High Stakes

by Pierce, Nicolette

  “I have an object that was given to me, but dangerous men from foreign countries are after it. And I want to live. So, can I give it to you?”

  “Can I see the object?”

  I lifted the blob so he could take a look.

  What could have been a look of concern dropped from his face. All I could see now was him mulling over whether he should call the psychiatric hospital.

  “Why don’t you take a seat? I’ll find someone to talk to you.”

  I think that was code for someone will be around to collect you and bring you to a padded cell. A padded cell was safer than my apartment. I nodded and headed to a small grouping of chairs.

  It was near the main entrance doors but around the corner, so I couldn’t see the doors and no one could see me. That made me relax. At least if Dagor was dumb enough to drive past a police station, there was no way he could see me.

  I waited for twenty minutes and watched people come and go. I hadn’t realized how busy the police station was in the daytime. At one point the front desk had a line. A couple of unfortunate people were also sent to wait by me. I casually glanced at them as they sat down. One man, who wore plaid polyester shorts, black mid-calf socks, and blindingly white shoes, had been sprayed with pulsing neon-orange graffiti. I felt bad for him. Bad style was no reason to graffiti someone. If that was the case, I’m sure I’d have been tagged several times.

  The other person sent to wait with me was a woman. She was decked out like a gypsy psychic. Perhaps someone had stolen her crystal ball or her tarot cards.

  “You’ve been in a lot of danger, my dear,” she said, settling next to me with a smile and searching eyes.

  “I’ve been better,” I said.

  She couldn’t fool me with her phony psychic tricks. I was in a police station waiting for help; of course I was in danger.

  “You need to make up your mind,” she warned me.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, scanning the room to see if anyone was coming so I could escape from her watchful eye.

  “About the men in your life. You need to make up your mind.”

  How did she know? Is she for real? “I, uh, don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Well, soon it won’t matter. You’ll be married by morning.”

  I smiled. She was nuts, and that made me feel better.

  “You don’t believe me, do you?”

  “You seem nice, but no. How could I believe something like that when I have no one to marry? And I don’t want to get married right now.”

  She nodded her head. “I understand. There will be a time when you need help. Run straight into the lights; they will protect you.”

  “Uh, sure.”

  I fidgeted in my seat. When were the police going to see me? I tapped my foot anxiously on the floor. I inspected my fingernails, which desperately needed some work. Two fingernails were broken and there were hangnails and cuticles galore. Maybe Mya could fix them.

  I hoped Mya was okay and still in the casino with Greyson. I didn’t think he would have let her leave the property without Remy tagging along.

  I fished out my phone, surprised it wasn’t ringing. Since I didn’t stay at the casino to talk to Greyson, I thought for sure he would have chewed my left ear off. But there was nothing. No missed calls or anything. I shoved the phone back into my pocket. He must be with Fiona and she’s keeping him busy. I gritted my teeth.

  I spotted a corkboard with wanted-criminal postings. I stood and wandered over to it. It was the perfect distraction to take my mind off of Greyson—and hopefully the clock would tick a little faster.

  I studied the hard, glaring faces. Some were repeat offenders’ mug shots, some were artist renderings of those who were never caught, and a couple were from snapshots a friend or family took, never thinking it would wind up on a wanted poster.

  Holy crap! The blob dropped from my fingers and landed with a resounding thud on the tiled floor. I scrambled to pick it up and smiled shyly at the eyes that shot in my direction from the ruckus. I whipped back to the picture of Muffin. She barely cleared the frame of the shot, but there she was.

  I read the briefing. Her name was Bonnie Lane Gatlin. I scanned the stats that were listed on her poster. She’s thirty-six years old, six foot eight, and wanted in four states. The reward . . . ten thousand dollars.

  Good luck just fell in my lap. I had two bucks in my pocket, now I might have ten thousand and two. And here I’d thought I might have to live with her for the rest of my life, thanks to Frankie. Now I can collect a reward and get her out of my apartment.

