddamn good for? Was there no further purpose for her in this whole fucked up world than to coax men to their sticky ends?

He looked down at her and gave a tilt of his head to his proffered hand. “Watcha say? Feelin’ lucky?”

In her head, she called him every name in the book. Smug prick probably thought he was being reasonable, but it didn’t matter. Her old refrain was rising up to drown all that out.

Come on Bucky, let’s get Lucky.

And sometimes, she had.

Sometimes.

At least take a chance.

Maybe August was lying. Maybe he’d never deliver the message. But what was one more dick? One more and she could get word back home. Keep him from worrying.

Come on, Bucky.

She hated herself. Hated everything.

Buckeye sneered. “Fine.”