I’m back in my room.
Chapter 12
Elle
I stumble out of the casino, not caring to know where I’m going.
In the humid heat, I can hardly breathe, the muggy air barely passing through my constricted throat. My eyes fixed on the shadow-filled sidewalk, I plod along, step after step. I feel numb, inside and out.
It feels like I’ve walked for hours when I reach a T-intersection. Unable to choose left or right, I slump down on the curb of the cobbled road and bury my head in my hands. What am I going to do? Unwelcome thoughts enter my mind, mulling over the contents of the video again and again, trying to make sense of it all.
Is it true what Slick Hair said? That Ryder was free to leave, but decided not to? The video clearly showed the door was open, so he wasn’t locked up. If he were held against his will, surely he would have pushed her away and made a run for it. She was young, weak, unarmed—hardly a threat.
Why didn’t he fend off her advances? I could tell he tried to, when she first came in, but I guess her dropping her clothes was all it took for him to act on his obvious attraction to her. And it’s only been what? Barely a day since he’s been with me, and the bastard couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. Ironic, considering he prides himself on always being in control.
Unless—he’s been pretending all along.
The last time I saw him, he was distant, distracted. I assumed it was pressure from work, but it could have been dissatisfaction with me. He’s told me about his life before he met me, how he used escorts to fulfill his needs, on a regular basis. So how could he turn down this perfect opportunity, one he believed he could get away with?
The sickening images flash in my mind yet again: the way the girl shamelessly threw herself on Ryder; the way he lay on his back—clearly, unmistakably aroused; the way he shifted her underneath him and started making those horrible, horrible movements.
I press my fingers hard against my eyelids, desperate to keep the tears at bay. I don’t want to cry. I’m not crying over an asshole who claims he loves me one minute and fucks the first available slut the next.
Sparks of fury start firing inside my chest. I can’t believe this is happening to me. All I believed in, all I felt for him is a lie. He is the only man who has ever owned my heart, and probably the only one who ever will. Because I don’t think I’ll ever be able to piece it back together again.
As the aching feeling of betrayal churns inside of me, tears well up again. I need to forget. I need to move on.
But when a hand on my back and a familiar voice asks, “Are you all right?”, I look up, and the tears I tried to suppress start trickling down.
“Did they hurt you?”
I briefly lift my tear-filled gaze to shake my head at Lance, my fellow player from the casino, and wipe my eyes with the back of my arm.
“Come on, let me help you up.”
Lance’s arm snakes around my waist, lifting me upright.
“Let’s get in the car.”
Only then do I notice a black SUV parked a few feet away from where we stand. Lance holds the door open and helps me inside, where I sink into a plush leather seat. He seats himself beside me before the door shuts. Relishing the cool air-conditioned air on my sweat-covered skin, I take a deep breath, inhaling the smells of leather, cigarette smoke, and expensive cologne.
Lance pats my knee. “Where do you want to go? Back to your hotel?”
I shrug. “I don’t care. Anywhere.”
Leaning forward, he rattles off an address to the driver, and we set off. I feel him settling back in the seat and directing his gaze on me, undoubtedly to ask me questions I don’t want to answer. But I turn away, my back to him, silently staring out the window. I try to clear my thoughts, focusing on the lit, cobbled streets of the old town that make way for darker, quieter roads with shadowed buildings far and few between.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I know I could be in danger. I don’t really know this guy. Who knows what he will do to me? He could take me to some remote place and rape me—kill me.
Leaning my head against the window, I close my eyes. I don’t really care. Maybe that’s what I want. What I deserve. Ryder doesn’t care about me, much less love me. He has made that very clear.
Before long, the car stops, and I open my eyes to what looks like an abandoned warehouse, a wide aluminum roller door its frontage.
“We’re here.”
The car drives off as Lance double-knocks on the roller door. To our right, a side door opens. A man with a goatee appears and at catching sight of Lance, he leads us into a warehouse space full of wooden crates, at the back of which he opens a door.
Lance waves me in with an exaggerated hand gesture. “After you.”
I step through the doorway, and the first thing that hits me is the thick cloud of cigarette smoke. My eyes instantly water, and I cover my mouth with my hand as I break out into a coughing fit. I feel a hand on my back, nudging me to step further into the room. As the coughing subsides, I turn to Lance, who winks and tilts his head sideways. Blinking, I gaze into the smoke-filled area and discern about ten tables with people playing cards, a dealer running each game.
He breathes in my ear, “I thought you might like this place. No restrictions. And no security guards to get rid of you if you win too much.”
Intrigued, I stride forward and position myself alongside one of the green-felted tables. The six players are just as intense and stony-faced as in the casino, but there is a marked difference. At the end of each round, the losers fling their cards to the dealer forcefully, their fury almost tangible. If their dark and menacing eyes do not dispel any doubt that these men are dangerous, their tattoos will. The elaborate markings cover their arms and necks, depicting dragons and strange symbols—the signs of Chinese secret societies, or triads.
“Drink?”
Lance hands me a flask, and I take a big swig, enjoying the burning sensation of Scotch in my throat.
“Thanks.”
