The getting ready part was easy. I took my time with my make-up, adding black cat-eyes to my lids and a sweep of sparkling, luscious lip gloss. Highlighter shone against my cheeks and collarbone, and my skin was supple-soft from the hotel’s lotion.
I didn’t want to leave all of myself behind, so I sprayed my signature peony scent that my former best friend, Verily, had bought me years ago and I still restocked regularly. I spritzed it into the air and walked through the cloud, clad in my dress but barefoot, the scent bringing with it images of Theo grazing his nose against my neck, sweeping up until his tongue hit the lobe of my ear.
I closed my eyes against the stinging after-bite of that remembrance.
The dreaded shoes were next. Gorgeous black heels with glittering threads, they clicked with high-class authority but clamped like a pit bull’s jaws.
No matter. The pain would keep me grounded.
Neri and his people probably wouldn’t let me bring a purse, or if I did, it would be searched so specifically even the lining wouldn’t survive, so I decided to use a very small clutch instead. I did, however, sift through my purse until I found what I needed and slipped two dissolvable capsules between my cleavage.
If my military math was correct, there was still forty-five minutes until I was meant to be ferried away by a car, and I intended to utilize that time by ordering a nice, cold, stiff drink at the lobby bar. Maybe two.
Kai wasn’t anywhere to be seen once I reached the ground floor, and I’d had my eyes peeled to spot any sign of him from the elevator to the entrance.
I took up an unhurried position at the bar, still watchful, and ordered scotch on the rocks. A smattering of men and women had the same intentions I did, but most kept to themselves and their vice of choice. I wasn’t sure if five-star hotel lobbies still housed escorts and their clients, but glancing about casually, there were a few other gorgeously dressed women speaking low in their partner’s ears.
The scotch hit like fire in the back of my throat, but it was a needed burn. I sipped, alone, swirling my drink and staring into it like I could read my future.
“Could I buy you another one?”
I glanced up, a polite fuck off ready to roll off my lips, when an expression was caught in my periphery. No, a face.
Theo.
I slipped off my stool, still clutching my scotch, peering furiously at the spot on the other side of the bar.
“You all right, honey?”
The same voice as before, a Texas drawl, was owned by a weathered cowboy face older than my father’s.
“No, thank you,” I said, speaking to him but staring off in an entirely different direction. “I mean yes, I’m fine, but I don’t need another drink.”
“Your loss,” he said, then made his way to the corner where another woman in a nice dress sat on her own.
Where was he?
My shoulders slumped. It was my subconscious, the part of my mind forever craving Theo and crafting him out of the reflections of mirrors, bottles, and wood varnish.
Fighting back frustrated tears, I finished my drink in one gulp. The ice clanked against my front teeth.
How much longer can you go on this way, Letty?
I signaled to the bartender. “One shot of chilled Patron.”
He nodded, and I waited for the liquid that would drown out any further questions.
“Miss Rhodes?” A gentle hand landed on my elbow. “I’m the night concierge. I believe your vehicle is here.”
My hands involuntarily clenched. “Thank you. I’ll be just a minute.”
He nodded, dapper and clean in his uniform suit. Who knew what kind of clientele would sully his guest-compliant veneer this evening, but I refused to be the first. There was no use in telling him everything, pleading with him to help me before I enter into the waiting car of LA’s preeminent arms dealer.
A fogged-over shot glass slid over to me and I downed it before it came to a stop. “Put it on my room, thirty-twelve,” I said in a rough voice, then straightened my gown and walked toward my chosen fate.
The car was a liquid black sedan, classically made by Aston Martin. I wouldn’t expect anything else from Neri, and when the suit-clad chauffeur opened the rear passenger door, I slid in with a smile, my lips still cold from the tequila.
More liquor awaited me in the side-door compartments, but I chose a bottle of ice water instead. I’d had enough alcohol to give me courage and I’d need a level head for the rest.
