by Rachel Woods
The pressure on Sione’s throat relaxed. He yanked Ben’s hand from his neck and shoved his knee into Ben’s chest, sending Ben stumbling back into a wall. Pushing himself to his feet, Sione rushed at Ben. A quick, swift kick in the gut and then another to the sternum put Ben down.
Breathing hard, Ben stayed on the ground. Sione figured the bastard was waiting for him to make some dumb move, something designed to get Sione on his knees and then back on the floor, where Ben would have the upper hand.
“Get the fuck up,” Sione demanded, scanning the bedroom for a weapon. When in doubt, allow a blunt object to help you out, Richard would say. Focused on the desk, his eyes were drawn to the item lying on the polished dark wood, an item that seemed familiar, sparking a memory.
An arm snaked around his throat, pressing against his windpipe.
Options to break the hold sped through his mind, too quick for him to remember how to execute them. Think, don’t panic. Remember what Richard had taught him. Ignore the slamming heart and racing pulse. Forget about Ben, grunting and growling in his ear, whispering promises to kill him.
“Maybe I’ll shoot you between the eyes, old friend,” Ben panted as they struggled. “And then cut off your hand and send it to your father!”
Sione slammed his elbow into Ben’s gut and then stomped on his foot. Ben grunted but maintained his hold. Still trapped in Ben’s headlock, Sione struggled to plant his feet, confused as he wrestled to free himself. Ben dragged Sione out of the bedroom and into the hallway.
Sione reached his arm back and grabbed Ben’s shirt collar. Forcing his chin into the crook of Ben’s arm, Sione bent forward at the waist and then pulled Ben over his shoulder, slamming him to the ground.
Ben scrambled to his feet and came at him with fists flying. Countering Ben’s punches, Sione crashed his fist into the center of Ben’s chest, trying to knock the breath out of Ben’s lungs. He smashed his fist into Ben’s face and then landed two quick blows to his temple and ear.
Ben punched Sione in the ribs and then followed with a knife-hand strike to the neck. The blow stunned Sione for a few seconds, long enough for Ben to grab him by the shoulders and head-butt him. Sione wobbled and ducked, avoiding Ben’s wild swing. Ben rushed at Sione, and they wrestled like uncoordinated animals, grunting and panting as they grappled down the short, narrow hallways. Banging into walls and turning in circles, they abandoned the style and form of martial arts. Reduced to dirty street fighting, they punched and kicked and shoved.
On the landing, Sione pushed Ben away and then kicked him in the chest. Arms flailing, Ben lost his footing. Falling backward down the stairs, Ben tumbled head over tail and landed at the bottom in the foyer, sprawled on his side.
Sione ran down the steps and then took a knee next to Ben, checking for a pulse. Seconds later, he felt the vein jump beneath his fingers. Ben was unconscious but still breathing. It would be easy to kill him. The perfect opportunity to take Ben out for once and for all, for good—forever.
And yet, Sione found himself glancing back up toward the stairs, thinking about what he’d seen on the desk. As though compelled by some gravitational force, Sione stood and then headed back up the steps. At the top of the stairs, he looked down. Ben hadn’t moved. Quickly, Sione turned and strode down the hall and into the bedroom.
His steps slow and measured, he approached the desk, memories returning as Moana’s voice floated into his head…
Richard came to visit me in prison. He wanted me to steal an envelope for him. It belonged to Ben. Really fancy, made of lambskin with a red wax stamp on the back to seal it.
At the desk, he grabbed the envelope. Turning it over, he stared at the red wax stamp.
13
Houston, Texas
The Third Ward
“How did you get this envelope?” Sione demanded, seconds after splashing a glass of ice water in Ben Chang’s face.
Ben’s eyelids fluttered several times, and then his eyes opened. Pupils unfocused, he stared at Sione as though he was confused and disoriented, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
“Wake up!” Sione slapped Ben.
Head snapping back, Ben gasped and then coughed, and Sione could tell the bastard was slowly becoming aware of his situation—he was in the kitchen, tied to a chair, his hands bound behind him at the wrist and his ankles tied to the chair legs.
