“You look beautiful,” he said.
Theo never met Cassie, but I felt as if he were staring like there were two of me, one beside the other, and it was with rare endearment that his lips lifted as his brows came down. My hand unclenched, as if I could hold Cassie’s through the air.
I opened my mouth to say thank you, to hopefully extend this unique, stupefying moment that was between Theo, me and Cassie, but it was broken.
“Are you hungry?”
Rada appeared on my left, and at her suggestion, my stomach rumbled my answer.
“Good,” she said. “I’m having a few small things made, so we can pick while we talk.”
I suppressed a sigh. Playing often caused a lot of hor d’euvres to be passed under my nose, as it was easier to eat small bites in order to play big games, but I sorely missed big steak dinners and the buttery mound of mashed potatoes that usually went beside it.
“Shall we lay out the ground rules?” Rada asked, perching on the same sofa-chair she’d chosen previously. It was the perfect position to take in the entire room, and everybody in it. A hidden throne. It resembled every other gray decoration, but so thoughtfully placed that one wouldn’t miss a thing—from the archway into the foyer to the hidden door carved out of the wainscoted wall leading to what I supposed was a hallway to the kitchen. Rada’s staff came and went only through that entrance.
On cue, a staff member unobtrusively pushed through the door carrying a tray of finger sandwiches.
My stomach frowned.
Theo thanked the woman as she set down the tray in the middle of us but seemed to sense my disappointment because he cut a warning my way before reaching for cucumber-stuffed bread that was maybe a third of the size of his palm print.
“I’ve spoken to my source,” Rada said, with no acknowledgement of her staffer between us. “And he’s confirmed Trace’s presence, of a sort, at the game tonight.”
“Any chance you want to name that source?” Theo asked.
“Of course not,” Rada said.
“Then how can we know he’s credible?”
“If you consider me to be trustworthy, or,” she allowed, “trustworthy enough, then you may also consider him to be so.”
Theo tensed, but I cut in. “This is what we have, Sax. We might as well go with it.”
“Considering Trace isn’t even keeping his own family in the loop, I would say you should,” Rada added. “Why is he keeping away, anyway? I thought he and your father were close.”
“They are,” Theo said. “But my father tends to … punish. After the bust involving Scarlet, Trace didn’t want to return. I assume he wanted to make an independent name for himself, make our father proud.”
“Yes, and how’s that going?” Rada asked.
“He’s making money,” was all Theo said.
“And piling up bodies, from what I hear.” She slid a glance over at me. “Female ones.”
“Trace is out of control, which is why my father wants him back.”
“Assuming you can catch him,” Rada said. “Do you really think you’re the only one who’s looking for this man? The eldest Saxon brother is making enemies as much as he’s collecting bodies. The FBI has him on their Most Wanted list, don’t they? Which makes me wonder…” Rada leaned forward as I stiffened, “what price is all this to you, Sax? What terrible situation have you gotten yourself into? And bringing her in, no less.”
To give myself something to do other than slap the sneer off Rada’s carefully lipsticked face, I reached for a stupid mini-sandwich.
“Enough family history. Give us what we need, Rada,” Theo said.
“Oh, I do so love it when you say my name,” she purred.
This time, I stiffened for all too different reasons.
“Explain the room.”
Theo’s tone left little room for argument, and while it was clear Rada still wanted to play, she relented and sat back. “It’s at the Duke of Buchanan’s house.”
“Do I have to…” I scratched at my left arm, wishing I had a drink to hide any nervous movements. “I dunno, approach him in a certain way when I’m there? Curtsy?”
“Not at all.” Rada waved me off. “Many families have royal titles, cousins of cousins of in-laws of heirs, though they’re more decorative monikers these days. I wouldn’t pay much attention to it. In any case, this particular House is run by his son, Henry Wittacker. Young, often stupid, but knows how to run games.”
“Security?” Theo asked.
