The Nymph's Curse: The Collection (72 page)

“Give me that fucking thing.” Dr. Redbird pulled the phone from Harper’s hand and dropped it into her purse. “I don’t need anyone getting any goddamn ideas. All I want is the drugs. What’s so hard about this?”

Did Dr. Redbird understand the link? Did she know the missing requirement for carrying to term?

The elevator dinged and the car came to a stop at the thirty-fifth floor leading to the penthouse. She needed to get away from the doctor. She couldn’t give the woman the drugs.

“I already know what you’re missing,” Harper said, attempting to entice Dr. Redbird away from her objective.

“What are you talking about?”

If Harper told the woman what she knew, she would be putting Chance in danger. Without a doubt the woman would go after him, taking what she needed to get what she desired. But Harper couldn’t think of any way around this … She had a choice — give up Starling or give up Chance.

He had trusted her. He would never trust her again if she told his secret, but there was no other way. She couldn’t let Starling’s last lifeline, her drugs, be taken by this mad vulture-woman. Harper loved Chance, but she couldn’t leave Starling with nothing. She’d made the girl a promise.

“If you let me keep the GX 149 in my possession, I have something else, something better, I can offer in its place.”

“What do you mean?” Dr. Redbird eyed her suspiciously. “The medication worked. Starling is proof of that. Why would I want anything else?”

“But the drugs didn’t work for Jenna. And there’s a reason. Even if I give you the drugs, they aren’t going to work, but if you let me keep them I will help you.”

The elevator door opened. Sticking out her foot, Dr. Redbird held open the door and stared at the penthouse’s door.

“I want the GX 149. Dr. McDougal told me there was no more — you had the only supply left. I can’t go back without them. They won’t stop looking until I get them.”

Harper shuddered as she wondered who
they
were. Dr. Redbird made it sound like she was the one who wanted the drugs, but were there others? Were others behind her search? Was that why she had become so desperate?

The world seemed to clear around her. Dr. Redbird wasn’t acting alone.

“I know you need the drugs. But if you give me time, maybe I can replicate the chemical compounds — that way we all have what we need. That’s what Dr. McDougal and I were working on before … before you killed him.”

The woman stuffed her hands around her body like a petulant child. “He knew the cost of his defiance. And you should know too. If you are lying to me, or if you try to deceive me, I will not only kill you, but I’ll kill your friends as well.”

Not if Harper could kill the doctor first. “I get it, but I’m not trying to defy you, I’m only trying to help you,” she lied. “Are you going to leave the drugs with me and let me do my research? Or are you willing to risk it all?”

“If I take the drugs, I risk nothing and I get what I want.”

“For now. But what happens if you don’t get pregnant right away? You killed the only other person besides me who can help you get more. You’ll just end up where you started — frustrated, and unable to have a baby.”

As the words sank in, the woman’s face tightened. “Shut up,” Dr. Redbird scowled. “Just give me the drugs. There’s no way you can help me. If you knew the secret, you would have helped your sister instead of letting her get killed. Don’t think you will get away with playing me for some kind of fool.”

Grabbing Harper, the woman shoved her out of the elevator. “Go get me the drugs. Now. No more screwing around.”

No one got away with touching her like that — least of all the little vulture-shifter. “Fine.”

Harper reached into her purse and drew out the penthouse key and slid it into the lock. The woman couldn’t get the drugs. She couldn’t threaten the people Harper cared about. She couldn’t win.

The door opened with a click.

Harper walked through the doorway toward the overstuffed gold chairs. The door slammed shut behind her. The noise echoed through the room and Harper turned with a start. Standing behind the door, to the doctor’s right, was a man. He rushed at Dr. Redbird, setting her off balance as he drove his shoulder into her chest. She flew backward into the small table by the door with a surprised, garbled scream. The vase of fresh cut flowers flew from the table and crashed, spreading glass and water like sparkling tears across the hardwood floor.

Amongst the spray of tears was Dr. Redbird’s purse. Dr. McDougal’s manila envelope, the key to Starling’s future, stuck out of the top. Harper stepped over and grabbed the envelope and stuck it under her arm.

