"Come on in."
The door creaked open.
Qiren didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't this—
A woman opened the door with one hand, her face done with makeup to match his own. She looked at him, then at the room. Bodies lay everywhere.
She gasped—one heated breath, then a cold inhale.
"You really did a number on them."
Missy said it while looking at Swift's machete-torn abdomen and Michael's split skull.
"They attacked me first,"
Qiren lied, tilting his head as he looked her up and down. "Why don't you have a seat?"
She took a breath, then closed the door behind her, even though its weighted frame would have closed on its own.
"Thank you very much for giving me such a privilege." She walked over, swaying her hips under his gaze. She didn't know if he was interested in charm, but a little seductiveness never hurt anyone.
She took the seat directly opposite him and set down the laptop she'd carried in. She breathed in and out, turned the device toward him, then opened it. Her voice leaked into a squeal.
"I'm your biggest fan! Please sign my smart computer!!!"
She held out a knife with both hands. Her eyes squeezed shut as she went bold—this was a one-in-a-hundred chance it worked, or she got eaten.
Please work. Please.
"I've been a fan since thirty minutes ago," she admitted. "The rush I got watching you move freely was beyond anything I've felt. Racing, outwitting cops, or other criminals can't even compare. The difference between them doesn't compare to watching you toy with your victims—or the brutality of your kills."
She looked up with reverence. "I saw how you played with that guard, letting him run until exhaustion." Her lips parted in a smile as she turned to the machete impaling Swift. "Letting him taste hope before you stole it away."
"He was frightened, but it didn't satisfy you yet, did it?" She turned back, raving, her lungs straining for air. "You knew he was still pretending to have control, so you dropped him a gun, setting up a new game—a staring contest.
"I watched how easily he failed to realize his eyes had lowered until it was too late, and you claimed your prize."
She panted, her chest heaving. "It was a shame you didn't continue to play more games with them—and that's my biggest regret. Because if I hadn't hidden my cameras… or if I'd hidden them better, I could've watched how you continued your games for much longer while I stayed intertwined with it all."
Ha… hahahaha.
Qiren's laughter filled the room.
"Haha… ha. To think a man like me would get such a lovely admirer." He chuckled. "Fine. I'll give you an autograph. For a fan showing me such admiration, I won't kill you outright."
He took the knife, slashed the screen, then stabbed into the keyboard.
Then he swept his arm to the side, sliding the laptop across the desk and sending it to the floor along with the monitor.
"There's your signature."
"All it's missing is the blood of a contestant to mark this piece of mine." He twirled Missy's knife and pointed it back at her.
His eyes slit into crescents.
"C.C. has two decks of cards in his office, so how about we play matching? That'll give you one final wave of excitement before you pass on—or win and get to live."
He opened his eyes and smiled sincerely, acting as if he hadn't just threatened her life.
Missy stared at him, then smiled. "Do you want me to fetch the decks~?"
"Won't you be a dear," he cooed.
She stood and stepped over the mess of electronics on the floor. "Will it still work after that fall?" she asked herself as she passed her laptop. Oh well. Missy opened the bottom drawers.
She searched for the playing cards.
"Here they are," she purred, glancing sideways at him.
Qiren nodded. "There are blue, black, and red pens somewhere in there too. The black ones are in the bottom drawer. I just don't know where the others are~"
He lied without missing a beat, knowing very well there weren't any pens in there. He crossed his legs and rolled his chair back for a better view.
Missy obliviously continued her search.
Qiren sank back into the comfortable leather, his attention drifting from her hands down to her shorts. His eyes traced her panty straps pulled over her hips.
The black straps dragged his gaze lower until he found himself gawking at her from behind.
Was it inappropriate?
Yes.
Did he care about his image?
No. What image would he protect as a jester and a demon? Besides, what was so wrong about wanting to watch a well-endowed gangstress search through a few drawers?
So why not enjoy what was presented to its fullest?
"You know, I thought you'd be more scared of my offer."
"What can I say? You won my heart over with your first performance. Now I want to see what else you have in store. I also said I wanted to see more of your games—I can't complain now that I'm on the other side of the screen."
Missy said it while searching for the nonexistent pen. "I can't find anything. Are you sure there were pens in here?"
Qiren laughed, stabbing the knife he was playing with into the desk, freeing his fingers to pull her across his lap.
"Not a single one," he admitted, opening the drawer to his left. "Your former boss kept his stationery separate from the other drawers."
Missy felt his arm caress her thigh and glanced at his black glove. "So you tricked me for no reason. How tricky~"
She stood back on her feet and opened the pack of cards, facing away from him.
Qiren didn't mind her leaving—he got a better view.
"Spread the cards face up," he said, burning her rear into memory. He stood, giving up his perfect seat, and picked up a pen from the left drawer. "I'll let you mark them after."
He whispered into her ear and helped her pull out all the numbered cards from the deck—cards that might as well dictate her life and death.
Once the pack was laid out, he handed her the pen.
"Pick any card at random. Mark them with I live or I die. Make sure they aren't a pair—for example, writing I die on both tens of diamonds. That'll ruin the game."
She arched into him, face turned as she spun the pen. "Why? Is it because you don't want me to die~?" she teased. "It's almost like you aren't the game master, making me write whether I die or not."
"I hardly know you long enough to care," he murmured, pulling her closer. "If anything, I'll be saddened to finally let you go. Until then, let's test your luck. Write what I told you, then flip them all over. I'll shuffle."
"If you'll be sad, that's a start."
She picked a card at random and wrote I'll live, then flipped it. She repeated the process three more times before writing I'll die on one. Qiren watched closely as she wrote and quickly turned the cards over.
She tried to remember which cards she'd marked and what she'd written, careful not to make matching pairs.
Qiren waited for her to finish, then shuffled the cards and pulled a chair out for her. "Now I'll explain the rules. This game will last fifteen minutes. I have dead bodies to dispose of, and a scrapyard to visit."
He stood behind her.
"Rule one: you must match a pair to advance. If you flip two cards and they don't match, flip them back over. Then try again until all cards are face up with their pairs."
He spoke casually as he removed bullets from his revolver and placed them beside a small stack of remaining cards.
"But every time you fail to match, I'll load a bullet into this revolver. I'll only shoot when two conditions are met: one, there's a bullet in the barrel; two, you flip two cards marked I die."
"So if I get two wrong cards, and they're both marked I'll die… I'm in trouble."