Facade

by Lexy Timms

  I nodded my head as a smile crossed his face, and I felt a twinge of disappointment when he pulled back without kissing me.

  “Have you ever gambled before?” Derek asked as he threw some chips in.

  “A bit of poker during my military days, but nothing spectacular,” I said as I threw some in as well.

  “Were you any good?” he asked.

  “Eh, when I wasn’t distracted.”

  I tossed him a cheeky look, and he chanced a wink at me that sent shivers down my spine and burned a hole in my gut.

  We went a few rounds, and I ended up winning some of Derek’s money back. I won fifty thousand dollars, and he scored over two hundred thousand, and I smiled every time he outsmarted the cards. He was good. I would give him that. He had lady luck on his side tonight, and I felt myself relaxing as the night went on.

  Once we called it quits, we had racked up over five hundred thousand dollars in winnings.

  “How do you collect something like this? That’s a lot of money,” I said.

  “Follow me. I’ll show you how real men do it,” Derek said.

  He took my hand and led me from the table with our chips lying out on the table. We walked all the way toward the front of the casino where the manager stopped him, and the two of them began to talk. I was sizing up the manager and casing everyone that walked by us, clocking their bodies to see what they were packing and where. The security guards were stereotypical, with guns on their hips and knives at their ankles. There were a couple of unsavory characters that had a gun on their hip as well as tucked into the band of their pants at their back. A few people had pocket knives in their coat jackets and some of the women had mace in their purse.

  If Derek knew the types of things that were allowed into casinos if someone had enough money, he wouldn’t feel safe here.

  “Okay, I’m ready when you are,” Derek said.

  “So, where do we go from here to get your money?” I asked.

  “You were casing the casino again, weren’t you?”

  “What else should I have been doing?”

  “I have an arrangement with The Bellagio. Any earnings I make at their tables are donated to the state’s homeless shelters. Nevada has one of the highest homeless statistics in the nation. I’d like to think my money helps put a dent in those numbers.”

  I was stunned, absolutely stunned at the man who was holding my hand. As he led me out of the casino and back to our limo, I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

  He had just willingly donated half a million dollars to fight the battle of homelessness in a state he didn’t even live in.

  “What?” Derek asked.

  “Half a million dollars,” I said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Just ... like that. To the homeless. In a state you don’t reside in.”

  “What else was I gonna do with it?” he asked.

  “Recoup the money you spent gambling? Didn’t we blow through, like—”

  “Two million dollars? Sure. But I don’t need it. I’m already rich. What’s another five hundred grand gonna do for me?”

  The limo pulled away from the casino as Derek’s phone began to ring. I sat there, stunned as he pulled his phone from his coat. There were sides to Derek that were astounding, and this was one of them. He was nothing like some of the rich men I’d guarded before. He wasn’t nearly as pompous and long-winded and—

  “What?” Derek asked.

  His tone of voice ripped me back into reality as I poised, ready to fight.

  “Who is that?” I asked.

  He held up his hand to silence me as his face flushed with ... worry?

  “Emma, Emma, Emma. Slow down. Call Doctor Farlow and tell him what’s going on. Let him know there’s a very large donation to his hospital in it for him if he gets his ass into that hospital. Sam and I are gonna get on the jet tonight and get back into town. Okay?”

  Something had happened. Something very bad had just happened.

  “Derek, what’s going on?” I asked as he hung up his phone.

  I watched the red drain from his cheeks as his eyes grew glassy with fear.

  “Derek, I’ll call Emma if I have to. What the hell just happened?” I asked.

  “Driver, take us straight back to the hotel,” he said. “And wait for us. You’ll be taking us to the airport after this.”

  “Yes, sir,” the driver said.

  “Derek!”

  He whipped his head over to me as I reached for his hand. It was the only thing I could think to do to get his attention, and it worked. He curled his fingers around me as the limo turned around, carrying us at high speeds back to our hotel rooms.

  “It’s Jacob,” Derek said. “He’s been attacked.”

  Chapter 17

  Derek

  I CALLED THE PILOT of my jet as we gathered our things and told him to be ready to fly out immediately. Sam and I booked it for the jet, not bothering with who saw us as we threw our stuff into the overhead compartments. I opened a bottle of wine and sat with the bottle between my fingers, trying to distract myself in any way possible. Jacob was unconscious and in the hospital, and I knew it was because of me.

  Because of this fucking threat we couldn’t neutralize.

  “The money never really matters unless you’re keeping score,” I said as I took a sip of wine. “In my world, that’s all money is.”

  “That why you gave it away at the casino?” Sam asked.

  “Yep. Might as well go to people who can actually use it. You know, people think I’m greedy. Because I take on more companies and take larger percentages of their businesses to line my holding company’s pockets with money. But it’s all about keeping score. It has nothing to do with greed. I couldn’t care less about money.”

  “So if you lost it all tomorrow, you’d be okay?”

  “I would. It’s never been about money. I came from money. I lived in that lifestyle. I didn’t crave it in any way, and if I lost everything, I have a few trust accounts I could live comfortably off of for the rest of my life. The journey was never about money. It was about becoming something greater than my father.”