She moved to stand as she noticed, in the middle of a pile of broken glass, the small white syringe. Almost in a trance, Harper stepped over to the needle, barely noticing the wrestling bodies behind her.

Through the thin plastic of the syringe, a small bubble wiggled its way to the top, struggling as it tried to break from its trap. Picking up the syringe, she pulled the orange cap from its tip and stared at the sharp point of the instrument. It was so small. This thing in her hands seemed almost innocuous, so unlikely to hurt, but she knew the truth. Dr. Redbird had killed and she wouldn’t stop killing until she got what she wanted. There was no end to the pain she would inflict if she got her way. There was only one way to stop a mad woman like her.

Harper turned back. The man was on top of Dr. Redbird, his dark hair fell into his sweat-covered face. Dr. Redbird reached up and drew her nails down his face. “You bitch,” he yelled, pushing down her hand, he wrapped his leg around hers and flipped her over in one clean motion. Jerking her hands behind her back, he reached down to his waist and pulled out a zip tie. Blood rose from the gashes on his cheek and started to descend down the tan skin of his young, early-twenties face.

“Jasper?” Harper moved toward the pair.

“What are you doing?” the young man asked, wrapping the zip tie around Dr. Redbird’s wrists and pulling it tight.

“She has to die.”

He looked at the woman who lay between his legs. “The sisterhood wants her to live. They don’t want a war.”

“No one is going to fight for this woman. She’s evil.” Harper took another step and raised the needle like it was a knife and she only needed to let it plunge.

Dr. Redbird twisted under his legs and looked back toward Harper. “You slut. You and your kind are going to pay for this. If you kill me, I vow that every last Catharterian will come after you and your little Starling.” She jerked and looked back at the man. “You assholes are nothing.”

“Give me the needle.” The man stuck out his hand.

Harper let the needle lower. “She needs to die. She can’t be trusted. If we don’t kill her now she will never quit coming after us.”

“You need to trust me.” He pointed at the needle. “Give it to me.”

The glass crunched under Harper’s feet as she took the last step. Jasper pulled the needle from her fingers.

He lowered the needle. Its silver tip plunged into the dilated vein protruding from the woman’s reddened neck.

“No!” Dr. Redbird thrashed between the man’s legs, but his muscle-riddled body tensed and held the woman in place. He pushed the plunger down. The bubble in the liquid moved downward and disappeared, passing from one death trap to another.

The cards were falling Chance’s way, but it seemed like however he played he couldn’t get ahead — something was wrong. The men had to be cheating, as Mr. Blackwater had assumed. There was no way, with Chance’s luck, that he could be losing so badly. Reaching forward, Chance picked up two ten thousand dollar chips and posted the small blind. Vice followed, posting the twenty thousand dollar big blind.

The dealer picked up the cards and dealt out the remaining three players’ two pocket cards. Vice’s aviator sunglasses reflected the lights as he leaned forward and lifted the corner of his cards. He glanced in Chance’s direction and his body tensed.

As the man pulled his hands back from his pocket cards, his fingers tapped on the felt table. If he hadn’t been watching, Chance would have certainly missed the signal. He glanced over toward Nate. He was leaning back in his chair a smug grin on his face, but they hadn’t gotten away with anything. “I’ll play. Call,” Nate said, setting a twenty thousand dollar stack out to match the big blind.

By most standards the bet would have been questionable, but the bet was enough to make Chance wonder what Nate held in his pocket cards. If it had been nothing, the bet would have been smaller. Whatever Nate held, and his partner had signaled, was enough to make him feel confident to play the round.

The doors to the room opened a little wider and Harper squeezed through the mass of bystanders who crowded the doorway. Behind her walked a dark-haired man with deep scratches down his cheek, which he tried to cover with even darker sunglasses, almost matching the ones often worn by poker players. The man was up to something. Chance could see it in his stride, almost like he was the boss, except he looked as if he waited for the hammer to fall.

Harper had only been supposed to meet Dr. McDougal and get the drugs. This man didn’t seem like the doctor type. Instead he seemed more like the type that Chance needed to worry about — the type who would steal the woman he loved. If he hadn’t been required to sit there and play the hand, if he hadn’t been trying to help out the gaming commissioner by taking down the two men who shared the table, he would have been at her side in an instant.

