Call My Bluff

by Elizabeth Knox

  “Well, I’d be lying if I said I expected you to show up at my door.” Declan grumbles. He’s sliding his hand across the dark grain of the wood and I wonder if he’s intending to slam the door straight in my face. If he did, I wouldn’t even take offense. I deserve it, and so much more.

  “You’ve been digging into things you shouldn’t be.” I state, trying to keep my tone as stoic as possible. I walk past him and stop at the armchair we bought at a flea market ages ago. I don’t want Declan to be able to read me. The same way I don’t want him to be able to see that standing in front of him after everything I did is making me shake in my heels. My heart’s beating so fast you’d swear I was having a cardiac event. On top of it all, heat’s coursing through my entire body.

  Declan slams the door shut behind me, “You have some nerve showing up here after everything.” He’s doing the same thing he did when we were together. He keeps his voice stern, somewhat similar to when you’d hear an angry parent berating their child. Back then I told him he inherited it from his father.

  “Don’t I know it. I shouldn’t be here right now. It’s the God’s honest truth. I shouldn’t be standing here.” I state, turning to face him.

  The anger shows on his face, “What do you know about truth, Lola Wynn? Everything you ever said to me was a pile of fabricated lies.”

  “Not everything,” I let my confession slip out of me before I even have a moment to think. “I don’t expect you to understand why I did what I did, Declan, because you won’t. As much as you try, you won’t ever be able to.”

  He chuckles and I can tell in a split second how fake it is. “Why do you think I’d ever want to understand you? You’re nothing but a gold-digging scam artist, trying to pull the same thing on men like me. How many people have you fucked to get their money? Hmm? I wonder if you give a shit if they’re even married, or if there isn’t one line you won’t cross to get what you want.”

  Releasing a breath, I try not to allow his words to affect me. However, they do. A little too much if I’m being honest. I breathe in and out slowly, trying to calm down but I can’t. It doesn’t help that Declan decides to keep going on his tirade.

  “Yeah, you didn’t give a fuck. I can tell. You’ll fuck whoever you need to get the money. Isn’t that right, Lola?”

  I can’t do this anymore. I can’t stare at him and have him speak to me like I’m just a gold-digging whore, because that isn’t who I am. Whipping my hand back, I slam it across his face. Heat pulsates up my forearm from the overall impact and I’m left staring at him, awaiting his reaction.

  “I’m not a whore. I do what I have to in order to survive. You don’t understand. You won’t ever because you don’t owe your life to someone else. You aren’t under lock and key from someone who has connections and powerful allies everywhere. You can’t comprehend how if I don’t do a job, I’m signing my own death sentence.” Before I realize it my emotions are taking ahold over my body and I’m staggering backwards, hands shaking violently in the process.

  “Let me ask you a question, Lola. Do you think I owe you anything? That I should give a shit about it after all this time? You could’ve made certain choices all those years ago and I might’ve been able to help you.”

  Scowling, I glare at the man who I know has never been so cruel to anyone else in his entire life. “You may be treating me like trash in this moment, but let’s not pretend. You and I have a ton of history and neither of us can bury it. No matter how much we try, it’ll always be embedded in us.”

  “Everything between us was a lie. I was in love with Charli, not Lola.” His words hurt more than anything else. He doesn’t know what I did, the strict instructions I was given and the punishment I experienced by not following a direct order. Then again, why should I waste my breath and even say anything now? Will it even matter?

  I open my mouth to defend myself but shut it. There’s no point in me trying to defend myself. It won’t do any good. Not now, and not ever. “What is it, Lola? What were you going to say?” Declan asks, approaching me. He keeps coming until my back is against the wall and he’s towering over me.

  The man I was with ten years ago was kind, but I can see time has changed parts of him. Back then I would’ve been a hundred percent confident he wouldn’t hurt me. Now? I’m not so sure. As my eyes scan over his body I take in the new changes, how he’s added even more tattoos. If I saw him on the street, I’d think he’s some sort of gang banger.