“Plenty.” Rada paused to sip her wine. “He has a room devoted to it, monitors displaying cameras located all throughout the playroom. Two men manning it, usually. One is a retired detective, the other is a former MMA fighter.”
I raised my brows. “That’s some polarity.”
“To add further color, the fighter is named Edgar and the detective, Steve.”
“Huh.”
“Why would Trace go to a game so heavily taped?”
Rada raised a brow. “What makes you think he’s going there personally?”
Theo shook his head, thinking. “That’s not like him. To do work he can easily assign.”
“He’s desperate,” I said, and they both glanced at me like I’d magically poofed myself into existence. “Trace needs a big play. So far, he’s been collecting in side games, not making too much, or too little. Drawing the least attention possible. You agree with that, right?” I asked Theo, and he nodded.
“Now, well, it’s been two years,” I continued. And thought of myself. “He’s tired. Not as careful. Essentially, ready to come home but afraid to, and so he’s taking it out on random victims he’s coming across. Scraping as much money together as he can. And becoming paranoid. Trace is losing his touch, which is not only bringing us closer to him, but—”
I cut myself off. I’d become so absorbed, thinking so hard of Trace and his motivations, I’d almost brought the FBI into the conversation, and the least I could do to talk about them, the better. Theo was watching, and I’d be a fool to assume I was so talented I could continue flying under his radar.
Not if I couldn’t shut up about the police.
“We need to catch him before they do,” Theo surmised, and while he was calm, I worked overtime to remain the same. “How do you assume all this?”
“Drea. Her bruises.” The look on her face. “That’s not the sign of a man in control.”
“You’re right,” Theo said. He put down the sandwich he hadn’t bothered to eat. “This may be our last chance. You were able to find him,” Theo said to Rada.
“There’s nothing to stop the cops from doing the same kind of research,” Rada said. “Our families have deep, loyal ties. Just as if you would call me for help, I’d assist, and just as you’d ask me to keep a secret, I would. Trace used a connection, and if the police get close to me, I’ll swear up and down I haven’t seen him and don’t know anything about where he could be.”
“Have you seen him?” I asked, and Rada startled. Yet, there was something in her tone…
“Of course not,” she said. “Any man smart enough would know to play under pseudonyms. His happens to be a form of communication we use when we’re down on our luck.”
“I’m sorry, we?”
Why did I continue to feel like I’d just walked in on an intimate conversation between Theo and Rada?
“Yes,” Rada said.
Neither decided to fill me in. Perhaps they were waiting for me to answer my own question, and given enough time, I did. We. The mafia.
It was easy to forget what kind of chain Theo was a part of, titanium and strong. Unbreakable. It was an underworld family containing so many links, far-reaching, worldwide. Always there when you needed them, as well as when you didn’t. The Theo I remembered wanted to break away from such strangulation. Yet, here he was, working for his father again in bringing his psychotic brother back into the family.
I went to his scar. What did Gordon Saxon do to you to bring you back into his clu
tches? I wanted to ask him. It had to be something so sinister, so nightmarishly cruel, that Theo couldn’t refuse.
I thought of Chenko, and the promise he made me swear to.
Theo had made sure he had nothing left of value to give. Nothing except … himself, in favor of others.
But who?
Theo’s younger brother. Theo loved Ward, that I knew. Their father now resorted to threats against his youngest and last son.
Disgust curdled on the back of my tongue. Of course Gordon would. And of course Theo would do anything protect him. Including submitting to permanent mutilation on his angelic face.
Gordon W. Saxon. Oh, how I hated that man.
“You’ve played there before?” Theo asked Rada. I jarred back to the present.
“Many times,” she said.
“All right. Tell us the layout.”
Rada outlined her mental blueprint of the poker room, and while her staff drifted in and out, refilling our waters and her wine, I paid particular attention to her description of the players. Eight took to the table, including the duke’s son. Investors mainly, venture capitalists, a couple of others with royal monikers, including a knighted Sir Kingston. It was rare to have a female player at the felt, but foreigners often came and went, so having an American at the table wouldn’t be uncharacteristic.
