Poker Face

by Melissa Pearl

  With a grin I walked toward her, making sure I kept my gaze on the other side of the room as I passed. I had no idea if Sal was watching me, but I turned back once before ducking down the side corridor. Caity pressed her lips together, her eyes skittering over me ever so briefly. I took that as a sign and headed for the girls’ bathroom.

  Man, I hoped I had picked up the right clue.

  This could go so badly if I got it wrong.

  Easing the door open, I paused to listen for any noises. The room actually seemed clear, which felt miraculous, until I realized that it was still only eight-thirty in the morning. Most of Vegas was in bed.

  I slipped into the first stall and locked it behind me, leaning my head against the wall and muttering any prayer I could. In the next few minutes, all going to plan, I’d have Caity in my arms again and then I was getting her the hell out of there.

  The door swished open and I heard Caity’s voice.

  “Sorry, Sal, but I’ve gotta go.”

  “Just make it quick,” he grumbled.

  I drew in a soft breath and listened to the clip of her shoes. She paused and I took my chance, flinging the door open and snatching her arm. Dragging her into the cramped stall, I locked it behind us.

  Caity spun to face me, her eyes that vibrant blue I could swim in forever. I reached for her face, running my fingers gently over her cheek before lurching toward her. Our lips found each other easily, our hot tongues smacking together in a kiss that was made up of tears, regret, joy and desperation.

  With a heaving sob, she wrapped her arms around my neck and clung tight.

  “You’re here,” she wept, her body trembling.

  I wrapped my arms around her, squeezing until she let out a soft cry.

  It scared me and I quickly loosened my grip. “Did I hurt you?”

  Her only response was to cling a little tighter around my neck.

  “Hey, let me look.” Running my hands up her arms, I gently unwrapped them from around my neck.

  Her face was awash with tears. I frowned, noticing that one side of her face was puffy and swollen. The thick layer of makeup did a pretty good job hiding it, but I could tell a decent shiner lay beneath it. She looked battered. I could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the weight of stress she’d been living under...the suffering.

  My throat swelled, my eyes wanting to sting with tears of their own, but I couldn’t break down. Her soft cry of pain still rang in my head. Without saying a word, I gently untucked her shirt, lifting it so I could get a look at whatever was causing that grimace on her face.

  My vision blurred with a red haze. She was a mess. I ran my finger lightly over the mammoth bruise on her side. I wanted to kill whoever gave it to her. I could tell it was bad by the dark color. I didn’t know what she’d been hit with, but it must have been pretty damn hard and fast.

  “Caity,” I whispered, unable to hide my horror. She would have seen it anyway...and the rage...and the heartache.

  She pulled the shirt back down, wrestling to tuck it in. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

  “What did they do to you?” She knew what I was asking.

  Her face crumpled for a moment, her gaze reluctantly lifting to mine. I relaxed my expression, showing her that no answer could change the way I felt about her.

  Her lips trembled into a weak smile. “Santiago wants me for my sight. This guy, Miguel Vera, took me from Quella’s house and gave me to him to clear a debt. As long as I don’t screw up, he won’t let anyone touch me.”

  I nodded, not bothering to hide my scowl as I rested my hand on her hip and lightly ran my thumb over her stomach. “That bruise didn’t happen by magic, babe.”

  “I’d take a couple of broken ribs over what Bruno wants to do to me.” Her voice faded into a pitiful whisper. She lunged back into my arms. “Don’t let me go,” she whispered against my neck. “Don’t ever let me go.”

  “I’m not planning on it.” I kissed the side of her face, wanting to crush her to me, but knowing I couldn’t. “I’ve got to get you out of here.”

  She went rigid in my arms before jolting away from me. “You can’t. It’s too dangerous.” Her lips moved a couple of times, obviously battling her words. She finally sucked in a quivering breath and blurted, “You can’t stay in Vegas, Eric.”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  “But your life.” She shook her head. “I don’t have time to explain, but—”

  “I know about the Marchant thing.”