  “I left when I did, the way I did . . . because they wanted me to wait until your birthday. Until you inherited what your mother left behind for you. He wanted it all and I . . . I couldn’t do that to you. So, I left ahead of schedule. I lied for you and said you were starting to catch on.”

  He scoffs, keeping his eyes on mine. “How am I supposed to believe anything that comes out of your mouth?”

  “You shouldn’t. I’m a woman who’s scorned you, but I’m being honest. I’m not lying to you, Declan. It’s why I wanted to come here. So, you’d know everything that’s at stake, including my own life and the lives of others I work with.”

  Declan pulls his hand back and punches it straight through the wall. “Why do I give a fuck about them when they come after people like me? Everything you’re saying could just be more lies.” He steps back until he’s standing across the foyer from me.

  I’m tired of doing this. He’ll either believe me or he won’t. But he doesn’t know what I went through by leaving my mission early. He doesn’t comprehend the type of person I work for, or the way people who fail are treated.

  “I was thrown in a cellar, Declan. They said I left before my job was completed. They were right, I did leave early because I loved you and couldn’t bear the thought of taking everything from you. I knew your inheritance would be coming soon and made the decision to dip out early, risking my own life in the process,”

  “I don’t want to hear this bullshit,” He puts his hand up, signaling me to shut my mouth. But I won’t. I’ll keep talking so he knows the entire story.

  “I followed my normal protocol and they got the money in time. I laid low in Canada, an exclusive resort I’d been to a few times before. There’s someone we fear in my field of work. Her name is the Death Dealer, but she has a passion for torturing. When my boss is unsatisfied with a job, he’ll either order her to kill you, or wish you were dead. I was in a cellar three years, Declan. The only time I had person-to-person contact is when she came down for another session with me. At first, she used a cowhide whip, the type men out on the ranches use. It was enough to make me wish I was dead. The first couple of days she did that, repeatedly, even over open wounds. When she got bored, she dipped the whip in alcohol before she’d flick it against my flesh.”

  Declan’s eyes are pinned on me. I don’t know if he believes what I’m telling him, but it’s the God’s honest truth. He’s the only person I’ve ever told about this.

  “But of course, it wasn’t amusing enough after a time. One day I spoke back to her and she picked up a sledgehammer. She broke both of my cheekbones and knocked out almost every single tooth I had. I became much more compliant after that. How could I not? Every time I tried to stick up for myself . . . she made it a point to show me she always had the upper hand. Months had gone by and I didn’t act up for a while. But, spoiler alert, one day I did. She kicked me in my face and broke my nose. So, all of this work you see done. I convinced myself it was so I’d be protected on the next job I’d go on, so it’d be easier to stay unnoticed. Although, it’s all bullshit. I have this lovely makeover because I did the one thing I was never supposed to do.”

  “What was that?” Declan asks, his voice barely coming out in a soft whisper.

  “I fell head over heels in love with my mark. I’m sorry for what I did to you Declan. It was horrible and wrong, but I tried to protect you. I really . . . t-tried.” For the first time in years, tears slowly pour over both of my cheeks.

  Chapter Eleven

  I think mos
t of who I was died

  ~ The Idealist

  Declan

  If someone would’ve told me she’d be here again, in my house, telling me her story I would’ve told them they were insane. How I’d never let her back in my house ever again. Yet here we are. Tears roll down her cheeks and as much as I want to believe her, I don’t know if I can. There’s a part of me deep at the bottom of my heart that tells me she wouldn’t lie about something like that. But, she lied about everything before.

  “You can’t expect me to believe you, Lola. I’m sorry, but you can’t.” I dig my hands into the pockets of my jeans and lean against the wall. At least, I do until she opens up her purse and throws photos at me.

  Leaning down to the floor, I pick the few up that’ve turned over and grimace at what the photographs entail. “What the fuck. Why do you have pictures like this?”