  I suppressed the urge to jump up and down with a hoot and turned with a megawatt smile to speak with the uniform at the front desk. There was a man standing there. He was nondescript and average, in a T-shirt and sunglasses. He flashed a badge or identification at the cop.

  It was the French guy. I froze next to the wall. The trophy was still in my clutches. My protective hands tightened.

  He had to be part of some government organization. Maybe a foreign office? Why else would he flash his identification to the police? A jittery sensation to hide overcame all of my senses.

  He might belong to a government, but I didn’t know for which country, and I didn’t know what he wanted. Either way, I didn’t want him to have the trophy. He was part of the problem. Until I knew what the secret was, he wasn’t going to have it.

  I trailed the edge of the wall behind him and bolted out the door. The hot Vegas air nailed me on contact, and I cursed Nevada. How could anyone run for their life in this state? I jogged through the station parking lot.

  “Nadia!”

  I turned my head to see Catarina waving at me. She wore a white silk shirt with a black bra underneath, ultra-short shorts, and heels so high that she could pass for a giraffe.

  “Can’t stop,” I called as I continued to run.

  My feet hit the sidewalk, and I flew down the road. I zigzagged down streets and blocks I had never been on before.

  “Nadia, wait!” Catarina shouted.

  I stole a glimpse to see Catarina keeping up with me in her high heels. Dang! If I liked her, I might be impressed. I was running as fast as my legs could carry me, and she was keeping up in shoes I couldn’t even stand in.

  There was no stopping me now. I only had two minutes left of energy, and then I was done for. I wanted to run as far away as possible. If she wanted to run after me, that was her business.

  I was able to make it to a residential neighborhood with perfectly square houses lining the street. A shade tree loomed near the road, and I collapsed under it. I couldn’t take another step. Every breath burned with exhaustion. Catarina was a half block away and closed the distance as I tucked the blob behind me.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” she huffed, coming to a halt in front of me. She was breathing as hard as I was. “All I wanted to do was talk to you, and you ran away.”

  “You didn’t have to follow.”

  She was bent over. Her hands were on her knees, supporting her weight. “I need help.”

  “I don’t have any money.”

  Her face soured with a tight pucker. “I know you don’t have any money. You never have any money. But you have Caleb’s trophy, and I need it.”

  My eyes slanted, regarding her with confounded speculation. “How do you know about the trophy?”

  “Greyson hasn’t been able to see me because of his new dragon woman. So I haven’t been able to get money from him. I had to try a different tactic, and . . .”

  “You wouldn’t have been able to weasel the money,” I interrupted her.

  Her eyes narrowed at me. “We’ll never know. His new fling has him tied up and imprisoned in his penthouse.” Her lips curved into a silky smile. “You know, she’s at least pretty. I knew he was going to tire of you quickly. I still don’t know how plain, boring you was able to snag the interest of ultra-handsome and ultra-rich Greyson Miller.”

  I didn’t know the answer to that eit
her, but she hit below the belt flaunting his newest employee in my face.

  “Anyway,” she continued as if bored of the conversation, “Pierre saw me talking to you in the casino and said if I bring him the trophy he’d give me the hundred grand I need.”

  “You can’t be serious. You’re working with the French guy?” I asked.

  “I’m very serious. I need the money. Hand over the trophy and I’ll spare you.”

  “You’ll spare me?” I snorted with a surprised laugh. This couldn’t be happening. I must have entered into a crime spoof somewhere along the way. Where are the hidden cameras?

  A blast of spray caught me off guard. My eyes and lungs ignited with a burning, piercing pain. I wheezed and choked, gasping for air. My eyes and sinuses sprang forth with tears and fluids to flood the chemicals away. The intense, searing pain made my eyes clench tight. The persistent, uncontrollable coughing left me speechless.

  “Wow, this pepper spray works better than I thought,” she said, rolling me out of the way with her heeled shoe and prying the trophy out of my hands. “It’s not very pretty, is it? But then, neither are you.”

