Snake Eyes

by Melissa Pearl

  “The trust fund is from her deceased parents,” I tried to explain.

  She responded with a scoffing laugh. “Well gosh, he really has a lot of liars in his life, doesn’t he? Shayna Watson’s parents are alive and well.”

  I shot her a dark glare, about to tell her she was wrong, but I couldn’t, because she wasn’t lying.

  She countered my death rays with a sticky sweet smile and kept talking. “What we know for sure now is that Eric’s father is very good at covering his tracks. But where there’s a will, there’s a way, am I right?”

  My glare grew a little darker.

  “So we dug a little deeper and finally found out what this guy had really been up to. Luckily for us he screwed up big-time. Managed to con the wife of one of the meanest men in Vegas—Lucian Marchant.”

  The blood froze in my veins.

  Marchant?

  Was that the guy Gramps told me about on the beach?

  “So, anyway, Marchant got his hands on Declan and beat him to a pulp, left him in the desert. Not a great way to go.”

  She pulled a face and my insides curdled. All this time, Clayton Shore had thought his son was in hiding, but he’d actually been caught and killed.

  “Marchant got away with it, of course. With his kind of power, he gets away with a lot. Missing bodies, missing bones...no trace of evidence whatsoever. It helped that no missing person’s report was ever filed for Declan Shore.” Kaplan’s eyes narrowed as she studied me. I kept my gaze steady. Like hell I was giving away my conversation with Clayton.

  “I’m surprised you don’t want to go after him,” I muttered.

  “One bad guy at time, Caitlyn. Don’t worry, he’s on our radar.”

  I grimaced, squirming in my chair. “Why are you showing me this?”

  Kaplan leaned back in her chair, tapping her thumbs together. “I want to paint a picture for you.”

  I swallowed; dread restricting my airways.

  “Marchant hates to lose, so can you imagine his humiliation at knowing that his wife had an affair with a conman and lost him close to half a million dollars of his money.”

  “What happened to her?” I whispered.

  “She committed suicide. At least, that’s what the police reports say.” Kaplan shrugged. “500k is probably peanuts to a man like that, but it’s the losing, the disgrace against his good name, that kills him.”

  My heartbeat was now thrumming in my brain, making it hard to hear.

  “So just think what would happen if I mailed him this file and he found out that Antonio Costa was actually Declan Shore, and that he had a son living less than 300 miles away. For a guy like Lucian Marchant, finding and torturing the offspring of a man who shamed him would be well worth the time and effort.”

  The air in my lungs evaporated. I gripped the wooden arms of my chair and threw a desperate glance at Rhodes. He looked to the floor and shook his head.

  I turned back to Kaplan and shouted, “You can’t do that!”

  “I think the U.S. Postal Service would disagree with you.”

  “You...you bitch!” I lunged out of my seat and went for Kaplan. I wanted to scratch her eyes out.

  Rhodes caught me before I could, grabbing my arms and holding me back. I shook him off me and spun to face him, clutching his jacket. “Please, you can’t let her do this.”

  “I won’t have to if you do what you’re told!” Kaplan snapped. “If you love your boyfriend then break his heart...at least you’ll be keeping him alive.”

  Rhodes calmly loosened my grip and smoothed down his jacket, nudging me away from him.

  I pointed at Kaplan, my lips wobbling as I fought for control. “You know, you’re a really shitty FBI agent.”

  “Then why have I never lost a case?” Kaplan snatched an A4 envelope off the desk and slid the file inside. “It may look like I play dirty, but I do what it takes to win. This little operation is going to save multiple families from complete destruction, and you’re going to help me do it. Eric’s life is safe...as long as you do what you’re supposed to.”

  I slumped onto the perfectly made bed, wanting to dissolve into a puddle of tears, but I couldn’t. My eyes burned and my head screamed, but all I was capable of was a slow blink.

  “From now on, I want you to wear a permanent wire. We’re getting to crunch time, and I need to know exactly what you’re up to. Go with Rhodes; he’ll take you next door and make sure you’re all suited up. The tech guys will show you how everything works.” She gave me a tight smile. “Hey, look on the bright side: at least you won’t have to call me every night now.”

  My body was too numb to form any kind of defense. Rhodes gently put his hand under my arm and helped me stand, leading me from the room and into what would be the beginning of an even bigger nightmare.

  26

  Eric

  Pulling out the loaf of bread, I sat it next to the peanut butter and gazed out through the kitchen window. It was dark out and I still hadn’t heard back from Caity. After the awesome weekend we’d had together, I’d thought...

  I sighed.

  Okay, so the weekend hadn’t been spectacular. Yes, it’d had its beautiful moments, but it’d also been filled with imperfections, like the little spat over my dad during poker and then our final conversation on the drive home.

  Caity knew what I was saying. Quella was a drain and she couldn’t deny that, but she refused to back down. She was so incredibly stubborn sometimes!

  I frowned, untwisting the tie on the bread and pulling out two thick slices of wholemeal. Not the world’s most nutritious dinner, but I couldn’t be bothered to cook.