  “She told me I needed to keep them on me every day. It didn’t matter the mission or the objective. How these photographs were a reminder of why not to defy him or his orders.”

  Jesus Christ. Looking over the photographs I see busted lips, her back ripped into shreds . . . she reminds me of what zombies look like in that video game Days Gone. Her face is a disgusting combination of black and blue, and that’s when it all hits me. No one would’ve ever done this to themselves. Even if they were fucked up, this isn’t something anyone would want to be done. For what could possibly be the first time since I’ve known her, she’s telling the truth.

  With the photographs in hand, I put my hands near the center and rip them to shreds. “You don’t need a reminder of this. That’s torture in itself.” I state, letting the pieces fall to the floor below me.

  Lola’s bottom lip trembles and with it her entire body shakes, rattling to its core. “I tried. I tried to save you from as much hurt as I could. But I wasn’t successful. I failed and . . . I’m so sorry for all the pain I caused you, Declan. You don’t have to forgive me, but I hope you do.”

  I want to fucking hate her right now. I crave to tell her to get the hell out of my house and go fuck herself. This woman has the audacity to come back into the home I shared with her, where we were prepping a room for the birth of our child and . . . she tells me a story that makes her look more like a victim than the villain. A story that gives me a gut feeling she’s telling the truth.

  “The baby . . . you need to tell me. Did your boss do that too?”

  Lola’s eyes go wide which I’m sure is from confusion. She quickly recovers and shakes her head from side to side. “No, that was . . . I lost the baby.” Just like back then she’s putting the blame entirely on herself.

  “We,” I correct Lola. “You weren’t alone in any of that grief.”

  “I apologize. I wasn’t trying to seem insensitive, I just mean . . . the baby died because of—”

  “Our baby didn’t die because of you. Don’t even start with that shit. Fuck, you know how bad it pisses me off. Just like the doctor told us, sometimes it happens with no rhyme or reason. It’s unfortunate, but it’s the circle of life.”

  “You sound like you quoted him word for word.” She mutters, wiping away her tears.

  “Maybe I did. Though, he was a tad bit more insensitive.”

  “He was the worst. I don’t know if he skipped all his bedside manners classes or what.”

  “I’m pretty positive that isn’t actually a thing,” I say, lightening the mood. Lola giggles, indicating things aren’t so serious in the room right now.

  God, that laugh. I shut my eyes for a split second and realize how much I’ve missed it. Even though I want to hate her for everything, how can I after hearing the things I didn’t know? She stole so much money from me . . . though maybe I should be re-directing my anger at the person she works for instead of his minion.

  “I hired a private investigator firm to look into you.” I state, making sure my eyes are glued to hers for her reaction.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, I know about everything from your dad’s death to your mother having her breakdown.” I decide to keep the faking his death bit to myself for now. It could prove to be useful later.

  “Guess you know it all then,”

  “No, just the tip of the iceberg. Let me ask you a question,” I push myself off the wall and go up to her, closely invading her personal space. “I need to confess something first. When I found out you were back here, I wanted nothing more than to destroy your life. I wanted to make you hurt in ways you could only imagine, however, given what you’ve told me . . . I think you’ve done enough hurting. Which leads me to the question I’m about to ask you. Do you want out of whatever you’re involved in?”

  “There isn’t a way out of this life.” Lola is quick to dismiss me.

  “How do you know if you’ve never tried?” I’m making assumptions, but if she’s still standing in front of me, I doubt she’s tried to get out.

  “Declan, let me be clear. Everyone that tries to get out of this only ends up in one place. Six feet under.”

  “Let me help you. I’ll look into whoever your boss is and I’ll help you get out. That is, if you don’t want to be doing this anymore.”

  She blinks a few times and nods, “I want out, but we have to be smart about all this. Now it’s my turn to ask a question. Why do you want to help me?”

  “Because I think you’ve had enough pain to last you a lifetime. Eighty-eight mil and you still don’t deserve what that woman did. No one does.”

