Mae glanced at Rogue. “Is this true?”
Rogue grabbed his own glass off the bar top, giving it a slight shake as he brushed off Mae’s question. “Details,” he mumbled.
“Details, my arse,” Solomon said. He signaled the bartender for another round. The bartender made to grab him another glass, but Solomon waved him away. “I don’ need another cup that’s damn fine china, you fool.” The bartender mumbled his apologies while he fetched the bottle again.
Solomon eyed the bartender, refusing to look away. “’E was like an alley cat back then. All snarly and feral. Just look at ’im now.” He grinned at Rogue again. The dark color of his teeth was made even more questionable in the casino lights. “Was covered in blood when I found ’im, since this was still fresh.” Solomon tapped Rogue twice on the scarred side of his face.
Rogue’s hand clenched into a fist at his side as Solomon eased back to look at him.
The alpha wolf wrinkled his nose. “Pity the other side’s so pretty, isn’t it?” he said to Mae.
Rogue growled, but Solomon paid no mind.
“Well, you didn’t come ’ere just to look at my ’andsome mug now, so what game will it be then?” Solomon clapped his hands together, rubbing them back and forth eagerly.
“Lady’s choice.” Rogue nodded toward Mae. He was thankful for them to finally be getting down to business. As much as he would ever feel good about doing any kind of business with Solomon.
Mae glanced around the casino, feigning an inability to decide, though Rogue knew she already had a plan in store. “I like blackjack.”
Solomon grinned. He clapped his hands together again. “Poker it is then,” he roared. Within seconds, he was headed off toward the poker tables, cracked glass of whiskey in hand. He mumbled something unintelligible as he went, which might have been about hating blackjack.
Mae gaped after him. “He’s…”
“Mad as a fucking loon,” Rogue growled. “I tried to warn you. Don’t let him fool you, though. The only thing more dangerous than a sociopath like him is a stark, raving mad one.”
“I guess I’ll be playing cards with a murderer then.” She turned to walk toward the poker tables, but Rogue caught her by the hand.
“He changed the stakes. You can’t count cards in poker.”
“I know that, but I’m more than decent,” Mae challenged. “It’s still game theory.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Jared said. “But we can back out now. No one would blame you.”
“And risk the lives of the only wolves we both call family? Allow the vampires to destroy either me or our kind before we finally find the antidote?” She quirked a brow. “Not a chance. It’s my blood the vampires want for their serum, no one else’s, so I plan to see this through. I came here to play, and I intend to win. It’s more than just the fate of my own pack riding on this. I’m no coward.” She eased away from him, striding toward the poker tables in heels that would have made some women less graceful.
But on her, they didn’t.
Rogue growled as he stormed after her. His resolve in his own plans only hardened with each stubborn step she took. Murtagh was wrong. Mae would be fine once all was said and done. She was built of stronger stuff than she let on. She was brave, resilient. Rogue knew her, perhaps better than anyone, and she was cut from far tougher cloth than most.
Princess indeed…
Chapter 21
Poker. The murderous bastard wanted to play poker. Mae strode toward the poker tables, drink in hand, her heels jabbing into the plush carpet with each angry step. She hadn’t expected to feel so much hatred and anger toward Walker Solomon, but the moment he’d sauntered up to the bar, she’d been hit with the full force of her rage.
Not only had he killed one of her pack members in cold blood, but he was the sole wolf standing between her and the fate of their species. If he had even an ounce of loyalty to his kind, she and Rogue wouldn’t have to work for the information. The antidote would save the lives of thousands of pack and rogue wolves alike, but Solomon didn’t give one flying fuck. He only cared about how he could benefit.
And that meant he was not only a cold-hearted killer but also a selfish, disloyal bastard.
Mae slid into the seat across from Solomon at the poker table. The casino owner was babbling at the dealer—something about cutting the deck wrong—in between gulps of whiskey. A woman stood behind him, one arm draped over Solomon’s shoulders.