  Her eyes rounded with surprise. “How? That’s why I broke up with—. Kaplan promised me she wouldn’t post that envelope!”

  I gave her a gentle smile, hoping she’d read my gratitude at her sacrifice. Brushing her face with the back of my knuckles, I skimmed her lips with my thumb. “Rhodes told me. He’s here. ”

  Her lips parted, a flash of relief washing over her face.

  I wrestled for a soft tone, still hating the fact that she and Rhodes had worked so closely together and I hadn’t even known about it. “He’s been helping me.”

  “And Kaplan?”

  I couldn’t hide my dark look. Whether she was reading me or not, she’d know exactly how I felt.

  Her lips turned into a sad frown. “She cut me loose?”

  My head bobbed.

  Caity’s face bunched, her lips quivering. I could tell she wanted to let out a string of cursing insults, but instead she expelled an appalled scoff and shook her head.

  Holding her face, I turned those sad lips toward mine and tried to kiss away the sorrow, the hurt, the betrayal. I couldn’t make up for all she’d been through, but I wanted to try. I wanted her to know that I’d never cut her loose. I’d never turn my back on her.

  A loud bang on the door pulled us apart. “Hurry up!”

  The big guy’s bellow made Caity flinch. She hissed and reached for her side, closing her eyes and then putting on a brave smile when she re-opened them and caught my worry. “I’ll be all right.” She squeezed my forearm and reached for the lock.

  “Wait,” I whispered, panic making my voice quake.

  “If he catches you in here, you’re dead.”

  “But I—”

  “It’s okay. I know you’re going to get me out. They’re holding me in the penthouse suite of this casino, so...”

  “I know. A contact of Rhodes spotted you with Santiago at a poker game on Friday. That’s why we’re here.”

  She touched my face with a sweet smile. “Then I guess I don’t have anything to worry about, because I know you, Eric Shore, and you’re not going to quit.”

  I kissed the palm of her hand. “Never.”

  Tears glassed over her eyes as she sucked in a shaky breath. “I trust you, babe, and I’ll wait for you. Just promise me you’ll stay safe.”

  “Ditto,” I croaked.

  “I’ll do my best.” Her face crumpled with agony. Reaching for her one last time, I pulled her into my arms and kissed her neck. “No matter what happens before I get you out, I love you always. Don’t ever think otherwise.” I leaned back, kissing at her tears. “You’re my girl forever and nothing can change that.”

  Her head bobbed against mine, a fresh wave of salty tears kissing my lips before she flicked open the lock.

  “I love you,” she whispered, jerking out of my arms and slapping the door closed behind her.

  I leaned my head back against the interior wall, curling my hands into two tight fists. “I love you too, Caity.”

  27

  Caitlyn

  Sal’s face was thunderous when I stepped out of the bathroom. I ripped off his mask and saw a red-cheeked man with wide eyes, a piqued fear skimming beneath the surface of his first mask. He was humiliated that I’d made him wait outside the ladies’ washroom for so long. Another layer later and I could easily see the thought of having to tell Santiago that I had been up to something made his belly quake. He was worried for both my wellbeing...and his.

  I touched his arm and gave him a grateful smile, whic
h he frowned at. His eyes darted awkwardly to the side.

  “Sorry about that, Sal.” I touched my stomach, giving him an embarrassed grimace. “I don’t know what I ate last night, but it wasn’t pretty.”

  Clearing his throat, he straightened up, his cheeks turning an even darker shade of crimson. He snatched my elbow and dragged me back to the floor. “Let’s get on with it.”

  The rest of the day flew by. I never saw Eric leave the casino. I assumed he did, because every time I glanced over my shoulder to find him, he wasn’t there. It was a relief to know he’d made it out, but another part of me grieved the loss. As the day wore on and I was taken from the casino floor and locked back in my tower, I started to wonder if the whole bathroom incident had been an apparition—just my imagination working overtime to help me survive.

