by Angie Martin
Tony dealt himself three cards before the second round of betting began. Aaron, Paul, Joe, and Eric all said, “Check,” when their turn came to bet, and Rachel’s strategy changed. Four out of five opponents declined to bet, which told her no one’s hand was as spectacular as they originally thought.
Rachel looked at the neat stacks of chips in front of her. She had already won over four hundred dollars in chips that night so her ego wouldn’t be too bruised if she lost this one hand. She picked up a blue chip, designated as the five-dollar chip for the game, and tossed it into the pot.
Tony groaned and dropped his cards facedown in front of him. One down, she thought. When Aaron folded next, she stopped herself from smiling at her luck. Paul met her bet of five dollars, while Joe folded. Eric raised her five more dollars.
Rachel didn’t hesitate, seeing Eric’s five and adding five more. Paul folded. Eric threw in another blue chip and called. Knowing Eric’s competitive nature wouldn’t allow him to fold anytime soon, Rachel also called. Eric fanned out his hand on the table displaying a two-pair, kings over fives. Rachel showed her aces over sevens with a large smile.
“Damn,” Aaron said. “I folded with a three of a kind and all you guys had were two-pairs.”
Joe pushed his chair back and headed to the makeshift bar in the corner of the room. He filled a shot glass with tequila. “Anyone else want one?” he asked.
“Over here,” Eric said. “Make it a double.”
Rachel glanced at her small collection of empty beer bottles and declined.
Tony shuffled the cards. “I’m ready to get out of here.” After their monthly poker game, it was custom for the others to leave for town, where they drank and played pool and darts until early morning. Tony had a girl named Gina that he visited while in town, and the others almost always found someone to keep them company.
Paul usually stayed at the estate with her, but left on occasion, if for no other reason than to get out. From the stories of the others, she knew Paul kept to himself while out, remaining true to his deceased wife in a way that caused the dormant romantic side of Rachel to ooh and ah.
“Can I go this time?” Rachel asked. She had always wanted to go with them to town and rediscover the world she left when her parents died.
Joe patted her shoulder. “Rach, you’re eighteen. You can’t get into a bar until you’re twenty-one.”
“I could get a fake ID,” she said.
Paul pushed his chair back and stood up. “No way, Rachel. That’s illegal.”
“So when did obeying the law become part of our code of ethics? Come on, guys. How is it possible that given all the expertise in this room, we can’t come up with one fake ID?”
“Truth?” Tony asked. “We don’t want to get in a fight because some jerk won’t leave you alone.”
Rachel scowled. “You act like I can’t take care of myself.”
Joe laughed. “Oh, so we let you get in a fight instead and then have to explain to Donovan why his sweet little Rachel is in jail.”
“I promise I’ll be good. Nobody will go to jail.”
“Sorry, Rachel,” Paul said. “It’s not going to happen.” His fatherly tone told her it was the end of the discussion.
Rachel threw up her hands in defeat and stood up. “Fine. I guess I’ll roam the grounds aimlessly again.” She started out the door.
“Make sure you call ahead and let George know you’re out there,” Paul said. George was the security guard that headed up their relief team.
“As always. Have fun, guys.” Rachel climbed the stairs two at a time. Near the employee entrance in the back, she grabbed a radio out of the closet that housed their security gear. Holding it close to her mouth, she said, “Hey, George. You out there?”
“Go ahead, Rachel,” George said.
She stepped onto the back patio and continued with their routine, monthly dialogue. “I’m headed outside.”
“We’ll keep an eye out for you. Tell me when you’re off the grounds, okay?”
“Sure thing, George.” She secured the radio onto her belt and started down the slight incline that led to her favorite place on the grounds. Next to the chain link fence and barbed wire was a patch of land under a large oak tree where Rachel wasted countless hours as a child. From this spot, she had an incredible view of the forest rising and falling with the mountainous curves. Not quite as good as the roof, she thought, but still a beautiful view.
The King estate was built as a gift to Donovan’s mother from his father. Tucked away in a corner of the world where the Sierra and Cascade mountains collided, the estate provided his mother with a home that, for her last year on earth, could help her forget the cancerous cells that knew nothing of mercy. Rachel had heard the story numerous times over the years from Paul. It was an example of a real life fairy tale, one that Rachel held as dear to her heart as the ones her mother told her when she was young.
Rachel turned at the sound of footsteps and rolled her eyes at Eric’s approaching silhouette. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him, although Eric didn’t top her list of favorite people. She had been looking forward to a quiet evening alone with her thoughts and nature.
“I thought you went with the others,” she said when he reached her.
He shrugged. “Changed my mind. Paul scheduled me for rounds in the morning, so it’s probably not a good idea to go out.” He glanced around, his brow creased. “So this is what you do when we’re gone, huh?”
“Pretty much.”
“Seems kind of boring.”
“I enjoy it,” she said.
“So, you’ve got your big job tomorrow. Are you nervous?”
“Not really. It’s just another job.”
“It’s one of the biggest jobs in recent memory. Are you sure you can pull it off? You can still back out if you don’t think you can hack it.”
