Heart of the Devil (The Forge Trilogy #3)(39)

“I’m willing to take my chances. Will you help me?”

Dorsey peers off into the distance as she considers my request. Then her gaze swings back to me. “What do you need me to do?”





36





Forge





When I climb the steps of the cliff face, the sky is dark from the raging storm. The ride in on the chopper was rough, and we were forced to land at the airport rather than on Isla del Cielo. The rain beat down on me the entire boat ride out here, but nothing short of the apocalypse could keep me away.

Dorsey called to warn me that Indy planned a massive poker game to take place on my island. I don’t know what the hell she’s thinking, but it’s not happening without me.

When I tied up the tender at the dock, it was empty but for the other runabout we use for errands. If there’s supposed to be a giant game, where the fuck is everyone?

Did they all get ferried out and dropped off? Or did the weather keep them away?

I hurry up the stairs, and when I reach the top of the cliff, the house is lit up like it’s welcoming me home. And it was home, until I threw Indy out.

What is going through that brilliant mind of hers?

I slip inside quietly, my hair hanging wet against my face from charging the boat through the rising waves. Instead of hearing laughter and the chatter of guests in my house, I find it completely silent.

Did Dorsey lie to me? What the hell is going on?

I stride into the living room, and there’s a poker table set up where a table with a bronze Henry Moore sculpture used to sit. Two chairs sit on either side of it, and they’re both empty.

What the fuck?

Is this an intimate game for two? Who the hell is she playing? Jealousy crashes through me like a tsunami. I have no right to be jealous. I gave her up. I tore us apart.

But she came to me. To my house. That has to mean something.

“I wondered how long you’d keep me waiting, Jericho.”

My head swivels toward Indy’s voice. She leans a shoulder against the archway to the kitchen. She stands casually, like she’s not every man’s fantasy come to life in that gold dress she tossed in my face that first night at La Reina.

Goddammit. She looks fucking beautiful. Her cheekbones are sharper than they were before, and her curves aren’t as voluptuous.

Was she not eating? Why didn’t they tell me? Why didn’t her mom and sister make sure she was taking care of herself?

“Nothing to say?”

I tear my gaze off the details I’m memorizing. Why the fuck did I listen to her father? Why did I give a shit about honor?

My hands flex, needing to touch her. Being so close to her and not being able to pull her against me is fucking torture.

“What are you doing here?” My voice comes out low and harsh. I sound like a man dying for his last glimpse at the woman he could have had but gave up . . . in an attempt to be noble.

“I liked your island. It felt like home. At least, it did until I came back and you weren’t here.”

The knot in my chest that’s been strangling me for weeks loosens a fraction. Why is she here? What is her plan? I glance at the poker table, with cards in the center and chips stacked in front of both chairs.

“So you came back and decided to redecorate?” My question is cautious, because I’m not sure how this is going to go down.

A secretive smile stretches over her ruby-slicked lips. Lips I’d cut off my right fucking arm to be able to kiss again.

She pushes off the archway and strides toward the table, and my nails dig into my palms when I get a good, long look at her legs. Fuck, but I missed those legs.

Who am I kidding? There’s not a single fucking piece of her mind, body, or soul I haven’t missed.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but they’re calling me the best poker player in Europe . . . but I don’t feel like I truly claim the title yet.”

“What do you mean?”

Indy stops on the other side of the table, behind the chair. “Because you beat me, and I want a rematch. That’s the only way I’ll know I’m the best.”

The hope growing inside me disappears like a ship in the fog. “That’s what this is about? You went through all this trouble . . . to prove you’re the best?”

Her smile turns predatory as she grips the wooden back of the chair. “Also because it’ll be financially beneficial to me.”

Indy throws my own words at me, and I stare at her as my brain races. This isn’t about a poker game. This is about us.

“Financially beneficial. Sounds familiar.”

“So, what do you say? Will you play me?” The question carries a wealth of challenge.

I walk around the table, past the seat I assume is mine, and she releases her grip on hers as I close the distance between us. I grasp the back of her chair and pull it out, leaning forward to inhale her scent. Citrus and sun and sea. It makes me go hard as a rock as I meet her gaze.

“I’ll accept any challenge you throw at me, India. If you want to play, we play.”





37





India





When he stops beside me, I almost lose my composure.

There’s nothing I want to do more than throw myself at him and tell him I don’t give a fuck about titles or games or anything but him, but I can’t. I have a plan, and I’m going to follow it.