I didn’t want to end up like Gabriel’s brother.
Bones in the desert.
I didn’t want to become Monique and accept the idea of someone owning me.
I didn’t want to be handed over to Bruno or sold, hired out the way she was by that creep Marchant.
Lucian Marchant.
My eyes flew open.
Holy shit!
Lucian Marchant!
The water surged in the tub and splashed over the side as I sat up, the name suddenly ringing clear in my brain.
Lucian Marchant. Bones in the desert. Eric’s dad.
“Eric.” Tears swarmed my vision.
The man I’d been trying to protect my boyfriend from. The one Kaplan had used against me. He lived in Vegas. He’d had dealings with Santiago.
My breaths were a whisper of air, fast and shallow as my nightmare grew just a little worse.
Eric couldn’t come here. If that Marchant guy spotted him, even from a distance, he’d know. The similarities between Eric and his father were uncanny. I couldn’t hope for my boyfriend to find me anymore. If anything, I had to hope he wouldn’t!
Slumping back against the edge of the tub, I wiped the drips from my face and stared at the ceiling. My only chance now was Kaplan finding me.
The tears escaped, dribbling down to my chin like slow, aching raindrops.
That didn’t seem much of a chance.
The utter dismay I’d been trying to fight off took hold of me, swarming through my body in fierce waves that made my muscles tremble. The only word I could utter in broken repetition as I quietly mourned was, “Eric.”
19
Eric
It was the longest, most torturous weekend in the history of man. Holed up in a motel room with my father whose paranoid security was driving me to the edge of insanity was not a good way to go. Worse yet, Caity hadn’t returned on Sunday night like everyone was hoping she would. It was a pipe dream. Dad and I had waited outside her dorm all afternoon and evening, watching students return from their Thanksgiving break, but not my Caity...and no Quella, either.
I tried to call Rhodes that night, but his phone was off. Instead, I’d left a terse message that had Dad’s eyebrows skyrocketing north before he snickered at me and shook his head.
Time had stood still after that, and Monday had crawled.
I’d paced.
I’d flicked through TV channels until the television threatened to short circuit.
I’d gone to the motel pool and in spite of the crisp water, swum until I thought my lungs might burst.
I was a caged tiger, ravenous for resolution, yet none was on the horizon.
My only respite was sleep, which only came in patches throughout the night. I took what I could get, sleeping during the day and trying to wake up later in the mornings just to shorten the torturous light hours.
The phone beside my bed hummed and started ringing.
I groaned, irritated at being woken from a rare, dreamless sleep.
“Hello,” I mumbled, my eyes still closed.
“Where are you? I’ve got something and we need to talk.”
I lurched from the bed, Rhodes’s voice powering through me like an electric current. I rattled off the address and slapped the phone back onto the bedside table.
“Who was that?” Dad came out from the bathroom, towel-drying his hair.
“Rhodes.” I scrambled into my pants and zipped them up, snatching my watch off the bedside table and blinking at the time: 3:20 p.m.
“He’s coming here.”
“You gave out our address?” Dad growled.
“What was I supposed to do? He wanted to talk face-to-face.”
“Then we meet him somewhere open and safe!”
“Dad, just drop it.” I flicked my hand at him. “He’s going to be here.”
“Call him back and tell him—”
There was a knock at the door. We both looked at each other. Dad snatched the gun off the table and flicked off the safety, walking to the door and peering through the peephole. His shoulders sagged and he unbolted the lock.
“That was quick,” he muttered as Rhodes stepped into the room.
“I knew you lived in Pacific Palisades. I was on my way there,” Rhodes shrugged.
I ignored Dad’s dark, suspicious look and threw on my t-shirt as Rhodes took a seat at the table. We joined him and leaned against the wood, our anxious expressions identical.
“My contact came through.” Rhodes placed his phone on the table. “On Thursday, one of his poker buddies said he saw Miguel Vera with a woman matching Caity’s description.”