  By two o’clock in the afternoon, I was convinced I was going crazy. By three I was floating on the relief that no, it had happened and somewhere outside of the Devil’s Palace, plans were being made to swoop in and rescue me.

  Would it be soon?

  Would Rhodes come in backed up with a dozen agents, guns blazing and arrest warrants being fired out just as fast?

  Or maybe it’d be a stealth operation—silent ninjas in the night bundling me up and carrying me away down some fire escape.

  Or maybe they’d decide it was too impossible. Santiago was a powerful man. Rhodes wouldn’t want to take him on. He could get in huge trouble. I wasn’t worth it!

  At four thirty-five, I was back to insanity.

  It was a demented day, to say the very least.

  When Monique bustled into my room at five, I’d bitten my nails down to nubs. She took my hands with a small frown and tutted. “That will not do.”

  Pulling me up, she dragged me out of the room and down a few floors to a beauty salon with Sal once again following in our wake. Poor guy, he did not look impressed.

  Plonking me in a chair, Monique kept her hands on my shoulders as she spoke over my head to the nail technician.

  “False, blood red, rounded edge.”

  I looked up to give her a frown—as if I’d ever wear blood red nails—but Monique was already spinning away. The beautician gave me a tight smile and dipped my chomped-up nails into a bowl of sweet-smelling liquid.

  An hour later, I was collected by Sal and returned to my room where I found Monique laying out different dresses—all black, all skimpy and all so not me I actually laughed when I approached the bed.

  Picking up the sheer black material of the third dress, I shook my head. “He can’t be serious.” I lifted my hands. “Blood red nails? Monique, they look awful! It’s taking every ounce of willpower I possess not to rip them off my fingers.”

  She gave me a sad smile and muttered, “Orders are orders.”

  My hand dropped to my side, my eyes narrowing as I studied her.

  She seemed edgy, which sent my erratic brain into overdrive. Her mask fell off easily to show me her fear, which somehow felt exaggerated in my tenuous state. “What’s the matter?”

  I was more scared for me than her. That sounded selfish, but I could sense her fear was not an inward turmoil, but more of an outward pouring of sympathy and concern. I was the only other person in the room and it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that Monique’s jitters were solely for my benefit.

  She didn’t answer me, pressing her lips together and collecting up one of the dresses, holding it against me and tipping her head. “I think I like this one the best, but I’m wondering if hot pants would be better. He does love gold.”

  I snatched the dress away, throwing it onto the bed. “Where am I going?”

  Her eyes glassed over, her face crumpling in sick agony. “Rumors spread quickly in this town, Carlotta.”

  Apprehension flittered through me. “What does that mean?”

  “He’s heard about you.” Her trembling whisper and wide eyes were doing me no favors.

  I grabbed her hands, squeezing her fingers and shaking them as I lost my battle with composure. “Who, Monique? Where is Santiago taking me tonight?”

  “Club Impulse.” She swallowed. “Lucian Marchant wants to meet you.”

  Dropping her hands, I stumbled back, my ears ringing.

  I knew then that all my fears of hallucination were in fact false, because the reality that I was being taken to the one place Eric couldn’t go crushed my hope to dust.

  There would be no rescue this night.

  Closing my eyes, I battled the nausea coursing through my body in rounding waves that made me feel like I was stranded in the middle of a maelstrom.

  Santiago was unpredictable.

  If he suddenly changed his mind and sold me to Marchant, I’d never be free.

  28

  Eric

  I’d run back to the motel so hard and fast it’d taken me a few minutes to catch my breath. Dad stood there huffing like a rhino, while Rhodes paced the room, agitated with my gasping excitement.

  “I found her.” I finally puffed. “I spoke to her.”

  “You what?” Rhodes spun to face me, his eyes wide. “You actually spoke to her?”

  “Yeah,” I nodded.

  “Is she okay?”

  I tipped my head to the side, the lump in my throat making it impossible to answer that question. I blinked a couple of times and ground my teeth together.

