Fated Mate Conquered - Luna Voss Page 0,51

of the women hurries to light it for him.

Turan smiles. “What, you don’t recognize me?”

Rizban doesn’t even bother to look closer, paying more attention to his cigar. “No. If I knew who you were, I wouldn’t have asked. Tell me.”

It’s clear that Rizban is used to holding court at this Djumba game. Turan doesn’t answer him, just sits there smugly.

Rizban looks up. It seems that he’s not used to being ignored. He squints, searching Turan’s face. “Why are you so familiar? Where have I seen you before?”

“The last time you talked to me, you were inviting me to a sitdown,” Turan growls. “Does that jog your memory?”

The other Voorian’s eyes widen as recognition hits him. “You,” he snarls. “I heard you were still alive. Didn’t recognize you with that stupid beard. You know, I was really disappointed when the Empire announced that they were postponing your execution. I was all set to watch it on TV. I had popcorn and everything.”

Anger flashes through me, but I control it. I can only imagine how Turan feels. He stays calmly in his seat, looking Rizban dead in the eyes.

“You know,” he says quietly, “I didn’t want to believe it was you who betrayed me. I knew someone did, when the UPE crashed the meeting and arrested me, but I didn’t think it was you. I didn’t want to allow myself to believe it. The whole time I was in captivity, set to die, fucked up on drugs, I was hoping that you’d managed to get away from the Empire. That you weren’t set to be executed like I was.”

Rizban laughs cruelly. “Look at you, saying that as though it somehow speaks well about you. All you’re admitting right now is that you’re weak. That you couldn’t see betrayal when it was staring you right in the face. And now, for the second time, you’re going to face the consequences. Because if you hadn’t noticed, the Red Star Boys aren’t with you anymore. As far as you’re concerned, the Gordulla Family controls the Tajiki Comet Casino now.”

The tension in the room is so thick you could slice it to pieces with a plasma beam. The human and Dajorkan card players stare, wide-eyed, obviously unprepared for this confrontation. The waitress is nowhere to be seen, and the two Voorian prostitutes are slinking back to a table in the corner, clearly anticipating violence. My pulse is racing, but I play calm, taking cues from Turan, who seems completely unfazed.

“One game,” says Turan, still making eye contact with the other Voorian. “You came here to play cards, right? Let’s play cards.”

Rizban’s eyes narrow, and then his face breaks into a smile entirely lacking joy. “Okay,” he says, pushing all of his chips into the center. “I’m all in.” He turns to one of the Dajorkans. “Deal.”

I have no idea what Turan is planning. He seems completely casual, taking his time, as though he’s trying to draw out the length of the Djumba game with Rizban. He pushes in his chips, smiling, and the Dajorkan nervously deals each of them a hand.

The game of Djumba goes faster when somebody is all-in and you can skip the several rounds of betting. I feel my pulse racing when it’s time for the final card to be dealt, wondering what will happen after. I don’t know who’s going to win, but for some reason, I have a feeling Turan doesn’t care about the outcome of the game. If anything, it feels like he’s playing for time.

Suddenly, before either Turan or Rizban have a chance to show their hands, there’s a commotion at the front of the bar. We all turn to look, and see two gun-wielding UPE security guards decked out in full Imperial armor. Their faces are hidden by their helmets, and they march into the room looking ready for business. A Dajorkan pit boss follows, arguing with them, an expression of total anxiety on his face.

“I told you, officer, it’s just a private Djumba game,” the pit boss pleads with them, trying to slow them down. “Nothing illegal. We have Imperial captains in here playing all the time!”

“Good, then you won’t have anything to worry about,” says one of the officers, his voice distorted by his helmet. “Out of the way.”

“Governor Ferguson won’t be happy about this,” the pit boss argues, attempting to block their path.

“That will be our concern,” says the other officer. “Now stand aside.”

Reluctantly, the Dajorkan allows the two Imperial officers to approach the table.