  The sound of screeching tires caught my attention. I was on the ground in tears and drool. My eyes continued to involuntarily seize shut, and my senses were in a roar to run. It was an impossible task as my body boiled like lava.

  A vehicle screeched to a halt in front of us. I heard the door latch open.

  “No, that’s mine!” Catarina shouted.

  I continued to listen and heard shuffling and grunting followed by an ear-piercing scream that zapped through me. I was able to pry open my eyes enough to allow me to scramble on all fours to a house near me. I didn’t know what was happening, but I knew I was in danger.

  “I’ll be back for you,” a deep, gravelly voice threatened.

  The sound of spinning tires biting at the pavement resonated down the quiet residential road. The racing engine and tires peeled around a corner, assuring me the vehicle was gone.

  It was Dagor. I knew his voice too well. He must have the trophy now.

  “Cat?” I called out. My watery vision was blurred and shapeless. Hard as I tried, I couldn’t see Catarina.

  I was alone.

  Chapter 12

  I had two dollars and a cell phone. The only people I trusted to help me were Greyson and Remy. Even though this problem originally stemmed from Caleb’s trophy, I didn’t see how he could help. Greyson and Remy had resources at their disposal.

  I dug into my pocket and extracted my phone. Through my blurry vision I was able to decipher Greyson’s name in my contact list. I pressed it and waited.

  “Fiona Watkins speaking. How may I help you?”

  I squinted at the phone to make sure I’d dialed properly.

  “Hello?” she asked.

  “Is Greyson there?” I asked, confused.

  “Yes, he is. He can’t take your call.”

  “I need to speak with him. It’s urgent.”

  “I’m sorry, Nadia, but he’s busy and has to concentrate on work right now. He doesn’t have time to spend with you.”

  “How did you know it was me?”

  “Caller ID. Please don’t call again,” she said in a pleasant voice and hung up.

  I rolled over on my back in defeat. Something squishy pressed into my back. Propping myself up on my elbow, I whimpered. I didn’t need eyesight to tell me what I’d just rolled in. Even though my sinuses were haywire, the stench was enough to reveal dog poop. If I wasn’t already crying from the pepper spray, I’d be crying over the dog-poop patty stuck to my back.

  I fumbled with my phone and dialed Remy.

  “Fiona Watkins speaking. How may I help you?”

  “Where’s Remy?”

  “Greyson’s and Remy’s calls are being forwarded to me,” Fiona said. “Don’t bother trying to call Steffi next. She’s under strict orders not to let any personal phone calls through.”

  “You’re blocking your boss’s personal phone calls?”

  “I’ve been charged with the task of helping Greyson get his casino in order. He needs to focus on work, not other people’s personal problems.”

  Sudden panic jolted me. “Where’s Mya?”

  “How should I know? She’s probably at home.”

  “Didn’t she talk to Greyson this morning?”

  “No, I sent her away. Greyson has important work to do. Not that I could expect a poker player to understand,” she said and hung up.

  I heard the call end with the finality of a door slamming shut. I cried, adding to my already-streaming tears. Mya was a sitting duck for Dagor. I had no money, nowhere to go, and Greyson was blinded by a miniskirt and heels . . . and I had a back full of dog poop!

  I don’t know how long I was on the ground crying and wiping my nose with my shirt collar. I was a disgusting mess, but there was nothing I could do. My sinuses were draining faster than I could wipe them.

  “Nadia!”

  I was able to see Sergio running into my line of vision. Beyond grateful, I wanted to give him puppy kisses all over his face for finding me. But I was covered in my own slime, so I was pretty sure he wouldn’t be too thrilled. Plus, it might cross the friendship line I wanted to keep on the straight and narrow.

  “Honey, are you okay?” Sergio asked, kneeling next to me. He brushed a trailing tear away.

  I shook my head. “Cat sprayed me with pepper spray. I feel like crap, and there is crap on the back of my shirt.”

  “I wondered what smelled,” he said.

  I wanted to laugh hysterically at the ridiculous situation, but I couldn’t. Every inch of my upper body was burning out of control.