The ride was quiet, the chauffeur mute. I busied myself calculating whether this trip would’ve taken longer in NYC because of traffic lights at every block, or here in LA due to the long, flat roads and heavy traffic. It was a calming, boring thought that I held onto, sipping my water every now and again until forty minutes later, we drove into a circular driveway in Malibu.
The mansion was white, with Roman columns framing the wide double doors that would take two of me to lay a hand at the top. A Greek goddess fountain gushed water. As soon as the door was opened and I stepped out of the vehicle, the waterfall sound created a spa-like quality unheard of in the East Village of New York.
There was no wind this evening, and my perfected waves stayed in place as I thanked the driver and sashayed toward the door. It opened with a silent sweep as I approached, a man dressed in an all-black suit gesturing to come inside.
“Miss Rhodes,” he said as I stepped into the entryway. I recognized him from last night, one of Neri’s bodyguards.
I tipped my chin in greeting, but my gaze ping-ponged across the black and white marble flooring, the sweeping ivory staircase that unfolded in an upside-down U in front of me, and the touches of red velvet interspersed in red cushions of the loveseat nestled in the middle of the U. Drawn-back curtains showcased original paintings that were probably more expensive than the mansion that housed them.
“This way,” the bodyguard said.
I followed, choosing to study my surroundings rather than what awaited. Black, white, and red were the continued patterns as we curved behind the staircase and into one of the many white-painted doors lining the back of the house.
Was this where Neri hosted his high-stakes poker games? Illegal gambling didn’t always have to happen in clandestine basements. The higher I managed to climb in this game, the more luxurious the rooms got, the richer the clientele, the riskier the wagers. There was the feeling like this was it, as soon as I stepped into the car at the hotel. I’d reached the top.
Now there was only room to fall.
“Boss is waiting for you in there.” The bodyguard indicated the second door on the left.
With a deep breath, I turned the knob.
5 Trapped Like A Canary
“At last.”
Neri sat supine behind an incredibly large Cherrywood desk, clean of debris such as papers, pens, or anything else that would suggest he ran a legitimate business. I wondered what he needed with an office like this—a whole library of books behind him in dark wooden shelves.
I squinted and read that a lot of them were law textbooks.
Ah. Irony.
“Hello,” I said, then cleared my throat. I sounded too croaky.
“Regretting your wager last night?”
Neri stood. The dark interior matched his dark skin. It was impossible to tell his expression, but experience told me to always treat him as I would a shark.
“Not at all,” I said. “I half-hoped you were running a game this evening.”
“So you could further pick the pockets of my business partners? I think not.”
Ah. Sarcasm.
Neri came around the corner of his desk. “Your reputation has proceeded you, but you know that. Last night … that wasn’t your usual self.”
I remained stoic, standing out like a bright sapphire in the low shades of this room.
“My father designed this office,” Neri said. He was eerily keen on others’ thoughts, and I made note to keep even the slightest tic under control. “My mother, the rest. I b
elieve, once coming to America, the movie Clueless inspired her.”
I nodded like I agreed and mentally commanded my hands to relax.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“It feels very law professor,” I said. At his answering uptick of his lips, I knew he appreciated the honesty.
“Boring, stale, reeking of old cigar smoke, yes,” Neri said. “Though my father is long dead, his memory in here remains strong. And why I will not change a thing. But we won’t be staying. Come.” He held out his elbow.
After a brief hesitation, I took it.
We exited the office and there were many more bodyguards than the one I started out with. I counted six as we passed, and like dominos, they fell into step behind us. I staunched my curiosity from cricking my neck and staring behind me, keeping my attention straight ahead. My heart fluttered so hard it might as well be a canary trapped in much too small of a cage, but my steps were smooth, despite the blisters.
“I won’t insult your intelligence,” Neri said, but it was in such a low voice that combined with his accent, I had to strain to hear. “I am not leading you to a bedroom to have my way with you.”