  “That’s your way of keeping score,” she said.

  “Yep. Succeeding not only made me proud, it made him proud. And there was nothing I wanted more. My father built a business he expected me to take over, and in a way, I did. When his business started to go under, it was the first one I purchased. I revamped it, reconstructed it, updated it, and brought it into this century. My father got to retire from that company and everyone got to keep their job.”

  “Hell of a story,” she said as I chugged from the wine bottle.

  “It’s never about money. It’s always about keeping score, and keeping score doesn’t always mean being better than your competitor. Sometimes, it’s about keeping score with yourself. Setting a personal bar just to see if you can reach it. That’s what I do. I keep score with myself. With my soul. With my wants and desires.”

  “Well, my way of keeping score is my keeping things at zero,” she said.

  “That doesn’t make sense. Zero loses. Always. That’s why people hate the number zero.”

  “If you look at it that way, sure. But in my world, zero is good. Zero losses. Zero compromises. Zero unfulfilled missions. In my world, numbers mean deaths. Casualties. It means my inability to get there soon enough. During hostage rescue missions in the military and in the private sector, I’ve been a part of not getting there in time. Of seeing the devastation the number one can cause. But now that I’m a privately contracted bodyguard, I have control over that number. I’ve never lost a client. The best score for me and my world is zero.”

  I watched Sam as I threw back the bottle of wine again. Guilt was pooling in my chest, and I was trying to drown it out. Jacob was in the hospital because of me. Because I ignored this threat for far too long. The wine bottle came down and hit an abrupt stop before it was ripped from my weakening fingers.

  Shit. What if Jacob died
because of me?

  “He’s not going to die,” Sam said. “We don’t know the extent of the damage yet.”

  “He’s in that hospital bed because of me,” I said.

  “No, he’s not. He’s there because of his attacker.”

  “And that attacker is trying to get to me through Jacob. Fuck, Sam. All those threats that have been directed at me. All the times I shrugged it off. If I had given in to these demands, Jacob would be okay. You know he would be.”

  “But you wouldn’t be,” she said. “This psycho-harasser is responsible for this. Not you. And with this attack on Jacob, I’m certain the threat is local.”

  “You fucking think so?” I asked. “It took Jacob being beaten unconscious for you to come to that conclusion?”

  “Is that what happened?” she asked. “Was he beaten?”

  “In the fucking parking garage.”

  “Okay, that’s unusual. Who would have that kind of easy access to the private parking garage of your company?”

  “Anyone who fucking works at ...”

  The cogs started to turn as I panned my gaze over to Sam. Her eyes were piercing, and I could tell she was thinking the same thing.

  “It’s someone at the fucking company.”

  “It reinforces that idea, yes,” Sam said.

  “Holy shit. It’s someone at the company,” I said.

  “Which is why I wanted to compile a suspect list.”

  “But this erases Emma, right? She’s a tiny girl. There’s no way she could overpower someone like Jacob enough to beat him—”

  I couldn’t say it. It made me sick to say it.

  “It depends on how Jacob was knocked unconscious. I’ve fought many men twice and even three times my size and still won,” she said.

  “But you’re different. You’ve trained for that kind of stuff. Emma’s just Emma.”

  “I’ve seen small women do all sorts of vicious and cruel things. One good sneak-up and a whack with a crowbar and any man goes down. Her being smaller means she’s quiet when she walks. I won’t know until we see Jacob and until I can discern how he was attacked and what all happened to take him down.”

  “It’s not Emma. It can’t be Emma,” I said.

  “Don’t let a pretty face distract you, Mr. Steele. Women can be strong and dangerous, especially when adrenaline is pumping. Those videos of women lifting cars off their kids. That happens. That’s what the human body is capable of when under the influence of adrenaline. And striking a man in a dark parking garage would fuel a great deal of adrenaline through anyone’s body.”

  I looked over at Sam, and her pretty face struck me. The implications of what she was saying made me wary of her presence. She was a pretty face. She was a beautiful face. The best of faces, according to my most recent exploration of her. That meant she was capable of things like this, capable of striking a man down and knocking him unconscious.

  Capable of killing someone at a moment’s notice.

  I wonder how many people Sam had killed in the course of her career.

  I watched her face flush as guilt dripped over her eyes. She turned around and faced forward, sinking deeply into her seat. I saw her in a different light now, a light that painted her with a darkness I didn’t want to attach to her. I wanted to ask, but I knew better. Even as the wine coursed through my veins and relaxed my tongue, I knew better than to ask that question of her.

  To ask her for an answer she was so obviously embarrassed and ashamed of.

  “All I know with what I know right now is that Emma isn’t off the hook,” Sam said. “We can figure out more once we see and talk to Jacob.”

  “If he wakes up,” I said.

  “And he will. Plus, with the cameras that were supposed to be installed, I’ll have a lot of surveillance footage to go over. You have cameras in the parking garage, right?”

  “We do, yes,” I said.

  “Then don’t worry. I’m going to figure out who attacked Jacob.”

