[schwann]

She was trembling. For a minute Jack considered simply cutting her loose. She wasn’t his problem. But blue eyes tugged at him, bloody gallant fool that he was. Well there was more than one way to gamble.

Jack barely moved his lips. “Follow my lead.” Then more loudly he said, “So Shark Silverton sent you?”

“Wha—?”

“I asked if Shark sent you!” Jack thundered.

The girl sat up straight. She didn’t understand, but to Jack’s relief she didn’t lose her head.

“Yes,” she said clearly. “Yes he did.”

At this, most of the room drew away, claws retracting. Jack let out a sigh of relief. Shark Silverton was notorious for thinking up “inventive” ways to kill a man. No one crossed Shark except for daring gamblers or incredible fools, like Jack. Jack had heard that acid was Shark’s new favorite. So long as people thought this lamb was connected to Shark, she should be safe, at least for the moment.

The change in atmosphere was perceptible, even to this lamb, and she said quietly, “Thank you. My….”

Everything stopped. Sam stood at the bar with a mixer in mid-shake; Scarlet was on a man’s lap, the special smile carved on her face; lazy smoke curled solidly in the air from half a dozen cigarettes. Time had frozen to ice.

The door clicked shut, but the bell didn’t tinkle.

Jack pounded a fist on the table.

“About bloody time Vlade!”

In entered a man in an expensive black suit looking thoroughly forgettable. Vlade was as out of place as the girl was, only in his case, he seemed to emanate blandness. He wasn’t very tall and had black, neatly combed hair with mild dark eyes. Nothing about him stood out. Vlade could strip naked in a church, and probably no one would remember his skinny white ass by the end of service. Vlade was one of those people whose appearance you couldn’t remember, but would recognize the instant you saw it again. It was because of Vlade that Jack was back here at all, risking his life; it was because of Vlade that he hadn’t kicked it four years ago in some dumpster.

“Hello Mr. Landers,” said Vlade. He pulled over a chair and sat down at Jack’s table. He glanced at the girl, who might as well have been a mannequin with stunning blue eyes. “Your new girlfriend?”

“Like hell,” Jack snapped. “Just met her tonight. And by next morning she’ll be dead, or worse. Nothing to do with me!”

Vlade didn’t comment. He pulled an envelope out of his pocket, and drew a blank card out of the envelope.

“The usual conditions. You win the bet. You get one wish. You lose the bet. I take you to Hell.”

“Yeah, right. What’s the gumball this time Vlade?”

Vlade held up a silver coin.

Jack raised an eyebrow.

“You’re kidding. After the crap I went through last time?”

Vlade shrugged. “Heads or tails?”

“One second. Let me see that.”

Vlade handed over the coin to Jack who inspected it to make sure it wasn’t doubled-faced or weighted to one side. Not that Jack expected it would be. Every bet he’d made with Vlade had been as clean as any wager could be. Still, Jack Landers might be a fool for pretty eyes, but only those who deserved early graves let themselves be suckered in when it mattered.

The coin was a silver American Eagle. Round, perfect, and legit.

“I should remind you that you are free to walk away,” said Vlade, as if the whole affair were of no importance to him. You’d have thought he was simply bored, only too polite to show it.

Jack grunted in acknowledgment.

That was the trick to gambling…walking away while you were ahead. Jack could walk away, but where was the fun in that? And where else could he get a deal like this?. Ah hell, Jack thought, all men die in the end, and I’m going to Hell either way.

“I call tails.”

Vlade nodded.

“Mind if I do the honors?”

“Please,” Vlade acquiesced politely.

A rush of ecstasy surged through Jack’s veins. This was when he truly lived—Jack Landers, the gambler, and everything, everything on the line.

Jack tossed the coin—the golden strings of Fate tug at every spin, knotting around his soul, sure as steel—it could have been a second, or eternity could have mooned her ass for all he knew. Would he win? Was tonight the night? Jack could taste victory, and smell defeat. They were two sides of the same coin.

The silver Eagle came down. Reality snapped in as Jack slapped the coin on the back of his hand. The clear ring of silver still quivered in the air.

Jack looked over at Vlade. He removed his hand.

It was tails.

Not a hint of disappointment showed on Vlade’s face. Jack felt his heart hammering as though it were running on pure crack.

“Congratulations on another win, Mr. Landers. Your record is quite impressive. That makes it five years running. I don’t believe I’ve ever had another client last this long before.”

Jack didn’t answer immediately. He leaned back, taking in the moment. He had walked the line again…and had survived. Nothing compared to that moment of truth. Drugs or sex didn’t come close.

“I’m lucky, but you’re bound to win sooner or later,” said Jack, feeling the sweat on his palms. “You’re the house.”

“Indeed,” Vlade began scribbling on the card. “However, you can always walk away.”

Jack barked a rough laugh. Exhilaration made his voice ragged.

“Have you ever met another man who could?”

“There’s always a first,” Vlade said smoothly. He pushed the card across the table with his fingertips and laid down the pen. “Your winnings, Mr. Landers. What will you wish for this time?”

Jack picked up the pen and set the nib against the card.

And he stopped.

He had decided on his wish well in advance. This was supposed to be the last time. Jack Landers was a gambler, but he had come out on top far more than he had a right to. He wanted out. He had promised himself that this was the last time. He was walking away. He…

…he looked into a pair of frozen eyes, like blue crystals. They held no hope…and so much fear.

Ah crap.

Jack wrote it down, the wish he’d won by betting his soul, and thrust the card back across the table.

“I’m keeping the pen.”

Vlade read the card impassively.

“You are certain about this?”

“Dead sure,” said Jack.

“Fascinating,” said Vlade, stuffing the card back into the black envelope, “that you sacrifice your wish for a girl.”

“She doesn’t belong here,” growled Jack. “Even if she survives, she’ll just become another whore. If she’s lucky, she’ll become something like Scarlet. If she isn’t lucky….”

Jack shrugged. There was no need to say it.

Vlade tucked the envelope back into his pocket; he cocked an eyebrow at Jack.

“How touching. I didn’t think you cared.”

Jack opened his mouth to say that he didn’t care, but then shut it with a click of teeth. He cared. Bloody blue eyes.

“A gambler’s law, my friend,” said Jack. “A gambler’s highest freaking law.”

“Oh?”

“Everything in life’s a gamble.” Jack polished off his martini and got to his feet. “If that’s the case, it might as well be about a pretty woman.”

And he left Vlade sitting there. Before the sun batted its eyelashes at the rotten city, Jack Landers could no longer be found in Old Eve.