My fingers tightened on his arm, then loosened. It was my only tell.
We turned into the deserted kitchen, where his hired chefs and staff prepared his meals, farther back in the mansion. I wondered how deep this house went.
Only the bare minimum of lights were turned on in order to find our way, and my curiosity piqued when we bypassed the dining room and wet bar, and approached patio doors.
“I do not rape my women,” Neri continued.
I nodded like he was giving me a courtesy, though inside I burned with adrenaline. I was ready for anything, constantly on alert. Neri had me bet one entire night with him, and it wouldn’t be for nothing. I was simply waiting for the axe to fall.
We headed outside to the back terrace, my arm still in his. It took every atom I possessed to prevent him from feeling what I was thinking as we stepped over the stone tiles with carefully trimmed bright green grass bordering the squares, and down another set of stairs with thick gray banisters. When I touched it for balance, it was freezing.
A roar of sound broke through the cloudless night and I jerked, instinctively drawing closer to Neri, then, realizing my mistake, boomeranging away.
“Not to worry,” he said over the noise. “Come this way.”
I was in heels, wearing a couture gown, tramping through lawn with sounds that suspiciously sounded like some mode of transport next to a man that could snap my neck with his bare hands, and like a rabbit, I curled into myself, ready to bound, eyes so wide I’m sure they were mainly white.
Lights flashed, then kept flashing, ahead of us. Blades sluiced through the air, creating artificial wind that ripped through my hair in an instant.
A helicopter.
“After you,” he said, holding out his hand. Then, to be heard, he yelled, “Come. It won’t bite.”
Thoughts whirling, I lifted my hand to his. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to remain in this mansion. Kai was meant to be somewhere close by, ready to initiate action if needed. The FBI was supposed to burst through the doors at a moment’s notice.
When I made a bet that I deliberately lost to spend a night with a young, hungry, ruthless don by the name of Neri Sebastiani, Kai was pissed but he’d follow. I knew he would.
And now I wouldn’t have him. Wherever I went, I’d be on my own.
Isn’t that what you aimed for? Always wanting to be alone, the sole survivor, the only one in pain. You asked for it, Letty. I love you, but your death wish is granted.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming. Neri helped me up into the helicopter. My inner twin was right. Cassie always was. I signed up for this, and whatever happened, it would be my own fault.
“Champagne?” Neri asked once he’d settled the headsets on both his and my ears. “Or perhaps something stronger?”
“Champ—bubbly is fine,” I said, then repeated myself when Neri gestured he couldn’t hear. He reached under his seat and pulled out Cristal.
“You’ll need it,” he said ominously before he popped the cork and palmed it. The sound didn’t reach my ears through the humming of the soda can I was crouched in.
No bodyguards except one shared our space and the door was promptly slammed shut. I pictured the rest outside, and if any of them studied my face through the window, it probably appeared as a stricken ghost through the glass.
We lifted off the ground as Neri handed me a glass. I pressed my other hand to the window like Kai could see me do it.
Neri leaned back. “You’re in for a treat, my dear.”
I gulped down the golden carbonation, resting against the seat, but my back was ramrod straight.
Yes, the men, the players, the House, was right. I followed through with any hand I held, I bet with purpose and never over-played my cards. I knew when to call and the best opportunity to check. I played against oil guys, finance men, trust fund kids and celebrities. I faced off with mobsters and their sons and daughters. I was part of the underground and flourished in a way I never would if I stayed legitimate, went to college, and became the administrative assistant my resume wrote me out to be. I watched drugs trade hands, lines of coke be snorted on the table, handguns be passed under. Not much made me flinch, not anymore. Until now. Prior to this moment, I was pretty good at this game. Damn good.
For a chick.
And now I was trapped like one.
