Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
I sigh. “All right. You win. We’ll do it. But there’s one thing you should know about St. Patrick’s Day…”
She cocks her head. “What?”
“It’s… It’s kind of my birthday.”
She drops her jaw. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”
I shake my head. “It’s not a big deal. You’ve only known me a few days. It’s not like you’re supposed to know everything about me yet.”
“Of course. But still…” She swallows. “I hate to ask this of you on your birthday of all days, but I’m afraid the longer we wait to make a move on Rouge, the more people will disappear. End up like Alissa or Maddox, half-starved in some makeshift prison.” Her face darkens. “Or worse, fully starved. Or…” Her face twists.
Beheaded. I can hear the word as she’s thinking it.
I rub at my forehead. “I totally get it. I don’t make a big deal of my birthday anyway. I just…” I grab her hands. “I wanted you to know.”
“I’m glad to know.”
“When’s your birthday?”
“November ninth.”
“A fall baby.”
“And a spring baby.” She squeezes my hand. “No wonder you got so…so…” Her blush darkens.
“So what, babe?”
“So…animalistic. The last time we… You know. I kept thinking about how men tend to get more hot and bothered when the weather starts warming up every year. You especially.”
I pull her into an embrace. “Babe, for you I can be warm any time of year. And seriously, don’t worry about the birthday thing. I’d rather spend it with you.” We look into each other’s eyes for a minute before I tear myself away. “Besides, we’re helping Maddox. And Alissa. Finishing their mission. And we could be saving countless lives in the process.”
“Agreed.” She glances toward my left shoulder. “Unrelated, but do you happen to have a fireplace in your home?”
“A fireplace? I do, but why?”
She bites her lip. “Because… We’re going to have to brand you.”
I widen my eyes. “What?”
“The servers. They have a brand on each shoulder. The left is their suit, the right their number.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I thought they were tattoos.”
“Some of them are, especially the servers in Diamonds and Hearts. But the black sections, Spades and Clubs, those are usually branded on. Saves time. And we don’t have time to stop at a tattoo parlor, anyway. So the brand will have to do.”
I swallow. “Do you have access to these brands?”
“I do. Rouge has been keeping them in my dressing room, so I have easy access. You’ll have to choose, Spades or Clubs?”
I mull it over. I’ve almost exclusively sat in the Spades section whenever I’ve come with Maddox to Aces Underground. But I wasn’t sitting there the last time I came. I was in Clubs, enjoying a cigar, when I first heard Bianca sing.
And from that moment, I knew nothing would ever be the same again.
“Clubs.”
She nods. “Perfect. And what number? I should have all of them in my dressing room, so you can have your pick. It’ll be a permanent brand on you, so pick one you want on your shoulder forever.”
And for some reason, this isn’t a difficult decision at all.
I’ll choose the card that trumps all the royals. The Jacks, the Kings.
Even the Queen herself, as much as she wouldn’t want to admit it.
I grin. “I choose the Ace. The Ace of Clubs.”
36
BIANCA
I rarely drive my Silver Lexus. That’s the nice part about living in the Loop. Everything I need is within walking distance, and if it isn’t, it’s an easy trip on the L. I only drive it to Aces when it’s too cold to walk. So I’m glad I get to take the old girl out of town.
I stopped at Aces this morning and grabbed two brands from my dressing room. The Club and the Ace. Quite a few are stacked in the corner along with other items from Rouge’s office, so I doubt they’ll be missed if she looks around. I’m on my way to Harrison’s home in Oak Park now.
I park in front of his house. It’s a nice ranch-style home with a dark-red roof and light-yellow siding with navy shutters on each window. He has a tidy front yard surrounded by a white picket fence and a small garden in the corner. He walks out his front door—the same color as the shutters, of course—and waves at me as I park.
I get out and give him a hug. “Happy birthday, Harrison!”
He exhales sharply through his nose. “Some birthday.” He breaks the embrace, but then his eyes soften. “There’s no one I’d rather spend it with, though.”
“Same goes for me, handsome.” I look toward his house. “Your home is so charming.”
He smiles. “Thanks. I’ve done a lot of work on it since I got it a few years ago.”
“I’ve been living in the big cities so long, it’s almost startling when I meet someone who doesn’t live in an apartment.” I gesture to the garden. “Planting anything soon?”