She was curvy and dark and more feminine than Mae could ever dream to be. Her hands massaged Solomon’s shoulders, long, red nails digging in. Her deep-brown eyes followed Mae until adrenaline coursed through her, but it eased when she felt Rogue’s dark presence guarding her back. She might have been frustrated with him—hurt that he hadn’t told her about his familiarity with Solomon—but she knew without a doubt he’d protect her.
He had before.
The dealer laid down a row of cards.
“What are the stakes?” Mae asked. She wanted the terms spelled out ahead of time. No way would she let Solomon back out.
Solomon grinned, crooked, stained teeth undercutting his handsome features. “We both know why you’re here, don’t we, Roguey old boy?”
Mae felt Rogue tense behind her. His large hand squeezed her shoulder.
When Rogue didn’t respond, Solomon leaned back in his chair, sweeping his arms wide until all the cards fluttered off the table. “Fifty-two pickup.” He smiled. “Next time, cut the cards right,” he said, forcing the dealer to collect them and deal the round again. Solomon’s features hardened as he turned back toward them. “Come now, Roguey. You going to stand there all night or tell your bitch to move?” Solomon gestured toward Mae.
Rogue snarled, but Mae placed her hand over his. “You’ll be playing against me.”
Solomon laughed, long and loud. Long enough to make the moment even more uncomfortable. When he finally quieted, he was shaking his head with that putrid grin across his lips. “Like ’ell I will. It behooves me to play against Roguey ’ere. He’s shit for poker. Always has been. That’s why I chose it, and you may be a pretty little piece, but there’ll be no Grey Wolves sitting at my table.”
Mae’s heart stopped. She had to fight to keep her face straight. Rogue had warned her that Solomon wasn’t an easy man to pull one over on. That with his reputation, he might recognize her, but she hadn’t realized how much that would unnerve her. If they failed against Solomon, the blowback might come against her packmates.
Solomon chuckled. He glanced over his shoulder toward the she-wolf at his back. “Did ye see that, Sophia? She didn’t think I’d know she’s a Grey Wolf, did she?” He laughed.
Sophia forced a smile as she nodded.
Solomon glanced at Mae as he continued to speak to the woman behind him. “Spitting image of her brother. Same eyes—less ’airy though—and she thinks I’m daft enough not to realize.” His laughter faded into a moment of calm.
Without warning, Solomon knocked over his chair, diving for Sophia. He gripped her by the face and throat, fingers digging in so hard they would leave bruises.
Mae jumped from her chair, surging forward.
“No.” Rogue caught her by the arms, hauling her backward. “React and he’ll kill her and you too,” he hissed into Mae’s ear. When that failed to calm her, he snarled. “She’s not his true target, Mae.”
Sophia held Mae’s gaze, dark eyes wide with fear. It took everything in Mae not to go to her, to try to save her. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know her. She could have been a killer herself or Mae’s most hated ex-friend—it didn’t matter. She would have tried to save her.
But the trembling fear deep inside her gut told her Rogue was right.
Solomon’s voice remained calm, eerily so, despite the rage blazing in his eyes. “What do I think of she-wolves who think I’m daft, Sophia?” he aske
d.
Sophia swallowed hard, unable to answer.
Mae couldn’t take it. She shook with the weight of the other woman’s fear.
When Sophia didn’t answer, Solomon gave her a rough shake, tightening the hand around her throat until the veins in his arm strained.
Sophia whimpered as her face began to turn red.
Mae shook with rage, held back only by Rogue’s strength.
Releasing the woman’s throat enough that she could speak, Solomon growled. “What do I think of that, Sophia?”
Sophia’s lip quivered as she gasped for air. “You think those she-wolves end up dead,” she whispered. She stared straight into Mae’s eyes, making the threat clear.
It wasn’t Sophia who would die at Solomon’s hands.
Rogue gripped Mae’s shoulders, fortifying her, giving her strength.