His hand on my back, he gestures around the room. “Care to play? Sic bo, poker, blackjack?”
A table catches my eye where piles and piles of large rectangular tokens surround its players. “What’s the bet size in this place?”
“Depends.” He points at the table. “That’s Texas Hold ‘Em poker, and they’re posting blinds of around ten grand US.”
I knit my brow. “Blinds?”
“Stakes they collect from the players before the game. Winner takes all.”
Fascinated, I watch them play. After a few rounds, I still don’t know all the rules of the game. All I can tell is that one player in particular seems to be raking it in. Sporting a buzz cut, he uses the fingers that hold a cigarette to push up his rimless glasses every so often. With his stony poker face, he adds chips after chips to his growing collection.
In the middle of a betting round, a guy in a sleeveless black T-shirt emerges from behind the dealer. He rounds the table and positions himself behind Buzz Cut. All of a sudden, he yanks him off his seat and yells something in a dialect that I don’t understand.
One arm curled around Buzz Cut’s neck in a choke hold, the black T-shirt yanks off his glasses, glances through them, and hurls them to the dealer. Screaming what sound like curses, he redirects his attention to Buzz Cut, whose eyes widen before a fist hits him square in the face. A crack resounds in the now-silent room, and blood trickles out of Buzz Cut’s bent nose. I avert my gaze as the black T-shirt drags him away. A brief murmuring around the tables flares up, and gameplay resumes.
Lance scoffs. “The dumbass. He must have a death wish.”
“What just happened?” I take the flask from his hand and take a swig.
“That stupid bastard was cheating with fake glasses. He marked the cards with invisible ink. Then he used infrared glasses to read them.”
“No way. What are they going to do to him?”
“He’ll be taught a lesson.” His face hardens. “It’s his own fault. Don’t w
orry about what happens to him.”
I return my gaze back to the table, where someone has already taken Buzz Cut’s place. But I can’t keep my focus on the game. I keep on thinking about how that dumb bastard dared to cheat a Chinese triad at one of their games. How could he have taken such a huge risk? Did he really not expect them to find out his glasses were fake?
A thought shoots through my head, causing my pulse to jump. What if—what if the video Ryder’s abductors showed me was fake, too? With image-editing software, photos can easily be altered, and the same would apply to videos. As it was taken in relative darkness, they could have manipulated the video somehow.
But if they did, I wonder why. Why do they want me to believe that Ryder was unfaithful to me?
I’d always assumed his abductors were after money. It wouldn’t surprise me if a triad is behind his kidnapping—Slick Hair’s tattoo certainly looks like the mark of organized crime. But if that were the case, wouldn’t they have let me continue gambling in the casino? If they had their eye on me, as Slick Hair claimed, they must have known I’d scrape the million together.
I shake my head. No, his abductors wanted me to stop playing. They showed me the video knowing I would be furious and give up on Ryder. They never wanted me to succeed in the first place.
A shudder runs down my spine as I realize there’s only one explanation: this is not about money. It is about revenge.
It all makes sense now. Ryder’s abduction, his betrayal to me, even his company’s computer crash—they’re all part of a grand plan to destroy him, completely and utterly, in all aspects of his life. I wonder what he has done for someone to despise him this much. He is the most generous, selfless, and big-hearted man I’ve ever known. Some doctored video won’t make me think of him any differently.
I stand up straight. I’ve made my decision.
If my theory is right—that he’s set up—I must help him. And even if it is not, I still have to give him the benefit of the doubt; that’s the least he deserves. Because regardless of how angry or hurt I felt after watching that dreaded video, I can’t deny my feelings for him. I love him, no matter what happens. And I’ll have to make sure he is all right.
But how the hell am I going to do that?
I could call the police, but they probably won’t help me—it has hardly been twenty-four hours since Ryder has gone missing. And I have nothing to go on. I don’t even have my phone any more; I foolishly left my purse in the casino.
I sigh. There is only one way.
Turning around, I tap the shoulder behind me.
“Lance, I need your help.”
Ryder
I’ve only been sitting on the bed for a few minutes when the door opens. Lifting my head, I knit my brow when Michael comes into view, in a white suit that does nothing to disguise his bulging frame.
He flashes me a wide grin. “I have news for you.”
I leap up, my pulse spiking with excitement. This is it. Elle has come up with the ransom, and I’m going to be set free.
“Sit down, Mr De Luca.”
Out of nowhere, Flat Face materializes, forcing me down on the bed with the finger of his hand that’s holding the knife. The sinister gleam in his eyes doesn’t bode well.
I glower at Michael. “What’s this about?”
“I have news about your girlfriend.” Still grinning, he takes a step in my direction. “I suppose you’d like to hear that she’s come up with the goods, so to speak.”
My chest tightens. “Well, has she?”
Smirking, he shakes his head. “It looks like you’ve had more faith in her than she deserves.” He takes another step toward me. “Frankly, I’m disappointed. I always thought she would be a little more—motivated. After all, you’re at my mercy. She knows what I can do to you. And yet, she refused to fulfill my little request.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Why should I lie? I have no reason to. Especially if she’d come through.”
I ball my fists. “What the hell did you make her do?”