“Where?”
“At a high-class poker game held in a very exclusive resort about an hour’s drive from Mendez’s place.”
“What was she doing there?”
“Vera was treating her like his girlfriend.”
I closed my eyes, my brain buzzing so loudly I nearly missed the next part.
“...Carlotta,” Rhodes finished.
“What was that?”
“He called her Carlotta and if my sources are right, there was a woman at a different poker game on Friday night with the same name. I don’t know who she was with or if it’s the same girl. I’m waiting on more details, but it gives me hope that Caity’s alive.”
I nodded, trying to wrap my brain around the positives of that statement and not the torturous truth of what Caity might be forced to do as a slave.
Slave! Holy shit, how was this real?
I shook my head and reined myself in. “Okay, so that first game was on Thursday, right? I thought she was at the house then?”
“She was supposed to be, but we lost contact, remember?”
My glare was dark. He dropped his gaze to avoid it and kept talking. “He must have snuck her out through the secret entrance.”
“What secret entrance?” Dad frowned.
“Yeah, I found that out after I left our meeting in Yuma.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “They discovered a hidden passage in Quella’s bedroom. It led down to a basement garage, which had a tunnel that popped out further from the house. It was a very well-concealed exit and entry point. We didn’t even know there was a road leading out from that side of the house.”
“Shit!” I thumped the table.
“I know.” Rhodes nodded, looking grim. “I’m guessing that’s how he got her out. Mendez isn’t saying shit and Kaplan’s pretty sure he doesn’t know anything about it.”
“Oh, so she’s playing ball now?”
“Nope.” Rhodes sighed. “And if she finds out I’m telling you any of this, she’s going to kill me. As far as anyone’s concerned, the last time Kaplan spoke to Caitlyn Davis was last year, during the UCLA sting operation.”
I was tempted to shout bitch, but didn’t want to waste the air. That woman was un-freaking-believable! “So, did your contact say anything else?”
“Yes, and this is the good part, sort of.” Rhodes tipped his head with a half-shrug.
“Sort of?”
“Vera won big at that Thursday poker game.”
“Probably because Caity was helping him.”
“That’s what I’m guessing. Anyway, someone must have noticed, because at the end of the game Vera was pulled aside by a man.”
“Who?” Dad tapped his poker chip on the table.
“If I’m getting this straight, it was Bruno Gomez.”
Dad and I glanced at each other before looking back at Rhodes and shaking our heads.
He scrubbed a hand down his face and squeezed his chin. “Bruno is the nephew of Santiago Gomez. He’s a big-time businessman in Vegas, just opened up a grand casino on the Strip. Prime location.”
“Are you talking about Palacio del Diablo?” Dad asked.
“That’s the one.”
Dad whistled. “That place is...” he raised his eyebrows. “Off the charts.”
“So I’ve heard.” Rhodes’s grim expression was making me nervous. He looked at me,
a pained expression lingering in his eyes. “The guy’s rich, but his money’s not clean. The Feds have been keeping an eye on him, but haven’t found anything solid yet. We’ll need to tread carefully. The man has underground connections and with us working off the grid, we don’t want to end up as vulture food in the desert. You get me?”
I nodded, trying to look confident, but no doubt failing. “So, where do you think Caity is?”
“I really don’t know.” Rhodes shrugged. “She could still be with Vera, or he may have sold her to Bruno...or someone else.”
I whispered a curse, despising the idea of someone treating Caity like a commodity. Sold like some Barbie doll to be undressed and played with.
I shuddered.
“Hey, we have to assume she’s been sold for her sight, no other reason.” I glanced up at Rhodes’s reassurances, but my fear was mirrored in his gaze. His words did nothing to calm me.
“So, what’s the plan?” I gritted out. “We find this Bruno guy and see if he can lead us to Miguel or tell us who has Caity now?”