  Our eyes are glued to each other and we stand in the silence, merely looking at one another. There was a reason I fell in love with her before and maybe I wasn’t wrong in doing that. Maybe I fell in love with the right woman, someone who had such a sweet heart. While her actions were inexcusable, she’s just someone else’s pawn. Never did Lola act for her own personal gain. Instead she’s been doing the dirty work for some piece of shit scumbag.

  I don’t know what takes over me but I press my lips firmly onto hers, reuniting them after being apart for far too long. My right hand snakes behind her back and down onto her ass, giving it a good squeeze. While my left hand stays firmly on her neck, applying a bit of pressure. I still hope she likes that. In the bedroom it was her favorite kink.

  Our tongues dart into one another’s mouth and reconnect, exploring each other’s mouths after too much time apart. Lola releases a soft moan, allowing her body to go limp against the wall. She slides her hands over my shoulders.

  I don’t think either of us saw this happening tonight.

  My cock strains from the confines of my pants, jumping at the opportunity to enter her again. I’ve had one-night stands for ages. Never was there an emotional connection to them, but not with Lola. We’ve had chemistry from day one.

  Releasing my hand from her neck I slide around to the back of her hair and interlace my fingers at the nape of her neck and yank. She groans, tilting her neck to the side and I place my mouth on her neck. Sucking in her salt and sweet skin.

  “I’ve missed you,” She confesses. I growl in response, grinding my hips against her stomach until I feel her lifting her dress up, an open invitation for what we both want.

  Removing my hands from her hair and ass I unbuckle my pants, free my cock and nestle myself between her legs. In one quick thrust I’m inside her, ramming my cock like I’m still a horny fucker in my early twenties. Ripping my lips from her mouth, I put my left hand on the side of her face and stare into those eyes. Ones I barely recognize since they’re a different color. “I’ve dreamed about sinking my cock inside you for so long, about how you’d come undone in my arms.”

  “I’ve thought about this too . . . but I never thought reconnecting would be possible,” Lola admits.

  “Is that what you want?” I ask.

  Moments pass by slowly as I continue fucking her up against the wall. I believe she doesn’t want any part of it until I feel something soaking my dress shirt. Looking back to her face I see she’s crying and nodding her head.

  “I
wish I would’ve told you b-back then. I’m s-so sorry.”

  “Shh, we can talk about it later.” I hush her, wanting us to both enjoy the moment. When I asked her if this is what she wanted I don’t even think I had the answer myself.

  But I’d be lying if I said she didn’t mean anything to me. There’s a reason I never let another woman in my life the way I let her in. I was bitter about what she did, but I . . . I still fucking loved her and deep down I know I never stopped.

  I’ll do whatever I can to make her life easier and get her out of this. She’s no angel, but I’m no saint.

  Maybe we’re perfectly imperfect.

  Time will only tell.

  Chapter Twelve

  I stopped being me such a long time ago. I can’t even remember who that was

  ~ Unknown

  Lola

  For the first time in many years I felt like myself. I didn’t feel like a tool of a powerful man, or the organization he created. I feel like Lola Wynn, someone who has needs and desires like everyone else. For so long I’ve pretended to people I’m literally not. I was given a folder with facts about the persona I was pretending to be and implemented those characteristics into my assignment.

  A heavily tattooed arm is draped around me. I didn’t take notice of the new ink Declan had added until we’d made our way upstairs, entrapped in the other’s body. His left arm used to be bare, while his right had the full sleeve but didn’t have ink on his hands yet. It appears that’s changed as well.

  On his left arm a Chinese dragon starts at his shoulder cap and cascades all the way down. His hand has a unique flower which is mostly made of black ink with a bit of definition in white. Meanwhile, his right arm pays tribute to the yin and yang, with coy fish swimming until it reaches the bottom of his hand. On his neck he added another tattoo. It’s the face of a Chinese dragon in the Chinese New Year parades. Or at least, it’s how I can easily describe it.