“I asked for only one thing.” He raises his fat index finger. “A million dollars. In cash. That’s it.”
“You’re saying she couldn’t come up with it?” I shake my head. “That’s bullshit.”
“I’ll tell you what’s bullshit. The lies she’s been feeding you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m sure she’s told you how much she loves you. Well, this just proves it was a lie. When it came to the crunch, Mr De Luca, she didn’t even bother. When it proved to be too hard, she chose to walk away.”
“I don’t believe you. I know her better than anyone. She’d never do that.”
“You don’t know her as well as you think. It was only a million. It wasn’t too much too ask.”
I narrow my eyes. “That doesn’t make sense either. Why didn’t you ask for more?”
“I would have, had she come up with the one mil. Now I know she isn’t good for it any more, what’s the point?”
“I told you to keep her out of this. Tell me how much you want. You want a million? Fine. I’ll give it to you.”
Tossing back his head, Michael bursts out laughing. “You’re like a broken record. Thinking money solves all of your problems. But wouldn’t you like to know how much your girlfriend really cares about you?” He shakes his head. “Not much, I can tell you that.”
I ball my fists. How dare that asshole make assumptions about our relationship. I know Elle, she would have done anything—anything—to save me. “You didn’t give her enough time.”
“It was only one million. She had more than enough time.” He clicks his tongue. “No more excuses, Mr De Luca. You’ll just have to face it. She doesn’t love you as much as you thought.”
The bastard. If it weren’t for the knife gleaming in front of me, I would have bashed the daylights out of him.
“What do you care if she loves me or not? I’ll give you the goddamn money, and you let me go. End of story.”
“And then what? Have you thought about that? What would happen, I wonder, when your girlfriend sees your little video? You know, the one where you enjoyed our lovely Mei?”
A chill envelops my heart, and I squeeze my eyes shut. It would kill her to see that damn video. It would kill me if she does. I’ll have to do anything in my power to prevent that from happening.
“Don’t worry, Mr De Luca, we all know how hard it is to resist a taste of Mei’s sweet little body. She is sweet. Isn’t that right, brother?”
Flat Face nods his head, and his accompanying smirk develops into a cough.
The red-hot fury that enters my veins causes my hands to reach for his throat, intent on throttling him. But he anticipates my move, and in one smooth motion, he positions his knife’s blade against the side of my throat. My hands encircle his thick wrist.
I hiss, “Why don’t you do it now? Just kill me.”
Laughter erupts from behind me.
“Hey Mei, look what you’ve done to poor Mr De Luca.”
A glance to the side makes my blood run cold. Standing by Michael’s side is Meifen, who I hardly recognize with her perfectly styled hair, diamond jewelry, and expensive designer dress. But what’s most remarkable about her transformation is the look in her eyes. It’s one I recognize as I’ve encountered it too many times—greedy, conceited, unscrupulous. I’ve always prided myself on being a good judge of character. How could I have been wrong about her?
Michael slides his arm around her waist, his hand curling around her breast.
“Look at him, Mei. You’ve made him go crazy. Now he wants to die for you.” He gives her a little shove. “That would be such a waste. Be a sweetheart and tell him not to die.”
Meifen sways up to me, one hand on hip, the other reaching out to settle on my shoulder.
“Don’t die. We still need you.” Even her voice has taken on a different, sinister tone.
Shrugging her hand away, I avert my gaze. I
can’t look into her traitorous eyes. Bile rises up my throat. I was so stupid, so gullible.
“Who would have known my little Mei could be so ingenious? I loved it when she told you that story of her poor baby being taken away. It really pulls on your heartstrings.” Michael’s mocking words claw into the cavity of my chest.
“But whose baby was it?” I say under my breath.
“What did you say? You wonder about the baby?” He lets out a snigger. “I borrowed the cleaner’s. It couldn’t ever be her baby. Pfff, Mei here couldn’t even look after a pet fish.
But it was her idea to unlock your door. I wasn’t sure, but she convinced me that you’d come back. And you did. In your position, I would never have done something stupid like that. The next village is only a mile or so away. I would’ve made it to freedom.”
Sagging down on the bed, I drop my head. It feels like the whole world is crashing down on me. Unable to listen to any more, I cover my ears with my hands. Yet I can’t block out Michael’s voice. “Girl, looks like you’re worth the money I’ve spent on you. And I intend to make the most out of it. Now, go take that dress off and get ready for me in bed. On your hands and knees, just the way I like it.”
I hear a firm slap—no doubt on her behind. For an instant, I dread what he’s going to do with her, but my chest tightens when I remember her deceit.
As I feel Flat Face shift away from me, I lift my head and come eye to eye with Michael.
He says, “I’m just wondering, how much is your freedom worth to you?”
I shrug.
“How much? Would it be worth—all your wealth? Would you give it all up?”
“If it’s between my life and my money, of course I’d choose to live.”
“Interesting. Interesting indeed.” He scratches his chin.
I raise my eyebrows. “So that’s what you want? All my money?”
Ignoring my question, Michael turns toward the door.
“You can have it,” I say. “Every single cent.”
“Hmm, I’ll think about it.”
Burn for You Page 16