“I have to pull it off and backing out isn’t an option. Wilkes is counting on us to get this job done, and I’m going to do it right. But I don’t want to talk about it right now. I had hoped to come out here to help get my mind off it. That’s why I wanted to go with the others tonight.”
He took a few steps toward her, standing much closer to her than Rachel liked. “Well, since King’s in Los Angeles until tomorrow and the others are gone for the night, I guess I’ll have to volunteer to take your mind off the job.”
The strong stench of tequila wafted from his breath and toward Rachel. She stepped back from him. “I’ll probably go inside soon and rest up.”
“What, don’t want to spend time with me?”
“It’s not you, Eric. Like you said, I have a big day tomorrow.”
“Back to the job, are we? That’s all we ever talk about.”
“That’s what our lives consist of, rounds and jobs.”
“It must have been hard for you, growing up here.”
Confused at the strange turn in conversation, she asked, “What do you mean?”
“You never got to go do high school things, like others girls your age. Instead you did rounds and jobs.”
“Somehow I don’t think I would have done well in high school,” she said, laughing. “I’m not exactly pep squad material.”
“You’re right. That’s definitely not you.” Eric paused. “But there are other things you missed out on. You never got to do the dating thing.”
As the words left his lips, stale air wrapped around her. Though she was accustomed to Eric’s inappropriate comments, tonight his eyes seemed different, as if they were seeing every part of her. She regretted not taking the shot of tequila, positive it would have made the exchange and his presence easier to digest.
“I never wanted to do the dating thing,” she said.
“Surely you don’t want to go through life not knowing what it’s like to be touched by a man.” He moved closer to her. “Don’t you want to know how good it can be?”
Rachel shifted her weight and backed up again. Dangerously close to the oak tree, sh
e became concerned with being cornered against the bark. “Eric, I don’t think we should have this discussion,” she said.
“Oh, I see how it is,” he said, with a condescending tinge in his tone. “You’re waiting for him, aren’t you? You keep hoping that one day King’s going to tell you he wants you.”
Rachel swallowed, and hoped Eric couldn’t see the scarlet streak spreading across her cheeks and creased forehead. “I...I’m not quite sure I know what you’re talking about.”
Eric guffawed. “You think I don’t know? That I don’t see how you look at him? Even an idiot could figure out what scenarios start running through your head every time he walks into the room.”
“Eric—”
“Are you that stupid to think he would want anything to do with you? You’re the hired help, Rach. The only thing he’d want is to use you.” He rested his hand beside her on the tree trunk, his whisper harsh and the toxic fumes of alcohol harsher. “You can do so much better than him. One night with me, and I’ll make you forget that King ever existed.”
Rachel threw her hands up. “That’s it. This conversation is over.” She jerked sideways and moved around him so she could go back to the house.
“You better forget it, Rach,” he called from behind her. “It’s never going to happen with him.”
She grabbed the radio off her belt and let George know she was leaving the grounds for the night.
Chapter Forty
Rachel hit the mat with a thud. She laid still and tried to catch her breath. Paul’s face appeared over her. “We’re finished. I’m not sparring with you anymore. That’s the third time you’ve gone down today.”
“I know, I know.”
“Are you worried about tonight?”
Rachel sat up. Her frustration peaked at the same question being asked of her over and over by everyone she ran across that day. Of course she was worried. She had promised Donovan perfection. She couldn’t be sure of the consequences if one thing went wrong.
“Hey, Rach,” Paul said. “Still alive down there?”
“Yes, I’m worried about tonight. Every last detail is planned, every possibility is accounted for, but what if something happens? I don’t want to be responsible for that.”
He sat down beside her. “This job comes with a lot of pressure, maybe too much. You’re not just doing it for Donovan, you’re doing it for Graham Wilkes. Nobody would blame you if you dropped out now. Someone else can do it, maybe someone from Graham’s camp.”
“No, they can’t, which is why it’s my assignment. Wilkes doesn’t have any women on his payroll, remember? That’s why he farmed it out to Donovan.”
“True, but we could find someone else with time.”
“But Donovan volunteered me. I can’t let him down. Backing out now would reflect poorly on not only me, but him as well.”
“Are you sure you want to do it?”
Rachel wasn’t sure about anything at the moment, but she would do the job without complaint. “I’ll be fine.”
“Good. Maybe you ought to go rest.”
“Paul, I think I’m old enough to decide when I need to rest.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I keep forgetting you’re an adult now.”
“It’s okay.” She was silent for a moment. “I think I’ll go rest for a while,” she said, and she got to her feet.
He laughed. “As stubborn as ever.”
In her bedroom, Rachel sat on her bed with the intention of lying down for a bit. After a moment of sitting, though, she became restless again. She decided it was best to take a shower, knowing her anxiety level would never let her rest. She needed calm, and a hot shower would go a long way in bringing it, even if it was temporary.
When she moved into the estate eight years earlier, Donovan brought in contractors to enlarge her room by knocking down walls between three adjoining rooms. He had the contractors work in teams of five around the clock so Rachel would have her room ready quickly.