Trace himself wouldn’t be there, due to the notoriety of his face. That was a relief—Trace would recognize me on sight, even with new chocolate locks.
“How do you know he’s Trace’s horse?” Theo bent forward, resting his elbows on his thighs.
“Trace has chosen a great player, but Mel is a talker,” she said, then smiled. “And I love to be spoken to.”
“Is he Trace’s only horse?”
“He’s the only one I know.” Rada gave a dainty shrug. “But if he were smart, he’d have many horses playing at many tables.”
“I don’t get it,” I spoke up. “Why would this Mel agree to Trace as his backer? Does he not watch the news? Trace has got a reward on his head, both by his family and the FBI. Why isn’t he giving Trace up?”
“Because the split is eighty-twenty,” Rada answered.
I fell back against the chair. “Wow. Shit.”
“Then Trace has to have more than one horse,” Theo said. “We’re lucky we found one.”
“We have to assume Mel’s a liability,” I said to Theo. “He’s already spoken to Rada. Who knows who else he’s bragged to.”
“Yeah. Trace is going to put an end to it soon,” Theo said.
“Or end Mel,” I added.
“He wouldn’t—can’t,” Rada said. “Mel’s too well known.”
I snorted. “That won’t stop him.”
“Your job tonight is to watch Mel’s plays,” Theo said to me. “Knowing my brother’s desperation, Mel will be playing to win as much as he can, but not so steep that it’d be out of character for him.”
“And I need to do what I can to encourage a high pot, and allow Mel to win,” I said.
“Yes.” Lifting, Theo splayed his hands on his thighs. “Then we can follow him once the game has ended, see if he leads us to my brother. Are we set?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m confident.”
“Wonderful.” Rada snapped her fingers, and the butler appeared with a wad of cash. She then handed it to me. “Welcome to my stable, little princess.”
I gifted her with my most special smile. “Is my cut also eighty percent?”
She laughed. I took that as a no.
One of these days, I thought as I stood, I’m going to play for me only. And keep all the damn money.
Theo cupped my elbow and I used his assistance to slip on my heels.
We said our good-byes to Rada, and while I knew we were committing to a deal with a snake, at least I knew the type of venom this one carried. All Rada wanted in this instance was money, and I would give it to her.
Many thought poker was a gamble, based purely on luck. It was nothing like that. Probabilities, statistics, knowing how to keep the pot low when you had a precarious hand or the subtleties of tricking your opponents to bet high required both a skill for mathematics and people. It was a type of tai chi that if done right, one could make it a lucrative career.
“The plan is as follows,” Theo said as we exited Rada’s mansion and went down the steps. I made sure he couldn’t see my eye-roll at his as follows part. “Draw no attention to yourself. Bet well, play better, but don’t astound anyone. Can I count on you to do that?”
“Of course.”
“I mean it, Scarlet.”
“I’m not an idiot. I’m aware how important this night is, and no greed of mine is going to ruin it.”
“Or ego.”
“Yes, because that’s something you’re unfamiliar with.”
“Scarlet,” he warned.
“All right. No, my ego will not become a part of this night at all. Not one iota.”
“You’re over-selling it.”
“The way this conversation is going, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say we didn’t just have shower sex.”
Theo skipped a step.
I smiled and walked ahead.
Point, Scarlet.
When we reached the car, Theo said behind me, “I’m only trying to keep you safe.”
“I know,” I said to him, but it was with unintended sadness.
“If all goes well, tonight will be it. You do this, then we’re done.”
I nodded. Went back to playing with my necklace, my stomach whirling with washing machine precision.
“I get it,” I said, but added a smile to my flat tone. “It’s just sex.”