  It was Tuesday night. Technically, I should be at a little Mexican restaurant ordering two of my favorite tacos, but what was the point of going if Caity wasn’t even going to be there? And why the hell had she not returned my text OR answered my call? Her phone was on because it rang what felt like a hundred times before going to her voice mail.

  Unscrewing the peanut butter jar, I threw the lid on the counter and watched it skid to the edge then drop to the floor.

  I hadn’t bothered leaving a message. She’d see the caller ID, she’d read my text.

  What is going on with you? Why are you not replying to me? It’s Taco Tuesday and you weren’t there when I came to pick you up! Since when have you ever ditched a date? Talk to me! This is driving me insane!!

  Slapping a knife full of peanut butter onto my bread, I slathered it around then slammed the other piece on top, leaving finger indentations behind.

  “Dude, what did that sandwich ever do to you?” Mr. Smiley ambled into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.

  “Shut up, man,” I mumbled at Scott, collecting the lid and screwing it back on.

  “You okay?” Scott pulled out the milk and poured himself a glass, his permanent smile dulled just a little.

  “Yeah.” I scrubbed a hand over my face, then shook my head. “It’s Caity.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged, snatching a plate out of the cupboard and throwing my sandwich onto it. “She won’t call me back, she won’t text me, and when I swung past her dorm this evening, she wasn’t there. I was going to sit in the car and wait for her, but then felt like a total stalker so decided to come home.”

  “Yeah, I thought it was weird you were here. Taco Tuesday, right?”

  I nodded, slumping into my chair and biting off a hunk of bread. It tasted like ash, but I chewed it anyway.

  Scott poured me a glass of milk and set it down by my plate.

  “Got anything stronger?” My eyebrow arched.

  He chuckled. “Come on, man. It’s not that bad, is it?”

  I leaned forward in my chair, pushing my plate aside. “It’s weird. This is so un-Caity. I mean, yes, she forgets to charge her phone and she turns it off every now and then, but she never ignores me. I don’t know what’s going on.”

  Scott licked the residue milk from his top lip. “Do you think
it has anything to do with her new roommate?”

  I threw my head back with a groan. “Probably. She’s bending over backwards for this girl, and I don’t think Quella even notices or appreciates it. I hate that she’s putting her before us.”

  “You know what Caity’s like, though. She’ll do anything for anyone.”

  “I know.” I sighed. “But she’s always been really good at putting us first. I didn’t think she’d ever do anything to compromise our relationship.”

  Scott chuckled. “She doesn’t call you for two days and the relationship is compromised? Dude, that’s some pressure.”

  “I’m not that pathetic.” I rubbed my eyebrow and ran a hand through my hair. “I’m just used to talking to her most days... and she’s been different lately. Like she’s trying to be happy around me or...I don’t know.”

  “Do you think she’s hiding something from you?”

  My heart jerked in an unsteady rhythm. “She always promised me she wouldn’t.”

  “Well, then you gotta give her the benefit of the doubt. Something else must be going on.”

  “I can’t lose her, Scott.”

  He placed his empty glass on the table. “Sometimes you can’t control those kinds of things.”

  I gave him a sharp look. “Don’t you think I know that?”

  “I’m not trying to piss you off or anything, I’m just saying...” He raised his hands as two white flags.

  “Well, don’t.” My chair scraped on the floor as I stood tall and took my plate to the trash can, throwing out my uneaten sandwich.

  “Eric.”

  “What?”

  “Maybe it’s a combo effect; you know, pressure from all sides.”

  I paused. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, she’s trying to help Quella, which she knows you don’t like, but even so, she’s putting on the right face for her and then when she’s around you, trying to keep you happy, and then Piper’s wedding mania has started and that has a pressure all of its own.” He shook his head with a grin. “Aside from that, exams are looming and then you’ve got Thanksgiving just around the corner and I don’t care how awesome anyone’s family is, that celebration comes with its own special kind of stress.”

  Spinning around, I leaned against the counter and folded my arms. “So, what do you think I should do?”

  “Well, maybe instead of trying to give her advice, like pulling away from Quella, why don’t you ask her what she needs to get through this?”

  I frowned at him.

  He raised his hands. “It’s only an idea, man. I’m just trying to help you out.”

  “No, it’s good. I like it. Rather than saying ‘you should be doing this’, I can be like ‘what do you need from me’?”

  “Yeah.” Scott nodded. “I can’t guarantee it’s going to work or anything, but I do know that I’m the kind of person who responds better to that sort of thing. When I feel like I’m being bossed around, I kind of dig my heels in and do the quiet stubborn thing.”

  My lips twitched with a smile. “Stubborn,” I muttered, thinking of Caity.

  “Good luck, man.” He walked out of the kitchen with an impish grin.

  Grabbing my phone, I gazed at the screen and sent my girl another text.

  Hey, babe. I don’t know what’s going on tonight, but whatever it is, I’m here if you need me. Your Hercules forever xx

  27

  Caitlyn

  I read Eric’s text and blinked, tears making my vision blurry. This sucked. This sucked!