6 A Luxurious Grave
The helicopter went from land to ocean in what felt like a millisecond. My legs ached fiercely from tensing them ever since the machine left the ground—and it wasn’t from fear of flying. I enjoyed flights, once I was in my seat and through the dreary battle that was the TSA. I ordered coffee or wine, stuffed headphones in, sat back, and listened to music in the seat’s arm.
Now, I clutched a crystal goblet of champagne like it could maybe help me chisel out of this flying tin can.
Neri remained unperturbed. He sipped casually at his drink, but not enough to actually drain the liquid. He, like me, was using it as a prop. But unlike myself, I had no idea why he was continuing his sobriety as we chopped through ocean air. He could have so many things in store for Scarlet Rhodes, idiot extraordinaire. I could be auctioned off to the highest sex bidder or turned into a foreign slave in a country with no extradition requirements. Cutting a quick glance to Neri’s bodyguard sitting next to him, I thought, hell, they could toss me out the door right now and have me smacking into the water before Neri lifted his glass for a third sip.
Neri didn’t bother to make conversation, which, under usual circumstances, I appreciated. But I did so want to know if he planned to bring me back to Los Angeles by the end of this.
“We agreed to only one night,” I found myself saying through the little microphone curved in front of my face. Two giant Princess Leia-type gray headphones protected my ears.
Neri glanced at me, the whites of his eyes like ivory tusks. He adjusted his headset, then spoke. “Yes, you bet as such.”
“So…” I lifted my glass, gesturing outside, “Where are we going?”
Neri might have smiled, but I couldn’t tell. “That will be up to you, my dear.”
I paused. As in, what? If I behave myself accordingly? If I choose all the right moves?
Oh, if only Neri knew.
The chopper tipped, and I braced myself on the seat though I was belted in, champagne sloshing.
“Ah,” Neri said, peering out. “We’ve arrived.”
I followed his gaze, half expecting Alcatraz. Instead, what greeted me was a slash of white carved out of the blackened saltwater, lights of our helicopter circling blurry spotlights around its target.
“A … boat?” I asked, more to myself.
“Indeed. Stay still for this,” Neri said, and leaned back himself.
As far as landing a helicopter went, which I knew nothing of, i
t was bumpy, but tame. Most of my drink landed on my forearm and not the gown. This boat had a fucking helipad, so it couldn’t be titled a boat in my head any longer. A yacht. A luxury, million-dollar yacht that only sheiks and billionaires possessed, and celebrities used as rentals.
The bodyguard went first, while the blades were still spinning, and hopped out. Once the door was open, the headsets were useless so Neri simply waved me on to go next.
I crouched out of my seat, stepping tentatively but avoiding Neri’s helping hand. My hair lifted in an instant as soon as my forehead hit fresh air, the strands tangling into a visor that obscured my vision. A hand clamped on my arm, too sweaty and hammy to be Neri’s, and I leaned into it anyway, taking the steps out of the chopper with the carefulness of a toddler wearing her mom’s heels for the first time.
He rushed me out of the blades’ arc immediately, and we came to a stop along the edges of the painted helipad target while we waited for Neri. My head tilted up, unbelieving of the fact that this boat—sorry, yacht—had at least three stories to it. And that wasn’t counting what could be under my feet.
As soon as Neri cleared, the helicopter lifted, curved slightly, then flew back whence it came.
There went my ride.
Neri lifted his eyebrows as he passed, “Welcome to the Hatari. Follow me, my dear.”
“Are we—is there a game going on?” I asked as I came up beside him. This wasn’t unheard of. A lot of high-priced poker games were played on the host’s yachts, most especially when they could cross into Mexico and enter international waters to avoid tariffs.
Was that where we were? Mexico? I grimaced. Shit.
International waters also meant Kai would never find me. Or my body, if it came to it.
We entered through sliding glass doors where the interior was well lit and I blinked against the unexpected brightness. I suddenly felt exposed in such a tight gown and quiet place. Like I’d missed the ferry to the Governor’s Ball and landed on a mafia king’s instead.
WIN THE GAME Page 3
