“Elias,” the king said. “I’ve been trying to get in contact for days”
In the background, there was the unmistakable sound of a bed creaking, a dreamy feminine sigh. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why Jonas hadn’t been answering the phone. What it must be like, sharing a bed with the woman who had their hooks in you. Knowing she would be there always. Having no deception between them. It had to be incredible.
Elias beat back his envy. “I’ve been dealing with Roksana.” The king knew him well enough that no explanation was needed. “I need your help.”
“Sure, now you do,” Jonas said dryly. “What do you think the chances are that I was trying to get a hold of you for the exact same reason?”
He didn’t answer directly. “There’s a poker game happening tonight in Moscow. Unless I’m wrong, it’s underworld only. Do you know anything about it?”
“Yes, although now time is against us.” Footsteps echoed down the line. “You’ve heard there’s a been a rash of slayings recently in North America? Well, it’s gotten worse. There is…unrest in response to the vampire throne changing hands. To say the least. Sides are being formed and there’s a game piece floating around. Something that could be valuable to whichever side claims it first.” He paused. “Evidently the key to procuring the game piece is on the line at the poker game tonight. It’s a marriage decree.”
Elias frowned. “For who?”
“The daughter of Tilda who runs Enders in Coney Island. Mary the Mad.”
He massaged the bridge of his nose. “All right, I’m not asking any more questions because the answers are always fucking weird. Just get me and Tucker spots at the table.”
“Consider it done. I’ll send you the details.” A door closed on the other end of the line. “I take it Roksana is competing tonight?”
Why did he hesitate to answer? “Yes.”
He heard the regret in the king’s voice when he said, “Then she competes against us.”
Roksana watched the mansion from a crouched position in the shadows, backpack slung over one shoulder, her mother’s voice ringing in her head.
Locate weapons in advance.
Know your exits.
Know your opponents.
She should have spent the last two days finding out more about this poker game. Who attended. Was it a one-time event or a usual occurrence? If it was the latter and the players were well acquainted, she needed to be especially on her guard. She could be walking into a house full of allies. Whereas a one-time event could mean more volatility, people on edge.
The mansion was enormous, pale yellow, designed in the Art Nouveau style. There were bars on the windows, but they were ornate wrought iron, making the blocked means of egress seem almost fashionable. If she was required to get out, it would need to be through a door. Or smashing through the one large window without bars. It was high and arched at the front of the house, showing off the crystal chandelier inside, though it wasn’t lit. The only light was a dim glow coming from the basement.
Why did everything have to be in a freaking basement?
Roksana reached down and massaged her sore legs, willing her limp away. On the way to the game, she’d caught sight of herself in a car window and cringed. How far the sexy had fallen. She was now a wet rat with a black eye, busted lip and no cleavage. With only minutes to go until the game was scheduled to begin, however, she would have to make do.
A red Jaguar slid into park at the curb outside the mansion, turning off its lights.
Her neck started to tingle, telling her immortals were present.
A second later, she was proven right.
Two men climbed out of the vehicle simultaneously. Sharply dressed in suits and baseball caps, moving almost in tandem, they strode up the stone walkway, both of them rapping on the door in six quick knocks, pausing, then knocking one more time.
Roksana filed that information away. Had Inessa failed to mention the knock on purpose, wanting to give her daughter a challenge? Most likely. She was always finding creative ways to make Roksana more astute. Better at her job.
The door opened and the two men disappeared inside, but before the door could shut, someone came jogging down the sidewalk, his gold chain catching the moonlight. “Hold up. Hollllld up. One more for the part-ay.”
Roksana’s eyes widened.
She knew that voice. There was rust and humor laced through every note, as well as a whopping dose of Midwestern America.
“Tucker?” she whispered, puzzled.
What the hell was Elias’s best friend doing there?
Was the vampire competing for the marriage decree or did he have other business?
If he was trying to win the decree, did that make them…enemies?
A knot formed in her throat. Dammit, she liked Tucker. Unlike her relationship with Elias—