  Chapter 18

  Sam

  WE LANDED EARLY THAT morning and went straight to the hospital. Jacob was still unconscious and in the process of being stitched up when we got to the hotel. Derek was talking to the doctor, and I was trying to give him his space, but I needed to know what they were talking about. I needed to know all the information he was getting.

  But I was trying to give my client his space to grieve.

  I walked up beside Derek and put my hand on the small of his back. I wasn’t sure if I needed to be acting like a personal assistant or a girlfriend, so I opted for a bit of both. Derek looked over at me and scanned me quickly, and the doctor promptly stopped talking.

  “How is he, Mr. Steele?” I asked.

  He eyed me carefully before he nodded toward the doctor.

  “From what we can tell, Miss ...?”

  “Williams,” I said.

  “Miss Williams,” the doctor said. “From what we can tell, Mr. Carl was bashed over the back of the head repeatedly. He’s currently being cleaned and stitched up, and if I had to guess, I would say he needs around forty stitches.”

  “Where on his head was he hit?” I asked. “He won’t be concussed, will he?”

  “We still have to run some tests, but him being found unconscious doesn't bode well. His glasses were broken in the attack, so he’ll need another pair before we can release him. We’ll have to check his vision with and without his glasses before we can sign for his release.”

  “I’ll get you another pair,” Derek said. “What else do you know?”

  “That’s all we have on his condition for now,” the doctor said. “We’ll come get you when he’s ready to have visitors.”

  I watched the doctor walk away as my hand slid from Derek’s back.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said.

  “Not likely.”

  “You’re thinking he was bashed from behind, which still incriminates Emma. But you don’t know that. Not yet.”

  “I was actually thinking about where on Jacob’s head he was hit,” I said. “Depending on where and how hard, he could have difficulties communicating with us once he wakes up. That puts us at a great disadvantage.”

  “Nice to know you’re worried about the man’s health.”

  “That’s your job. He’s your friend. Right now, my job is to gather as much intel on this as I can so I can figure out who attacked Mr. Carl,” I said.

  “Then go do whatever the hell it is you do,” he said.

  He was angry, and I got it. He felt responsible, and now he couldn’t even see his friend. He had no one to take his anger out on since we had no idea who attacked him, and that probably made him feel like his world was closing in on him.

  But all we could do was wait.

  I sat by his side through the majority of the afternoon. People kept popping in to check on him, but no one stayed for any particular amount of time. Emma came and went, asking for updates and being her usual frantic self. She kept shooting me looks, and I kept ignoring them, and Derek kept staring off into space.

  Getting inside his own head.

  “Mr. Steele?” the doctor asked.

  “Yes,” he said as he stood up. “Is it Jacob?”

  “Your friend’s awake. We’re running some more thorough tests later, but for now, he seems coherent and able to talk. The police are interested in talking to him about what happened,” the doctor said.

  “Tell the officers that won’t be necessary. I have my own private security team already investigating things,” he said.

  “I figured as much. I’ll usher them out the long way, so you don’t have to be bothered with anything.”

  “Thank you, Doctor Farlow. I appreciate it.”

  I followed Derek back to Jacob’s room and then gave him some space. I wanted Jacob to wake up a bit before I started grilling him with questions. John was there, standing in the corner with his hands crossed in front of his body. I looked up at him, and I watched him sigh as he shook hi
s head lightly.

  Just as I suspected. John hadn’t been with Jacob when the attack occurred.

  I watched the two of them talk, and I studied Jacob’s movements. Some of them were a little choppy, but he didn’t seem to have a concussion. He was focusing on Derek’s face well, and he wasn’t stuttering over his words. It didn’t look like Derek was struggling to understand him, and Jacob didn’t seem to be nauseous or anything like that. It was a good sign, despite the situation Jacob was in. Being bashed over the head and needing those kinds of stitches usually came hand-in-hand with a concussion.

  It told me a lot about what he was struck with and who might have struck him.

  I walked into the room and sat down on the other side of Jacob. He eyed me carefully as I crossed my legs, switching quickly into girlfriend mode. It was getting tough to keep up with who Derek was feeding what lie, but I went with it as Jacob grinned over at me.

  “Such a pretty face for someone so bashed up,” Jacob said.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  “Sorry I spoiled the weekend,” he said.

  “You didn’t spoil anything,” Derek said. “But I need you to talk me through what happened. In the parking garage.”

  “Oh, that isn’t conversation to have in front of such a beautiful woman,” Jacob said. “Let’s talk about something else.”

  “I was actually hoping you would talk about it,” I said with a soft smile. “Please excuse the wrinkled outfit. I was worried about you the whole flight back and didn’t have another change of clothes.”

  “Nonsense. You look spectacular,” Jacob said.

  I could feel Derek’s eyes on me as John grinned in the corner. I softened my features even more to try and get Jacob talking while I was in the room. Derek was perched on the edge of his bed, and my eyes were studying Jacob’s body. The stitches were on the back of his head, which meant whoever attacked him had to have snuck up behind him.

  Shit.

  “I don’t remember much,” Jacob said. “I heard someone running up behind me, and I went to turn to see who it was. Then, there was a searing pain in the back of my head.”