Page 33 of Devious Truth (Vicious Sinners #3)

Kieran sits at the table, a lit cigar dangling from his mouth. He looks up from the cards in his hand when I walk in with Frank, then goes back to checking out his cards like he doesn’t know me or care I’m there.

Frank takes his seat and picks up the cards lying face down in front of him while I busy myself at the bar getting out a tray and making sure everything is stocked.

“Beers all around!” Frank calls out as he throws a chip into the middle of the playing area. “Best you got on tap.”

On tap. On tap. Okay, I can do that. There’re only two beers we keep on tap in the gaming rooms, so I line up the steins. With shaky hands, I fill each and place them on my tray.

I can barely hear the conversation it the room, my heart is beating so hard in my ears as I make my way around the table. Kieran clears his throat, catching my attention when I place his drink in front of him.

Right. I’m supposed to be getting a look at everyone’s cards. I drop off the last three drinks, glancing quickly at the hands that I can see. None of it means anything to me. I haven’t played poker since high school, and even then, I was no good at it.

I tuck the tray under my arm, and step back into a corner. Kieran lifts his eyes to me, waiting for me to relay some magical message. He’s playing with three chips. If I’m reading him right, and there’s no reason to believe I am, he wants to know if he should raise the call when it’s his turn.

If I give him the wrong information and he loses, I could lose Caroline.

“I need an ashtray over here.” Anthony twists to look at me, holding up his cigar.

“Sure.” I smile, rushing over to the bar and digging out a clean ashtray. As I make my way back to him, I walk around the circle trying to get a look at everyone’s hand.

Miserably, I move back to my corner and catch Kieran’s eye again. With my heart climbing up through my throat, I tip my chin. Go ahead and raise the call.

He drops the chips into the pot, laughing and making jokes about having to have good luck sometime. The last bet is placed, and the players lay out their cards.

Kieran wins the hand.

“Guess I had to win sometime,” Kieran laughs, scooping his winnings to his side.

It goes on like this for an eternity, or five more hands.

Kieran loses only one of them, which earned me a scowl because I’d given him the okay to double a bet.

I want to shake him and remind him he was supposed to win a little and leave.

But he’s sticking around. And anytime I try to nudge him, he asks for another drink.

They’ve moved on from beers to whiskey.

“You really brought your luck with you tonight,” Frank grumbles as he deals the new hand.

“Yeah, guess so.” Kieran glances up at me when he makes his remark and Frank follows his line of sight over his shoulder to me.

“Can I get you anything else, Mr. Santucci?” I step forward, ready to do anything to get done with this.

“No, no. I’m good. Why don’t you go stand by the bar though. Makes me nervous having people behind me like this.” He laughs. “Besides, you’re too pretty to be stuck in a corner going unnoticed.”

I push on a smile, like I’m flattered and move over to the bar where he keeps his eyes on me.

The hand gets dealt and they go around with their bets. Kieran loses.

He stretches his arms up, then twists like he’s stretching out his back. He glares at me–– it’s quick and he’s turns back to the table, but I understood him. Get back to where I can see the hands, or Caroline will never come home.

“Can I get anyone anything? Another beer or a snack?” I ask the room at large.

“Another beer would be good. This whiskey is giving me heartburn.” Kieran presses his fist to his chest.

“Whiskey gives you heartburn? What sort of man gets heartburn from whiskey?” Frank teases Kieran, though his eyes are hard, almost like he’s tempting Kieran to speak out of turn.

It doesn’t matter that Kieran was invited to play with them tonight, he’s still the outsider. And if he doesn’t toe the line of propriety, it can turn dangerous for him quick.

“Could have been the kielbasa I had at lunch. Went to a Polish deli this afternoon, great food, but it’s talking back.” Kieran laughs as he drops his ante into the pot and discards two cards.

After the I bring a fresh stein of beer for Kieran and a glass of water for Frank, who sits opposite him at the table, so I can get a glimpse of the cards as I round the table to get to him. No one has much of anything that I can tell. Best hand is a pair of fives.

Kieran has three of a kind—tens.

“I didn’t ask for water.” Frank looks up at me.

“Oh, you didn’t? I’m sorry, was there something else you asked for?” I play the confused waitress. It’s not too much of an act. Now that I can see the guy sitting next to Frank has a set of two pairs—sevens and nines—I can’t remember if that beats a three of a kind or not.

“I see the five thousand and raise another ten.” The man sitting to Kieran’s left sees the bet of a hundred and raises it by four hundred. He has nothing in his hand, it’s a bluff.

“Nothing. Just leave the water, though; it’s fine.” Frank waves me away.

I step back from him, needing to catch Kieran’s attention to let him know what to do when it comes time for his bed.

“Go back by the bar,” Frank grouses. “You’re clingy tonight.”

“Sorry,” I mutter and make my way back. But now I’m behind Kieran.

“Your bet. You gonna see me?”

Kieran gets elbowed.

As I step behind him, I notice the man who upped the bet doesn’t have a dead hand. He’d discarded three cards before, but now he has five cards—all spades. That beats Kieran—I think.

Sweat beads at my temples, and my heart is practically choking me. If I get this wrong, Caroline will pay.

Kieran counts out his bet, he’s going to see and double the bet. It’s more than half of his winnings.

“Let me pour a round.” I hurry forward, reaching Kieran and the current winning hand for the bottle of whiskey. “Don’t do it,” I mutter as low as I can as I brush his shoulder.

“What was that?” The possible winner asks, his voice dark and low. “What the fuck did you just tell him?”

“I asked if he wanted a shot?” My fingers barely brush the whiskey bottle before I’m grabbed by my shoulder and thrown back from the table.

“No. You told him not to do it? Not do what? Place a bet?” He looks across the table to Frank. “This asshole’s been winning a lot tonight.”

Frank’s eyes narrow on Kieran. “You using this girl to help you win?”

“I didn’t do anything. If she wants to mutter shit under her breath, that’s on her.”

“So you’re a fucking cheat?”

“I’m no fucking cheat.” Kieran jumps to his feet.

Frank’s chair flies back as he gets up, a small revolver in his hand, pointed right at Kieran.

“Oh my god. No. Stop!” I yell. “Please don’t!”

The door flies open as a security guard responds to the noise, at the same time as Frank fires his gun. Kieran jolts back. Blood sprays, covering me. He falls to the floor, blood pooling beneath him soaking into the wood flooring.

“Oh god!”

I blink away the warm blood on my face, settling my gaze onto Kieran. His eyes are open, but lifeless.

When I look back up, Frank has his gun pointed at me.