“Right,” Solomon said, his tone suddenly upbeat again, as if they were talking about the weather. He gave Sophia a gentle tap on the cheek before he released her.
Sophia stumbled back, clutching her throat.
Mae opened her mouth to tell Solomon exactly where he could shove it when Rogue pulled her into his arms, clutching her against him in a way that stopped her breath short. “I think I need another drink before we start,” he announced out of nowhere. “You don’t mind, do you, Solomon?” It was less of a question and more of a statement.
Considering the violent display they’d just seen, Mae admired the bravery in that.
“If you’ll excuse us.” Rogue gripped Mae to his side, ushering her toward the bar again.
Once they were out of earshot, Mae rounded on him. “How could you stand there like that while he manhandled her?”
“One wrong move and he would’ve killed her without even blinking—and you too.”
Mae growled. She knew that, but she didn’t have to like it. For once, she’d wanted him to be the dark, nefarious Rogue. She wouldn’t have blinked twice if he’d chosen to end Solomon then and there—preferably with his bare hands.
“And what now?” She shook her head. “You’re shit at poker. Solomon said so.”
Rogue frowned. “I may be shit at poker, but I’m a damn fine cheat.”
Mae was still shaking her head. “Even if I could count cards for you, it wouldn’t help. In poker, you can’t—”
“Mae,” Rogue interrupted. His eyes flicked behind the bar top, where a backsplash mirror reflected the view of the casino.
And Solomon’s back.
Mae’s eyes widened. If she positioned herself correctly, she’d be able to see directly into Solomon’s hand.
Mae grinned. “You really are a wicked criminal, aren’t you?”
“I may not be as bloodthirsty as Solomon,” Rogue smirked. “But I’m as wicked as they come.”
A few minutes later, after they’d devised a code and a plan, Mae sat at the bar top, watching Rogue make his way back to the poker tables. It was just him and Solomon now. Sophia had disappeared. Mae hoped she’d scurried off to safety somewhere.
Mae watched the two rogue wolves in the backsplash mirror as they laid down their blinds. She clutched another glass of whiskey in her hand, her finger poised on the side to tap or circle the rim in a specific pattern accordingly. Rogue could see her hands reflected in the mirror edge from where she was positioned behind Solomon, and she had a straight view into the bloodthirsty casino owner’s hands.
The two rogue wolves picked up their cards. Solomon’s first hand wasn’t impressive. Only a pair of twos. Mae tapped the result out on her glass.
Adrenaline gripped her stomach into knots. This hadn’t been their original plan, but if it worked, they’d finally be able to move forward. Mae held her breath as the two wolves bet their chips. Rogue laid down a pair of fives. He’d won the first round.
Mae continued to tap out Solomon’s hand onto her glass, her confidence increasing with each consecutive round. Occasionally, Rogue threw a hand to make it realistic. Each round won brought them one step closer to the antidote, one step closer to saving her pack, her family, the rogue wolves.
One step closer to freedom.
Until a smooth, purring voice pulled her from her thoughts. “You’re making a mistake.”
Mae twisted on her barstool to find Sophia staring back at her. The other woman held a martini glass in her hand filled with pink liquid, something fruity like a cosmo.
Mae’s eyes darted to her neck, where the bruises left by Solomon’s rough hands had already begun to form. It undermined Sophia’s image as a well-kept beauty.
“I’m not sure what you mean.” Mae trained her eyes on the other woman, forcing herself not to glance toward the backsplash mirror. Rogue would likely lose this hand without her guidance, and it might take them a few more rounds to regain composure, but it’d be worth it in the long run if she could get Sophia off their trail.
She may have been a victim of Solomon’s violence, but Mae knew enough about abusers to know that Sophia might be loyal to Solomon all the same. Mae knew from experience that until Buck attacked Jared, she never would have told anyone all the ways in which her uncle had hurt her. She’d been too scared of disappointing her parents, ruining and destroying her family, and she’d been so young that her pedophilic asshole of an uncle had done a damn fine job of convincing her that his abuse was her fault.