“You tied me up?” Ben coughed and then gave Sione that vicious smile. “You son of a bitch.”
Sione backhanded him across the face, just hard enough to wake him all the way up. “How did you get that envelope out of my casita?”
“What envelope?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. This envelope,” Sione said, pulling it from the back pocket of his jeans and waving it in front of Ben. “How did you get it?”
Ben laughed. “Get these ropes off me and maybe we’ll talk.”
“You tell me how you got this envelope,” Sione said, “or, I swear, I will burn it.”
Glaring at him, Ben said, “You burn my envelope and I’ll cut your fucking head off.”
“Wow, you’ll cut my head off,” Sione said, his tone casual, though Ben’s vehement threat infuriated him. “This envelope must be very important to you.”
A year and a half ago, Sione had first learned about the envelope from his cousin Peter. In a convoluted scheme Sione still had problems understanding, Peter had been hired to steal the envelope from Ben Chang’s house in Jamaica. Although, according to Peter, technically, he hadn’t broken into Ben’s place because he’d had a key. Moana had given Peter the key after persuading him to steal Ben’s envelope.
Sione took a breath, trying to combat the memories of his ex-fiancée and what had eventually happened to her. Though, he wasn’t quite sure what had happened. Sione still didn’t know if he had killed Moana or not. He knew Moana had directed Peter to hide Ben’s envelope in his casita.
“You told Kelsey Thomas that this envelope was in my casita, and you sent her to search for it.”
“Kelsey Thomas didn’t find it, unfortunately,” Ben said. “Kelsey Thomas was supposed to be a direct hit. But that’s the problem when you drop bombs, sometimes, you miss your target. So, I was forced to find a girl to replace Kelsey.”
“What girl to replace Kelsey?” Sione felt his heart start to kick again.
“After Kelsey Thomas messed up, I decided on a different approach,” Ben said. “A sneak attack. I decided to send another girl behind enemy lines to work undercover, like a Trojan horse.”
“A Trojan horse?”
“A woman who could get under your skin and, if necessary, into your bed,” Ben said. “A woman so enticing you could not help but be enchanted by her false charm, and while you were foolishly falling in love with this treacherous bitch, she would be busy looking for my envelope.”
“Who did you send to replace Kelsey?” Sione demanded.
“A beautiful woman I had the misfortune to meet,” Ben said. “She didn’t do right by me.”
“What does that mean?” Sione asked.
“She was deceitful and treacherous,” Ben said. “And that is how I knew she was the perfect woman. I knew this woman would be able to accomplish what Kelsey Thomas could not. I knew this woman would be able to get close to you.”
“Who was this woman?”
“She was my Trojan horse,” Ben said. “I sent her to make a fool of you. There were specific steps I told this treacherous woman to take.”
“Steps?” Sione echoed, feeling something plummet to the pit of his gut.
“This treacherous woman was supposed to get close to you,” Ben said. “And then she was supposed to get you to have dinner with her, and then while you’re at dinner, she was going to pour you some wine, and then when you were not looking, she would add a little something to it.”
“A little something like what?”
Smiling, Ben said, “She was supposed to slip you a mickey.”
> Blood roared in Sione’s head. “She was going to drug me?”
“She was going to use the date-rape drug,” Ben said. “GHB.”
“And then what?” Sione managed to ask, his voice hoarse, strange thoughts invading his head, crazy thoughts, ideas that couldn’t possibly be true. Ridiculous bullshit about who the Trojan horse had been, the treacherous woman sent to get close to him and drug him.
“Once you were knocked out,” Ben said, “she would have all the time she needed to look around your casita.”
“And she would be looking for that damn envelope…” Sione found it difficult to breathe, hard to fathom what Ben was saying and what it meant.
