“You weren’t even in the game.”
Lennox smiled. “Sampson was playing for me. His debts are mine, and so is his take.”
Ridley remembered what he had whispered in her ear—what he wanted from her—and she felt sick. She couldn’t do it.
Never.
He ran his finger gently down her cheek and across her lips. “I’ll see you soon.”
When he reached the door, he stopped and turned back to look at her. “I almost forgot. I’m opening a new club in New York, and these guys are my house band.” He glanced at the members of the Devil’s Hangmen.
Ridley gave him a blank stare. “That concerns me because?”
“You owe me a drummer. And you’d better find one before my club opens,” Lennox said. “In Liar’s Trade, the winner calls in his markers whenever he chooses. I’m calling that one in now. You might want to study up on the rules before you play at the big girl table.”
Ridley tried to keep her expression unreadable.
Lennox winked. “Next time.”
He disappeared down the hallway, and Ridley stared after him.
His marker.
A drummer.
New York City.
She frowned.
Even for her, this was cold.
Still.
Ridley twirled a strand of pink hair. “I think I know just the guy.”