The Gambler by Lois Greiman Page A

falling into the wide pools of her eyes.
    "Please." The single word was soft and pathetic. "Let me go."
    Raven opened his mouth. He wanted to swear at her, for she had no right now to appeal for mercy. Not after the kicking, pushing, and shooting she had done. And yet... She looked very fragile suddenly, with eyes so wide and frightened they seemed to wound his soul. And here he'd thought he no longer had a soul. No longer needed one.
    "Listen." His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears, making him feel foolish. "I'm being paid to find the girl." He took a deep breath, trying to pull himself from her eyes. "She'd been given a Bible by her mother. A small Bible, bound in white leather." He paused, trying to unravel the mystery. "Inside it said Eloise Medina." Their gazes held. He wondered how long it had been since either of them had breathed normally. "There wouldn't be two Bibles exactly the same," he said, answering his own unspoken question. "There couldn't be. But I'm not accusing you of anything, Charm. I won't turn you in. In fact..." She looked very young lying there, and he wondered how old she was. "I'm not on the best of terms with the law myself. Just tell me the truth. Where did you get it?"
    Her lips parted. They were pink and full and very well-defined, with a strange little upward tilt, even now.
    He waited silently for her answer.
    "Please let me go."
    Raven gritted his teeth. "You're not listening to me. Tell me the truth, Charm, and I'll let you go. I swear I will."
    Still no answer, only her wide, frightened stare on his face.
    "All right." He nodded once. “Then I'll have to prove it." He felt like a brute. Hell, he was a brute. He pulled her skirt up a scant inch.
    "I got it from my mother," she muttered. "I promise you."
    He shook his head once, momentarily allowing himself to admire her beauty, if not the originality of her lies. "I'd like to believe you. I really would," he said and pulled at her skirt again.
    "All right!" She gasped. "I'll tell you the truth. Just let me up."
    Although Raven had never considered himself to be a genius, neither did he like to think he was quite as stupid as she seemed to believe him to be. "Sorry," he said simply. "Tell me now. Then I'll let you up."
    "But I... I can't breathe like this."
    Raven watched her face. She did look pale, as if the hot blood had left her cheeks in a rush. But the thought of blood made him think of his own. It would be all over the floor, in copious amounts, if he were so foolish as to release her.
    He eased off her slightly, however, still holding her wrists. "Now talk," he said, making his tone hard and pinning her with his eyes.
    Her lips formed a circle for a moment, making her appear very innocent.
    “The truth," Raven reminded.
    Her breath came in a sharp gasp. "You're right. The Bible wasn't mine. But I didn't steal it."
    He sharpened his glare.
    "I didn't," she repeated. She licked her lips, breathing fast now. "She'd been... shot." Her nod was rapid and short. "In the back."
    "By whom?"
    "I don't know. She couldn't talk."
    "And so you stole her Bible? That seems a bit cruel, even for you."
    "No! She was badly hurt, and Jude said... He said we couldn't leave her, so I tried to nurse her back to health."
    "Was she alone?"
    "Yes. All alone. We tried to help her. Truly we did. She lived for three days." Charm shook her head, rolling it stiffly against the woolen rug beneath her. "But it was no use."
    He watched her very closely. "She died?"
    "Yes. But she wanted me to have her Bible."
    "Why?"
    Her mouth went round again, like a frightened child's. "We had become very close. Like sisters."
    "In a week?"
    "It was a long week."
    Raven tightened his grip on her wrists and leaned toward her face. "You said it was only three days."
    Air left her lungs in a whoosh. "I mean—"
    "Want to tell me the truth now? Or just a more convincing lie?"
    "It's the truth. I swear it."
    "What is? The one about your mother, Aunt Petunia, or the fact that you'd