As Ben’s dark eyes focused and became clearer, Sione felt a sort of bitter self-recrimination, a burning regret churning in his gut. He should have killed Ben already, but he was beginning to think he’d missed his chance. Again, he’d let the opportunity slip through his fingers, and for what? He’d squandered the chance so he could find out about that damn envelope because he wanted to know the truth, had to know why the hell that envelope was so damn important. If he killed Ben now, what would it matter? Ben might be dead, but his lies would live forever.
“I don’t have time for your fucking games,” Sione said. “Who was the Trojan horse?”
“I suspect you already know the answer, but maybe you want me to confirm your suspicions,” Ben said. “Or, more likely, you want your suspicions disputed because you don’t want what you are secretly thinking to be true?”
“What I want is the truth!”
Ben laughed. “Why? Do you really think the truth will make you free? Do you think you can handle it? The truth will destroy you, but I suspect you know that as well, whether you want to admit it or not.”
“Tell me who gave you this envelope, or so help me God—”
“I got it from that treacherous bitch I sent to Belize to find it,” Ben said. “I got it from Spencer.”
“You’re lying,” Sione said.
“I’m not the one telling lies,” Ben said. “You’re the liar.”
Sione glared at him. “I’m the liar?”
“You’re lying to yourself, old friend,” Ben said. “You said you wanted me dead, but that’s not true. You and I are brothers. We have a bond that neither of us is willing to break through the shedding of blood. Despite what your uncle told you, we are not Cain and Abel. We are more like Jacob and Esau. You are loved and I am cast aside because of my own foolish decisions, but you are the real trickster, the deceiver. You tricked Richard into thinking that you were the son he wanted you to be, just like Jacob made Isaac believe he was Esau.”
Sione shook his head. “More Bible study lessons?”
“Spencer is a lying bitch,” Ben said. “But you know that she has deceived you. That’s what she does. That is her specialty. That is why she was so effective against you. You’re easy to fool, old friend.”
“Spencer didn’t fool me,” Sione said. “I know why you forced her to go to Belize. I know about the loan she couldn't pay. And I know that to satisfy the debt you forced her into some kind of devil's bargain.”
“I’m not the devil.” Ben smiled. “That’s your father.”
Pissed at Ben’s judgment of Richard, Sione said, “You forced Spencer to deliver fake passports and money to three women who helped you launder money, women who ended up dead.”
“Not by my hands,” Ben said, shaking his head. “I was trying to help those women, trying to get them away from your sadistic father. Richard wanted them dead.”
“You really think their blood is not on your hands?”
Ben smiled, but there was no amusement in the dark, vengeful gaze. “You really think Spencer told you the truth about why I sent her to your resort? You really think you know everything?”
Sione braced himself, knowing Ben would launch a blitzkrieg of veiled accusations and innuendo carefully crafted to make him suspicious, make him doubt what he knew was the truth.
Ben said, “Spencer did not tell you that I sent her to look for that envelope, did she?”
Sione thought about it, and no, she hadn’t. She’d omitted that part, but he wasn’t shocked. He’d known she had secrets, hidden truths she never wanted him to know. He understood the secret, but he didn’t like it and couldn’t stand that her secrets put him at a disadvantage with Ben. Her secrets made him feel like a damn fool, duped and scammed. Worst of all was the smug, superior smile on Ben's face.
“Okay, she lied to me,” Sione said with an indifference masking the indignation spreading through him like poison. “I know she's not perfect. She’s made mistakes. Bad choices.”
“Quite generous of you to be so forgiving of her blatant duplicity,” Ben said. “Old friend, you are better than me. I was not so compassionate and understanding when that sweet girl lied to me.”
Sione stopped him. “When did she lie to you? You mean when she agreed to pay back the loan, not realizing that you would charge five hundred percent interest?”
Ben laughed. “Old friend, I am afraid that you are about to learn the true extent of that sweet girl’s treachery.”
Sione glared, waiting.
“Spencer has deceived you, old friend.” Shaking his head, Ben said, “Don’t turn your back on her. She will put a knife in it.”
The words sounded like an omen, some warning Sione should heed, but it was a false prophecy.