“It’s ballsy, but I think it’s our only option right now. We could maybe pose as buyers, I’m still working that part out, but we need to get to Vegas if we’re going to find out more.”
I nodded, rising from my chair and getting ready to move.
Dad slapped his hand around my wrist. “You’re not going to Vegas.”
I wrenched my arm free. “Yeah, I am.”
“That’s Marchant’s stomping ground. Like hell I’m going to let you go there. It’d be like driving straight into the lion’s den.”
“I don’t care. If there’s even a chance Caity’s there, I’ve gotta go.”
“There’s no guarantee that she will be.” Dad stood to eyeball me. I was only a quarter-inch taller so it wasn’t hard for him to get right in my face. “You can’t take a risk this big.”
“You said I had to get out of town. This is the perfect excuse.”
“I didn’t mean Vegas!” He threw his hands wide.
“Dad, I’m going.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I can go.” Rhodes stood. “Keep you posted on what I find.”
“Like hell! I’m not leaving you to do this thing on your own. My girl’s waiting for me to find her and I’m not going to let her down.” I turned back to Dad, my eyes on fire with a stubborn determination he’d never be able to break through. “I’m going. You can either ome with me, and watch my back, or you can fly your ass to New Zealand. I really don’t care.”
Discussion over, I charged through the motel room, gathering up my stuff. Dad glared at me for a good five minutes before finally relenting with a heavy sigh and a string of mumbled curses.
It took us twenty minutes to pack up and get ready. Rhodes wanted to take his car, so we followed behind in my jeep. The tension in the vehicle was palpable and I did nothing to ease it. Dad could be as mad as he wanted to. I wasn’t changing my mind.
Like I gave a shit about my safety when Caity was suffering at the hands of some underground scum.
Getting her out was all that mattered to me. I didn’t care what it cost me. She was worth any risk.
20
Eric
We arrived in Las Vegas just after eight that night. It was definitely cooler than L.A. I grabbed a sweater and threw it on before following Rhodes into the hotel reception. We’d chosen a place a couple of blocks back from the Strip. Dad wanted to stay as incognito as possible. His jittery nerves wound a fraction tighter with each passing mile. By the time we entered our motel room, I thought he was about to implode.
He glared at my amused expression. “Shut up, buddy. I’m really not in the mood.”
Pulling out his gun, he placed it in the top drawer of his nightstand and moved to the window, flicking back the curtain and checking the parking lot.
Rhodes knocked on our door and I let him in. “What’s the plan?”
“I think we should lay low tonight and get to work tomorrow morning. I want to scout the area in daylight. There’ll be less people about if we go first thing in the morning. I want to hang out at his casino a little first before trying to corner Gomez.”
“Why wait?” I countered. “Let’s go now. Vegas is an all-night city. I’m not just going to sit around here wasting my time.”
“Vegas brings out a different breed of people at night. We need to be careful.” Dad crossed his arms and leaned his butt against the windowsill.
His caution was really starting to piss me off.
I opened my mouth to argue when Rhodes got a call. His face grew tight with tension before answering.
“Yeah...” He grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut. “Just taking a little vacation time. The case is wrapped up and you said I could have the week off.... Um...” He puffed out his cheeks. “Blowin’ off some steam in Vegas.” He scratched the back of his head and turned away from me, letting out what I thought was a nervous chuckle. “You told me to drop it, so I did. You know how I feel. If you change your mind, give me a call.”
With a short huff, he slid the phone into his pocket and turned to face us.
“Kaplan?” Dad asked.
Rhodes gave a stiff nod, his jaw clenched so tight I could see his muscles working.
“You must feel pretty cut up about this if you’re willing to take vacation time to help us.” Dad’s eyes narrowed as he studied the guy. “You’re going against your boss. You could get fired if you get caught. The guilt must be pretty strong.”
Rhodes shrugged. “Or maybe I just hate the idea of a girl like Caity in the hands of Miguel Vera...or anyone in the underworld, for that matter. She’s too pure and sweet to be surrounded by such filth.” He spat out the last word and squeezed the back of his neck.