Kodie caught his gaze and Chance motioned toward Harper and the unwelcome stranger at her side. Kodie made a beeline to the pair.

“She’s a fine piece of ass, Take-a-Chance,” Three-Eyed Nate said with a grating laugh as he motioned toward Harper. “I don’t know what she would be doing here, looking at you like that.”

“She’s not here for me.”

Chance caught Harper’s gaze. Her mouth formed into words, but he couldn’t understand what she tried to say.

“What’re you gonna do, Take-a-Chance? Monitor traffic all day long? Or are you gonna bet?” Nate signaled the dealer. “Let’s play the clock here. I know it’s hard to make up your mind when you aren’t the best.”

He lifted the corner of his cards exposing the ace of hearts and king of hearts, which rested in his pocket hand. The cards couldn’t be any better, but it all would depend on the flop. Even if the other men were cheating, he still had a chance to win and make the damn cheaters wish they’d never tried to tip him over.

“Call,” Chance said, as he laid another ten thousand dollars into the pot, matching the bet of the players around him. He tried to play it cool and not tip them off to the potentially lethal blow his hand could deliver. He needed to wait for the moment to strike.

“Call.” Vice scratched the tip of his nose. Everything the man did, every action he took, seemed unnatural, almost forced. The men in security and the pit bosses had to be seeing what was going on.

Chance had seen cheaters before, but these cheaters were highly skilled. Watching them in action it was tough to tell exactly what was happening, and had he not been tipped off, he would have probably been just like Kodie, falling victim to their entrapment.

The dealer burned a card, then started to deal the flop cards.

Ten of hearts. Perfect, only two more well-placed hearts and he would have the best hand in poker.

Ace of diamonds. Diamonds were said to be a girl’s best friend, but in this case they were his. At the very least, if all the other cards fell through, he now sat on a high pair of aces.

The dealer flipped the last card. Jack of spades. A little of his hope drifted away into the black pool of ink that littered the card.

He would need two more hearts to have a flush and maybe the power position. He had a strong hand, but for a moment he considered folding. The two cheaters could have the table to themselves, bidding away against each other. He could use the time to his advantage, waiting until the moment one pushed the other out of the game. But it would cost him. He’d have to keep posting the blinds. It would get expensive.

He placed a chip on his pocket cards. “Check.” If he didn’t bet big, he could watch the men and gauge the cards in their hands. They wanted his money, they wanted to beat him, but were they willing to put themselves at risk in doing it?

Vice’s lips twitched, almost in disgust. “Check.”

Three-Eyed Nate’s buggy little third eye scrunched as he scowled. “Bunch of chicken shits, I see.” He motioned to the dealer. “Check.”

The pair must have been waiting to see what the turn would bring, waiting to see if they could keep him in the game.

The dealer burned a card and turned over the turn card. Queen of hearts. The true gauge of a great poker player was their ability to forecast what was in the other players’ hands. And right now, the best either of the other players could hope for was a straight, or they could be going for the heart flush as well. Who held the winning hand would all come down to the river.

Vice and Nate had the advantage of watching Chance’s bet to gauge the power of his hand — and they could bet accordingly. But this was also his opportunity to take control of the table and draw on the pair’s greed, by making them think he had a questionable hand.

Chance needed to set himself up for the bluff in the next round of betting. “Check.” If they wanted his money, they were going to have to come after it.

He could sense Vice’s icy gaze on him, checking him for weakness. “I’ll bet forty thousand.” His chips clicked as he placed them into neat stacks in the center of the table.

“Is that how you’re gonna play, Chance?” Nate chided. “A little weak for you, ain’t it?”

He smiled. “Gotta take a ride on the river, you know how it is.”

“No, I don’t know
how it is
. I’ll raise your bet, Vice … Another sixty thousand.” Nate took a stack of chips and counted out a hundred thousand dollars.

Chance’s gut clenched.

“I’ll call your bet and raise you another twenty thousand.” He refused to let his fingers tremble in excitement and nervousness as he counted one hundred and twenty thousand dollars in chips. The little stack looked unimpressive, but added to the pot, it made it clear how much this hand could come to matter.