  “Where’d you see her?” Rhodes snapped.

  “She was on the casino floor with this big bodyguard and she saw me. I tried to approach her, but quickly realized it was too risky.”

  “So how’d you talk to her?” Dad had his arms crossed, his fingers pinching into his biceps.

  “I went and hid in the girls’ bathroom and she met me in there.”

  “Which bathroom?”

  “Which casino?”

  The men asked in unison.

  I eyed them carefully before finally muttering, “Palacio del Diablo.”

  “You went in there!” Rhodes looked ready to throttle me; Dad wasn’t far behind.

  I held up my hands in surrender and pulled out a chair. “Let me tell you what I know.”

  We sat for the next hour going over my brief conversation with Caity. I didn’t miss any details, seething my way through her possible broken ribs and the shiner on her cheek. Rhodes and Dad peppered me with so many questions that soon made me realize how little I’d actually gained from her.

  “Okay, well, now that we know where they’ve got her, we need to head back in for some more recon.”

  We all nodded, got ready and spent the rest of the afternoon cruising around every accessible area of Palacio del Diablo.

  “I still haven’t seen her,” Rhodes mumbled as he leaned against the slot machine I was being forced to play.

  The guys both said it would look more legit, so for the last half hour, I’d been sitting there, feeding the machine with coins. I’d won back ten bucks so far, hardly mind-blowing.

  “We’ve been here all afternoon and zip.”

  I glared at the FBI agent and pointed. “She walked down those stairs with the big guy.”

  “Which means she probably came out of the gold elevator.” Dad stood behind me. His jitters were driving me nuts. He couldn’t stand still in this place. He was like a high-alert Marine, ready to yank my collar and drag me out of here if something even smelled out of place. It was getting damn irritating. “The most important thing is that we have a couple of good escape routes mapped out. All we need to figure out now is how to actually get Caity out with us.”

  I tapped my finger on the big plastic button and watched the numbers and symbols twirl. I was so sick of this. I just wanted to snatch Caity and run. I’d proposed the idea on the way over, but had been quickly shot down.

  “Are you insane?”

  “You wouldn’t even make it out the door.”

  “And when they caught us, which they would, we’d be dead.”

  “These are criminals we’re dealing with.”

 
“Not uptight businessmen.”

  “We need to be thoughtful.”

  “Scope the place out.”

  The two men took turns barking at me all the way to the casino. I felt like I was being told off by my parents. All I wanted to do was yell in their faces that I wasn’t stupid, but my girl was suffering and I couldn’t just sit around and do nothing while that happened!

  Instead, I shoved my hands in my pockets and let them boss me around. I’d played good boy all afternoon.

  I checked my watch. Eight-thirty.

  Twelve hours ago I’d been kissing Caity in a bathroom stall.

  My slot machine blipped and whizzed, tinkling excitedly as it spat out a cup full of coins. Dad raised his hand in a cheer, exaggerating it in order to look part of the crowd. I forced a smile and tried for jovial, but the expression melted off my face as the gold elevator opened and four people stepped out.

  “Santiago,” Rhodes murmured. “And the guy on his right is Bruno.”

  Dad nodded, but I couldn’t move. My eyes were locked on a pair of slender legs, made slutty with a pair of fishnet stockings and stiletto heels. My eyes traveled up her thin frame taking in her ridiculously tight shorts that looked like they were made out of gold. Her upper half was dressed in a top so tight it looked painted on. It appeared to be made from soft leather with strips of sheer red material behind it, like a bear had slashed at her clothing. Three red claw marks across her upper body; kind of symbolic in a way.

  She obviously wasn’t wearing a bra. The sheer fabric within the shirt exposed the top and bottom edge of her right breast, yet hid her nipple...just. The mammoth bruise on her side was tucked into hiding, but her back was completely exposed, covered only by the bikini-string straps holding the shirt onto her body. It was obvious she was very strategically dressed, her brutal injury remaining a secret behind scintillating attire that would make guys’ mouths water.