  Kaplan wanted us broken up by the end of the week, so I could score myself a last-minute invite to Quella’s. So far, my grand plan had been to completely ignore him, do the lame ass don’t call and we’ll just naturally end it thing. It was so cowardly, but I didn’t know if I could do it.

  How did I get words out of my mouth that I one hundred percent did not mean?

  How?

  How was I supposed to look at Eric’s beautiful face and tell him I didn’t want to be with him anymore?

  “Just think what would happen if I mailed him this file and he found out that Antonio Costa was actually Declan Shore, and that he had a son living less than 300 miles away. For a guy like Lucian Marchant, finding and torturing the offspring of a man who humiliated him would be well worth the time and effort.”

  That was how.

  The idea of Eric being found, stolen, tortured? I doubled over, fighting for air.

  I had to do this and just pray that once it was over, he’d hear me out and take me back.

  Sniffing at my phone, I quickly texted back.

  Sorry. Got delayed. It’s been a shitty night. Can’t talk about it yet. Can you meet me tomorrow after class?

  Less than a minute later, I got my reply.

  Of course. Whatever you need.

  I sent back the details of when and where. It took me way too long to think of a spot. I didn’t want anywhere to be tainted by this horrible thing—not our willow tree, not our Mexican restaurant, definitely not the beach. In the end, I settled for outside Powell Library. It was close to his final class for the day and we could walk and talk. It’d be easier to run away from him in tears, which I could guarantee would happen.

  Hating Kaplan with a new kind of passion, I sent my text and threw my phone onto the bed.

  “Okay, I’ve just texted Eric. I’m doing it tomorrow night,” I mumbled into the permanent wire attached to my bra.

  “Good job,” Rhodes said quietly. “Remember you’re doing this to save his life. Just keep that in your head.”

  I let out a heavy sigh as Quella walked in. Straightening up, I pasted on a smile.

  She paused, her head tipping to the side as she looked right through it.

  “I feel like dancing.”

  I glanced at my watch. “It’s nearly nine o’clock. I’m too tired.”

  “No, you are sad.” She grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the door. “I do not know why, but I do know that dancing will make it better.”

  I wanted to say no and curl into a ball on my bed.

  “Don’t forget your persona, Caitlyn,” Rhodes whispered into my ear. I hated that he was there all the time...and so often right. I had to get this damn thing over with, and dancing with Quella would help.

  Forcing another smile, I shrugged. “Okay, you win. Take me dancing.”

  She let out a squeal and yanked me out the door.

  I got drunk.

  I’d never done that before. Ever.

  I usually hated the taste of alcohol, but I threw that stuff down my throat like my life depended on it.

  My Martha Woodgrove ID was put to good use, that was for sure.

  Shots.

  Tequila.

  Deadly.

  Stumbling out of the club, I checked to make sure Quella was following me. She bumped her way around the large man by the door and giggled when he spilled his beer. He gave her an evil glare. My vision blurred as his mask disintegrated, my eyes bulging wide.

  He wasn’t really mad with her; he was too busy checking her out.

  I sniffed and tottered toward her, yanking her arm and pulling her out of the bar.

  “Let’s go,” I croaked.

  She giggled again, tumbling into me until we both ended up on the grass, our feet flying into the air before we curled on our sides with more laughter. I had to blink really hard to see Quella clearly. The alcohol was doing something freaky to my sight; I couldn’t figure it out, but masks weren’t falling away tonight...they were evaporating. It was like watching a fire suck them into nothing. The alcohol burned through the layers rapidly. I had no control.

  “Awwww.” I brushed Quella’s face. “You miss your mom. I’m sorry.”

  My words felt thick and heavy, oozing out of my mouth like viscous glue. I smacked my lips together and winced, my head starting to ache as I looked at Quella’s wide, soulful gaze.

  “How do you know about my mother? I never talk about her.” She frowned, propping h
erself onto one elbow.

  “I don’t...” I licked the edge of my mouth. “Your mom.... People leave, but they don’t mean to hurt you. Sometimes they do it to protect you.”

  “She did not want to protect me,” Quella snapped. “She left because she did not love me enough to stay.”

  Quella’s heated anger was harsh and uncompromising. I turned away from it and closed my eyes, my head spinning circles. The sky was seriously falling. I dug the heel of my hand into my eye socket and was struck with an overwhelming urge to cry.

  “That’s not always true,” I wailed, my stomach jerking with sobs. “He’s never gonna forgive me,” I hiccupped. “I hate her for making me do this. I hate her.”

  “Who do you hate? What are you talking about?”

  I never had a chance to answer. A strong hand clamped around my arm and hauled me to my feet.

  “That’s enough,” he whispered.

  My head flopped against his shoulder and I breathed in his scent. It had become familiar somehow, even though I’d only been close enough to smell him a couple of times.

  “Let her go!” Quella stood on wobbly legs and tried to pull me back. “Who are you?”

  “Security, miss. It’s time you girls head home.”