I studied him with steely eyes. It was immature to feel jealous, but I couldn’t help it. It was obvious Rhodes liked her. The idea of him working so closely with her while I remained clueless stung big-time. I was sure she hadn’t, but it felt a little like she’d been cheating on me. The thing was, I didn’t feel an ounce of animosity toward Caity over the whole thing; it was all directed at Rhodes.
He caught my expression and waved a hand at me with a scoff. “Don’t worry about it, man. She’s in love with you, not me.” He ran his tongue over his bottom teeth and shook his head. “Doesn’t mean I can’t save her life though, you know?”
It was an effort, but I eventually muttered, “Thank you.”
He rolled his eyes and made for the door when the phone rang again, except this time, it wasn’t his phone.
It was Caity’s.
I recognized the ring tone. My body stiffened.
Rhodes pulled it out of his pocket and checked the screen. “It’s her mom. She called yesterday, too. I can’t answer, and I don’t know what to tell her.”
“Give it to me.” I held out my hand and answered it just before it went to voicemail.
“Hey, Mrs. Davis. How’s it going?”
“Eric.” She sounded pleasantly surprised. “I didn’t— I thought—”
“That Caity and I were no longer together?” I finished for her, hating that I couldn’t tell her the truth.
She chuckled. “I should have known. Like one spat could break you two up.”
I forced out a laugh. “We managed to fix things up. I’m sorry we missed Thanksgiving, though.”
“Oh, don’t you worry about that. I was just calling to make sure Caity was okay.”
I swallowed, pulling a plastic smile and hoping it’d reach my voice. Part of me wanted to beg her to call any and everyone for help. But something warned me against it. We were dealing with too many unknown factors. Kaplan was a big one. Who knew what kind of backlash we’d get if she knew what Rhodes was doing behind her back? She could squash an investigation to save her own hide and then we’d be nowhere.
We couldn’t get the media involved either.
We weren’t dealing with backyard criminals. We were dealing with crime lords that made
their own rules and Caity could disappear off the face of the earth if they even got a whiff of it in the news.
No, for now, we had to stay quiet. And so I lied to Mrs. Davis. “Yeah, she’s doing great. School’s back and we’re busy prepping for exams. She’s just taking a shower before we head to the library for another session. Do you want her to call you?”
“You know what? Don’t stress her out tonight. Just get her to give me a call in a few days when things have settled down. I wanted to tell her that we’ve boxed up all her stuff now to clear out the baby room for Holly, and I need to know what she wants to keep and throw away.”
“Got it.”
“And also tell her Mom says hi and give her a big hug for me.”
“Yeah.” I chuckled, a lump forming in my throat. “It’ll be my pleasure,” I choked out the words and hung up as soon as she’d said goodbye.
I dropped Caity’s phone on the table and looked between the two men. “That bought us a few more days.”
“Nice,” Rhodes mumbled before pulling the door open. “We’ll get to work first thing in the morning.”
I still wasn’t happy about the idea, but decided not to fight it.
As soon as Rhodes had left, Dad flicked his gaze to me. “What do you want to do?”
“Walk the Strip.” I threw my hands in the air, that caged-tiger feeling creeping over me again.
Working his jaw, Dad clicked his fingers and moved to the bedside locker. Yanking out his gun, he slid it into the back of his pants. “Tie your hair back and put on the beanie in my bag.”
I wasn’t about to argue. Leaping across to his bag, I wrenched out the floppy beanie and tucked my hair beneath it. Dad came over to me, tucking away the last few strands and handing me a pair of orange lens shades. He stepped back to look at me. “It’s not great, but it’ll have to do for now.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
He pointed at me. “We’re not going anywhere near Club Impulse, you got it?”
“I don’t even know where that is.”
Poker Face (Masks #4) Page 11