Rachel couldn’t contain her excitement during construction, the commotion of the improvements being the only thing that took her mind off the death of her parents. Donovan had the contractors turn one of the rooms into a large bathroom, commenting that every girl needed not only their privacy, but an extraordinary bathroom.
Within a week, he delivered on his promise. Rachel had never seen such beautiful tiles and fixtures. The bathroom not only had an extra-large shower with two shower heads at competing angles, but a separate tub with whirlpool jets and a pillow to rest her head. Around the tub were small recesses in the walls, sized to hold candles. Rachel could not remember seeing a more extravagant bathroom.
Rachel never once took the bathroom for granted, but it was the only bit of luxury she allowed herself. Her bedroom was the stark opposite of the bathroom, white walls with only a bed, a dresser, and an armchair. Donovan had instructed the contractors to make the bedroom twice as nice as the bathroom, but Rachel had stopped him. She did not want to take advantage of his generosity, since she was a stranger in his home. Not only had he already done too much for her, she also concerned herself with how long she would be at the estate, having learned quite early that everyone dies and she could be left alone at any small twist of fate.
Standing under the steady stream of the shower heads now, Rachel was glad she allowed Donovan to have the bathroom built to his specifications. He was right that every girl needed an extraordinary bathroom, a sanctuary to relax her cares away. She closed her eyes and let the hot water roll off her back. She coaxed her tense muscles to relax and took in deep breaths of the therapeutic hot steam.
Back in her bedroom, she dressed in a pair of jeans and a black, ribbed tank top. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she ran through every step of the job several times. The more she thought about it, the more nervous she became, erasing the benefits of her shower. Time became her enemy as her watch ticked off the minutes faster than ever before. A freight train running at her at top speed, she couldn’t freeze the hands of time to jump out of the path of collision. Before she knew it, the job would be done, and she was sure she would never be the same.
No matter how strong her fears, backing out of the job was the last thing on her mind. She needed to prove to everyone she could do it. After several years, she gained acceptance among the other residents of the estate. If the job did not go right, it could destroy everything she achieved. Of course, so could the issues she now had with Eric. She couldn’t avoid him forever, but after his behavior last night, she wanted to stay far away from him until their conversation was a distant memory.
A polite knock on the door interrupted Rachel’s thoughts. “Come in,” she said.
Donovan entered the room. Rachel rose from the bed and greeted him, her eyes fixated on his smile. The sight of him was of great comfort to her, and it helped relieve some of her apprehension over the job. She wished he was going with her tonight to do the job, as it would make it much easier for her.
“You’re back,” she said. “Did your meeting go well?”
“Always does. Are you ready for tonight?” he asked.
Rachel knew better than to let her fears come through in her tone. “Yes,” she said.
“Paul mentioned you might be a little nervous,” he said.
She wanted to strangle Paul for saying anything of the sort, especially to Donovan. “I’m not nervous.”
“Eric also said you were acting strange last night.”
Rachel bit back all the remarks she wanted to make about Eric. That he would bring up such a thing to Donovan seemed too much like sabotage, although she couldn’t fathom what his motive might be. “I’m fine. Please don’t worry about me.”
“I can’t help it. This is a big job and you’ve never done anything like it before. Are you sure you can go through with it? That you won’t falter at the last second?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Everything will go smoothly with no hitches.”
He moved toward her. “You would tell me if you didn’t wa
nt to do it, right?” he asked, not letting the subject go.
No, she wouldn’t tell him because whether she wanted to do it or not no longer mattered. She had accepted the job and now she had to do it. No one ever denied Donovan when asked to do a job, let alone back out of one once they were committed. “Trust me, I’m okay,” she said.
She did not notice her fingers twisting in front of her waist until he put his hands over hers. “You don’t seem okay. I mean, you sound okay and that’s what you keep telling me, but I know you’re not. You only do that thing with your hands when you’re nervous.”
Rachel flushed, unaware anyone knew of her habit. “Maybe I’m a little anxious.”
Donovan brushed her hair out of her eyes and rested his hands on her shoulders. He frowned. “You’re tense. So much for being fine.”
His hands gave her shoulders a quick squeeze, and crimson traveled around her neck. She hated being this close to him and felt guilty for enjoying his touch and wanting more. Her attraction to him burned through her. She tried to look at him with normal eyes, but she knew they exposed the feelings she tried to hide from him. There were moments when she thought he wanted her, too, but they were fleeting. A glance here, a gentle touch there.
Donovan appeared uneasy, as if he could read her innermost thoughts and did not feel the same. He cleared his throat, and dropped his hands from her shoulders. Stepping back, he asked again, “Are you sure about this?”
Rachel looked away from him, unable to conceal her disappointment that he had retreated from her. “I’m sure, Donovan. There’s no need to worry.”
“Good. When you’re dressed, please meet Paul and I in the waiting room.”
As soon as he shut the door she flopped backwards on her bed, wishing she could sink into the mattress and disappear. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced Donovan out of her mind. More important things deserved her full attention.
After she dressed, she walked to the bathroom and pinned up her hair. She arranged the wig on her head and examined her appearance in the oval, full-length mirror in the corner. The blonde curls of the wig helped her appear at least five years older and rendered her unrecognizable.