“You think I’m not putting your interests first?” he asked, pulling open the passenger-side car door. My gut was shot by that annoying trigger called hope. Theo stitched over the ache by adding, “I’m getting you some hamburgers first.”
19 Twinless Twins
The waxy burger paper crunched beneath my grip and my fingers now smelled like cheese, but my stomach had formed into a full, meaty smile.
I reached into the cupholder between Theo and me, nabbing some fries.
“You were hungry,” Theo said, staring out into the road.
“Famished. What I’m wondering,” I said once I swallowed, “is how you’ve managed to subsist on half a slice of cucumber. You haven’t eaten anything.”
“I’ll have time once you’re inside.”
I paused in licking salt off my fingers. “Oh?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, the left turn signal clicking in the resulting silence.
“But … it could take hours.”
“I’m aware.”
“And you’re just going to stay in this car?”
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
The car coasted to a stop on the side of the road, a golden wash covering the hill in front of me, a curved horizon to my right. The glow of the duke’s house created its own sunlight during what should be moonlight.
Theo turned so he faced me, dead on. “I want you to feel like when you’re in there, you’re covered. That no matter what happens, I’ll be here in case anything goes wrong.”
The interior was so dark as to be black, but Theo’s eyes glinted through like chipped, broken glass.
“I’m pretty good at having my own back,” I said, but it wasn’t with my normal gusto. Any time Theo caught me in his sights, my resolve unraveled. Not so much as to become loose strands pooled at my feet, but enough to think I needed him.
“I have no doubt about that,” he said, and what was left unsaid was, I forced you to be that way when I left you. “But I’m here now, so keep your phone on.”
“I get my phone back?” I dropped the napkin I’d been using to clean up, but then thought, “They’ll search me. There’s no way MMA Edgar and Detective Steve won’t notice my phone lighting up.”
“Your phone can be traced by the FBI. So this is a burner. And Rada made a ca
ll. You’re being treated as a VIP so you’ll avoid the search.”
“Oh, yeah? What have you guys made me to avoid something like that? A sheik’s son’s fiancée?”
Theo said nothing.
“You’ve seriously made me the heiress to a sheik dynasty?”
“Named Vivienne Mathis. Rada also has a special relationship with Henry Whittacker.”
“Meaning she’s slept with him,” I said.
“Just keep your phone on,” Theo repeated. “I’ll hear what I need.”
“All right,” I sighed.
Theo started the car and drove slowly around the bend of the hill and up a long, curved driveway. “I’ll drop you off, then stay close by. The code word for if you need me immediately can be…”
“Cassie,” I blurted. He glanced over, and I nodded my affirmation. “I can bring the name up in conversation easily enough, but it’s not something I’d be forced to say unless it was deliberate. It’s perfect.”
“Yes. It is.”
“Cassie for the win, then,” I said as we reached the entrance to another, more acre-driven mansion. “Okay. This is it.”
“I’m not going to wish you good luck.”
“Don’t need you to.” On impulse, I leaned in to kiss the rasp of his cheek. “That’s enough.”
I’d been studying him closely. It was why I noticed the subtle softening of his features, a crack in his shell before he paved over the vulnerability.
“Don’t screw up,” he said.
I didn’t answer, and instead swept out of the car, the red gown whisking at my ankles and adding a decadence that was lacking at the heart of me.
I fished in my small clutch for a mint, popped it in, then stepped toward the doors.
“Name?” asked the man at the doors, clad in a black-piece suit.
He was the only one out here, save for the purr of Theo’s engine as he drove back off into the night. The neighborhood was expansive with land but light on houses. It was a borough on the outskirts of London, probably something ending in “-shire” or “-heath.” An exclusive, protected suburb in which London’s elite traveled into the figurative underworld to meet their Hades. In this case, the devil was in the cards.
“Vivienne,” I said to the figure. He glanced at his tablet. “Mathis.”
WIN THE GAME Page 15
