The Reaper's Gambit

Copyright The Reaper’s Gambit ISBN Digital: 978-1-7386998-2-7 ISBN Paperback: 978-1-7386998-3-4 Copyright © 2023Cover Art Copyright © 2023 Cover Artist: Joy Author Design StudioThis is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business, companies, events, or places, is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be used or reproduced in any form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning, or otherwise without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Contents Ellis's List 1. Danielle 2. Ellis 3. Danielle 4. Danielle 5. Ellis 6. Danielle 7. Ellis 8. Ellis 9. Danielle 10. Ellis 11. Danielle 12. Danielle 13. Ellis 14. Danielle 15. Ellis 16. Danielle 17. Danielle 18. Ellis 19. Ellis 20. Danielle 21. Ellis 22. Ellis 23. Ellis 24. Ellis 25. Ellis 26. Danielle 27. Danielle 28. Ellis 29. Danielle 30. Danielle 31. Ellis 32. Ellis 33. Danielle 34. Ellis 35. Danielle 36. Ellis 37. Danielle 38. Ellis 39. Ellis 40. Danielle 41. Ellis 42. Ellis 43. Danielle Epilogue Acknowledgements About Author Ellis's List Ellis’s List of the Best Things1. Go for a walk in the park 2. Listen to music3. Enjoy laughter 4. Have a birthday party 5. Eat a delicious meal6. Go dancing 7. See a beautiful sunset 8. Do a good deed 9. Fall in love Chapter 1 DanielleAn unnaturally frigid breeze swirled around me, far colder than normal for Central Park in mid-June. I pulled my thin cardigan tighter and focused on my book. Weeks ago, the pergola above me was covered in brilliant purple wisteria blossoms, but the flowers had died. As everything did. Now all the vine-laden structure did was shade me from the sun. “Are you playing or just borrowing the table?” The man’s voice was deep, soothing, tugging at something in the back of my brain. But its owner had ignored my book—my obvious message to the outside world saying, Leave me alone. Find an empty seat.Keeping my eyes on the text, I said, “I’m waiting for my partner.”“Mind if I sit until they arrive?” I tucked a finger in the book and closed it, looking up with a practiced glare. Late twenties or early thirties, like me, but with dark eyes more suited to one of the older men who frequented the Chess House. As though he’d already faced a lifetime of love and loss. He leaned on the park bench opposite me and smiled, radiating a kindness that pulled at my heart even more than his voice had. His faded jeans were slim, showing off muscular legs, and his light-gray T-shirt stretched across his broad chest. Dark ivy league-cut hair, artfully messed, paired with an immaculate five o’clock shadow. No way he was here for chess.I’d set up my board the same way I did every Saturday—three and a half turns into the last game Dad and I had played, right down to the way he’d left his c6-knight facing b6. The stranger stretched for the board, his graceful fingers barely touching the black knight, swiveling it to face white.“Stop!” My hand shot out, sending the book tumbling to the ground.His brow creased, and he returned the piece to its original orientation, his hand retreating faster than I’d reacted. “You’re very particular about your board.”I slumped against the wooden slats of the bench, breath rough, stroking the scar on the inside of my right palm. That was my father’s knight. Take it easy, Dani. No need to freak out. But the intruder said nothing more about my ridiculous outburst. Instead, he knelt and picked up my book.“The Count of Monte Cristo?” He smiled, and my lungs calmed, as though he fed serenity directly into them. Thumbing through the book, he stopped two-thirds through and read. “‘There are two ways of seeing: with the body and with the soul. The body’s sight can sometimes forget, but the soul remembers forever.’ That’s one of my favorite lines.”He placed the book on the side of the table, his long fingers lingering on it. I stared at his elegant hands—odd on such an athletic body—as my breathing slowed. If only the soul could forget. If only the soul could let go of the moment two years ago that the body couldn’t remember. The moment that lived only in my nightmares.“I set the pieces up…” I tore my gaze away from the book, back to his smile and the comfort it gave. “Then I read a little. When the mood strikes, I analyze the board.”He slid onto the bench. A move others had received a verbal beating for. Why wasn’t I chasing him away? He folded his arms and rested them on the stone table, a subtle scent of cinnamon wafting off him. “You were here by yourself the last two Saturdays as well.”The hair at the nape of my neck rose and my pulse quickened. Was that a warning or excitement? There was something familiar about him, as if we’d met before. But where? When? “That’s creepy.”A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Just came off my shift at the hospital. Same shift the last two weeks. I peruse the open games on my way through the park and consider joining, but I’m usually too tired. Can’t help but notice the rather intense brunette intentionally not playing, hogging a table.”“Lots of people come here and wait for an opponent.”“True.” He raised an eyebrow, drawing my gaze to his dark eyes. Strangest thing. They were shot with flecks of gray, like stars glittering in an inky sky. “But you don’t set up a game-in-progress and wait for a stranger to join you. Maybe an e4, but not Evans Gambit.”My heart gave a traitorous flutter. Not only did he know chess, but he knew the opening. “What do you do at the hospital?”“Trauma unit.” He leaned his chin on his hand. “Name’s Ellis, by