She knew better now.
Sophia shook her head before she drew a long sip of her drink. From the fire in her eyes, she wasn’t buying Mae’s denial for a second. “You think you’re the first wolf to come in here and try to cheat against him?”
Mae schooled her features, forcing herself to remain calm. She wouldn’t allow her body language to give her away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just enjoying my drink.” She lifted her glass toward the other woman before she sipped the fiery liquid.
“I’m no fool.” Sophia shook her head. “You’ve been sitting here for the past hour signaling his cards.”
Mae set her whiskey down on the bar top with more force than she intended. “Are you sure you don’t need to see a doctor, Sophia? Those bruises on your neck might just be the beginning of your injuries.” She didn’t like referencing the other woman’s abuse, but she needed to catch her off guard, and Mae had no doubt that what Solomon had done to Sophia earlier was only the tip of the iceberg.
There was pain in Sophia’s face that Mae recognized all too well. She’d seen it on her own face every night as a preteen, after her uncle would leave her bedroom.
Before Jared had given her the strength to save herself…
If only she’d known in that moment what it would cost him.
A pang of sadness filled her chest for the boy who’d sacrificed everything for her, who’d given his life to protect her and ensure her happiness.
Sleeping with the enemy or not, Mae hoped Sophia would either find a Jared—or a Rogue—of her own to save her or find the courage to leave. She empathized with the other woman, loyal to Solomon or not. She really did.
Seemingly unfazed by the comment, Sophia set her drink down on the bar top beside Mae’s. She eased closer, lowering her voice to barely above a whisper. “Even if you win, he’ll still kill you.”
Mae shook her head. “Solomon can make his own threats. He doesn’t need you to do it for him.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Sophia agreed. “But you’re still making a mistake.” She picked up her drink again. “I can’t allow this to happen. Not on my watch.” She turned to head toward the poker table.
Adrenaline coursed through Mae’s veins, sending her into a panic. As the other woman started to walk away, she struggled to find something, anything to stop her.
“He won’t stop, you know.” They were the first words out of her mouth.
Sophia paused.
“You can beg him, plead with him
to stop hurting you, but he won’t,” Mae said. “Not while you’re still within his reach.” She knew that. Her uncle never would have stopped hurting her, at least not until she was old enough that she no longer interested him.
Monsters like that didn’t know the meaning of the word stop, didn’t care about a woman’s pain. They thrived on it. As far as Mae was concerned, they were less redeemable than a cold-blooded killer would ever be, because they didn’t just cause others pain; they enjoyed it.
Sophia’s shoulders tensed. Her back was still turned toward Mae, as she refused to turn and look at her.
“You don’t owe him any loyalty,” Mae challenged. “There’re people who can help you. I can help you. Rogue can too.”
Sophia inhaled a deep breath. Mae thought the other woman might not answer, that she might walk away without another word. But she didn’t.
She cast Mae a glance over her shoulder. “There’s a Grey Wolf. He’s half coyote. His name’s Austin. Do you know him?”
The question caught Mae off guard. Austin was one of the Grey Wolves’ eight elite warriors. Before her long-lost cousin Dr. Belle Beaumont had come into the picture, Austin had served as the Grey Wolves’ only medic. Like all the elite warriors, he was practically a brother to her.
Tentatively, Mae nodded. She wasn’t certain how to answer since she didn’t know where Sophia was going with this. “Yeah, I know him. Why?”
From the way she said it, the question seemed to carry more meaning than Sophia was letting on, but Mae couldn’t decipher what that meaning was.
Sophia must have recognized this, because she released a long sigh. “Tell him I said hello then. From an old friend,” she said, stressing that final word.
Mae quirked a brow.
Friend?
Sophia moved to step away, but Mae dove and caught her by the wrist.
“Please,” she pleaded. “Don’t do this.”
For the sake of our species. For yourself.
Wicked Cowboy Wolf Page 25