Dragging a hand down the side of his face, Sione stalked toward the back door, where he’d shattered a section of the glass to break into the house. Ben was lying about Spencer. The bastard was trying to get into his head, trying to mess with his mind. For some reason, Sione imagined he could feel the stinging point of something sharp pricking his spine. A knife in his back, sinking between his vertebrae.
Ben said, “The same way she put a knife in mine...”
“You deserved it,” Sione said, pivoting and walking away from the door, his gaze on the kitchen counters to his left. He needed a knife, something sharp to stab into Ben’s neck.
“I didn’t deserve what she did to me,” Ben said, head lolling to the right and then to the left, eyes blinking as though he was struggling to focus. “I was good to that sweet girl. I loved her. Maybe I still do…”
Sione stopped a few feet from Ben and stared at him. “What the hell are you talking about? You don’t even really know Spencer. She was just another woman whose life you tried to ruin. You took advantage of her desperate situation. You tricked her and you used her. How the hell can you love her?”
“I know that sweet girl better than you think,” Ben said. “Did she tell you that we don’t know each other? Well, that’s a lie, old friend.”
Sione sighed, and turned from Ben, facing the sink. A dull ache throbbing at the base of his skull seemed to be steadily creeping up the back of his head. He couldn’t seem to make sense of anything. He was confused and couldn’t think straight. It was impossible that Spencer and Ben knew each other, and yet …
She had met with Ben tonight at the Toyota Center.
Ben was the guy who’d texted her, obviously, requesting the meeting so they could make some kind of exchange.
“I know Spencer very well,” Ben said, a sly taunt in his slurred tone. “I knew her first.”
A jolt went through Sione, and his eyes darted back and forth from the sink to the refrigerator, scanning the counters for a weapon. All he saw was a toaster and a blender. Nothing he could use to stab Ben.
“Before she was with you,” Ben said, “she was with me. And if I had not sent her to Belize to look for my envelope, she would still be with me, old friend. She is only with you because I decided I didn’t want her. True, I did love her, but she told me too many lies.”
“You’re lying,” Sione said, hoping it was true.
Ben said, “I get the feeling she didn’t tell you about our relationship.”
“Your relationship?” Sione scoffed. “What relationship?”
“Spencer an
d I used to be in love,” Ben said. “Well, I was in love. She just wanted my—”
Sione punched him.
Ben shook his head, cursed, and then laughed. “The truth does hurt.”
Sione grabbed the toaster and yanked it, pulling the cord from the wall. Spinning to face Ben, he slammed the toaster against the side of Ben’s head, compelled by rage and fear. Momentum and force caused the chair to topple and tilt to the left. Seconds later, the chair crashed to the floor, and Ben’s head slammed against the tile.
14
The Woodlands, Texas
Carlton Woods Gated Community
Sione leaned back in the leather chair behind his desk in the home office and took another sip of the aged malt scotch.
The Blue Label went down smooth, filling him with a lazy warmth.
Midnight had come and gone. He sat mostly in the dark, the only source of light a faint illumination from the outside terrace lights.
He’d arrived at the mansion an hour ago and had slipped in quietly, not wanting to announce himself. He needed to be alone so he could think. There were decisions to be made. Choices which would most likely be irreversible. He couldn’t afford a hasty reaction. He had to be logical and rational. Mercenary and methodical.
Something had to be done about Spencer.
The drive from the Third Ward area had been too long and yet not long enough.
He’d spent the entire time trying to make himself believe Ben had lied to him about Spencer’s involvement with that damn envelope. He didn’t want to believe Ben had sent Spencer behind enemy lines to accomplish what Kelsey Thomas had failed to do. He couldn’t believe it.
There had to be some other explanation.
The Trojan horse was supposed to make Sione like her, get herself invited to dinner, and get close to him, but Spencer hadn’t done any of that. From the first day Sione had met her, Spencer had been bitchy and abrasive. She hadn’t come on to him, hadn’t really flirted with him. Even when she’d jumped in his lap and kissed him, it seemed more like a rash reaction than a scheming seduction. She’d been quick to kick him out as soon as he’d mentioned her bedroom.