  “Take off your shirt. You can wear mine until you’re able to change clothes,” he said, tugging his shirt off.

  “Turn around.”

  When he turned around, and I was pretty sure there was no possible way he could see me, I eased out of my shirt, making sure none of the poop traveled anywhere else. I slipped on his plain black T-shirt. Since Sergio wasn’t much taller than I was, the shirt nearly fit.

  “You can turn around. I’m decent. Thank you for your shirt. What should I do with mine?”

  “Why don’t you leave it here? We wouldn’t want to be charged with poop theft.”

  Ordinarily I might object to discarding a shirt in someone’s yard. But it was covered in poop, and I felt like poop. I dropped the shirt unceremoniously onto the ground.

  “How did you find me?” I asked as he steered me to his truck.

  “Dagor gave me your location and ordered me to abduct you.”

  I froze in my spot.

  “Come to the truck. I have some treated wipes that’ll take the chemical burn away.”

  “Why, so you can bring me to Dagor?”

  “My little poker chip, do you believe I’d bring you to Dagor?”

  “You did once.”

  He sighed and turned toward his truck. I stood there waiting for him to leave me stranded or to come back with a weapon and force me into the truck. Either way, I was in no shape to run away; my peppered lungs wouldn’t carry me a block.

  He rummaged around on the truck’s passenger side. I hoped whatever weapon he picked out wouldn’t hurt too much. My hands still ached from my Dagor walloping. He kicked the truck door shut and returned.

  “Close your eyes,” he instructed.

  I followed his command and squeezed my eyes shut. A cool cloth soothed my pepper-irritated eyelids then traveled around my eyes and nose. He wiped the surfaces of my face, neck, and arms. The burning began to dull.

  “Open your eyes,” he instructed.

  I opened them to see he was staring directly into my eyes, inspecting them.

  “Are you able to use eye drops?” he asked.

  I nodded, and he handed me a small bottle.

  “Make sure to flood the eye so it completely washes and drains.”

  I tilted my head back and squeezed the bottle for the drops to fall. My eyeli
d blinked the solution away. I was able to drip enough into each eye to relieve some burning.

  “You can take a shower at my place. You’ll feel better.”

  “No, I’m not going. You’ll take me to Dagor.”

  “I promise you I won’t.” Sergio coaxed me to the truck.

  I instantly believed him. Something about Sergio felt warm and comfortable while he was wiping away the pepper spray. I climbed into his truck, and he hopped in. I didn’t ask him where we were headed when he pulled from the curb, though I assumed it was to his apartment. I either had to trust him or jump from the truck and run. I wasn’t about to jump.

  “I could never hurt you. I hope you know that,” Sergio said as he drove. “I couldn’t bring you to Dagor for him to hurt you either. What happened was an accident. I was supposed to take you to Dagor’s yesterday, but I wasn’t going to. He jumped the gun and trailed us. I tried to lose him in the tight alley. I had no idea it was a dead end. I was going to come and get you. I knew Dagor wasn’t going to kill you right then and there, but I didn’t know how brutally he was going to treat you. I drove home to ditch the moped and grab my gun. I should have had it on me, but I was afraid you would notice. The moped doesn’t allow for concealed weapons. I keep kicking myself for not being prepared. When I returned home, I found I had an unwanted visitor pointing a gun at my head. And there I was without a gun.” He shook his head.

  I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t even sure what to say. I didn’t know this side of Sergio. I only knew bits and pieces, but it didn’t create a full picture.

  “Luckily, he was only after the trophy and not my life. He left without wasting too much valuable time but threatened to be back. You don’t even know how relieved I was, not only that he spared my life, but that I was able to come and find you.

  “Nadia, this is all new to me,” he confessed. “My life before this wasn’t guns and secret trophies. My life revolved around my mundane private investigations. It’s mostly digging through files and data. I’ve never had to use a gun during investigations, but I have been pepper sprayed before, which is why I’m always prepared. Has the burning dulled yet?”