Asking me for the information outright. Some spy you are.”
“Gimme a break. I’m new to the espionage game.”
“Then what game are you good at?”
“Well,” Sara began, holding up her hand and ticking off her answers one by one. “I’m good at Scrabble and Twister and Pictionary and Clue and Uno, but the game I’m best at is—” She slapped his arm with her open hand. “Tag—you’re it!”
And then she ran.
Chapter 17
Sara
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. The look on Sam’s face had been priceless. His eyes had opened so wide, and his eyebrows had drawn together so fast, he’d looked like a cartoon character. His mouth had even dropped open enough that I could see the tops of his teeth.
He’d been acting weird the last couple of hours—running hot and cold. Sometimes he was fun and friendly, and our conversation was the same. But then he’d brought up all that talk about emotions and God and stuff. The topic seemed to be important to him, and I felt like maybe he was really trying to tell me something else, but I wasn’t sure I understood.
What I had understood, though, was the playing card tied to the tree. The ace of hearts. That meant we were supposed to head east. So I did. And the part of me that thrilled at the thought of running through this glorious park didn’t hesitate for a moment to accept the invitation to change direction.
I laughed again, this time for the sheer joy of taking flight across the green, green grass. I took all my negative emotions of the day—my memories of my mom, my frustration with my dad, Sam’s weirdness, Piper’s threat—and pushed them out of my mind. I turned my face to the light and closed my eyes for a brief moment, relishing the sense of freedom that filled me.
Then my foot slipped and I squeaked. I flung my arms out, trying to regain my balance.
A hand reached out to steady me. I squeaked again, laughing. “Sam—no—let go—” But it wasn’t Sam who had grabbed my arm.
He had the thickest, brightest, most fire-engine red hair I had ever seen. Below that was a face lined with wear and weather. His hazel-brown eyes were framed with smile lines and a thick pair of black-rimmed glasses. He wore a white shirt with the words “Aces Wild” printed across the front and a pair of tattered jeans with a hole in the left knee. He was barefoot in the grass. He had to be at least sixty years old, but he still looked lean and fit.
“Are you Aces?” I gasped, stumbling over my feet as I tried to stay upright.
“The one and only. I see you followed the cards and found your way. Thus, you have earned the right to ask what you may.”
“What?”
Aces chuckled. “Not the best question, I suppose, but I am obligated to answer it as best as I can.”
“I don’t understand,” I managed, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath.
“Clearly.” He clapped his hands around my shoulders and set me on my feet.
“Hey, Aces,” Sam said, coming up to join us. His breath came short and he ran a hand through his hair.
I noticed that Sam’s silver chain had come free during the chase, and what appeared to be a pair of dog tags rested on his chest along with another silver circle I didn’t recognize.
“Samuel.” Aces inclined his head like a reigning king.
“Samuel?” I echoed, looking over at Sam.
He waved away my question and kept his attention on Aces. “Daniel sent us. He said you had some new art?”
“I see. And I do. And I create—yes, indeed I do.”
I stepped back from Aces so Sam was closer to him than I was. The old man seemed nice enough, but he was a little strange.
The three of us stood in silence for a moment. I edged even closer to Sam.
“May we see it?” he finally asked. “Your art?”
“What will you give me in return?” He leveled a gnarled finger at Sam. “And no sugar packets.”
Sam held up his hands in surrender. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He lifted the flap on his bag and rummaged
Melissa Foster
David Guenther
Tara Brown
Anna Ramsay
Amber Dermont
Paul Theroux
Ethan Mordden
John Temple
Katherine Wilson
Ginjer Buchanan