Eventually everyone settled into the living room a little worse for wear. Frankie and Mark appeared moments later with a cop trapped between them. Their arms were linked with his as they escorted him in.
“Officer Dumfrey needs to ask questions for his report,” Mark said.
“We already gave him our side of the story,” Frankie said, looking around. “What happened here? You all look like hell.”
“I know what would perk them up,” Mark said, letting go of the cop. “I’ll make my famous green power smoothie. Just point me to the kitchen.”
Frankie shook his head violently behind Mark’s back.
Mya bent over the couch and heaved.
“It doesn’t taste that bad,” Mark huffed.
* * *
“Thank you for dropping me off,” I said as Remy pulled in front of the door.
“No problem,” he said.
“Everyone seems to have fled. Mya’s at home with David. Muffin is on her way to California. And Frankie took off with Mark.” I sighed. Sergio’s apartment was quiet again. But this time, I wasn’t looking forward to it.
“Do you want me to walk you up to the apartment?”
“You don’t have to.” I sighed again.
He put the car into park and cut the engine. He looked over at me before pushing out the door, muttering something under his breath.
“Do you think he’ll be okay?” I asked Remy in the elevator.
“Who?”
“Greyson.”
“Yeah. He’ll be okay. The question is, will you?”
“I lost him.”
“I assume you’re talking about Caleb,” he said as we walked down the hall. He took my keys and let me into the dark apartment.
“Yes. He’s gone.” I sighed again, flipping on the lights.
“Then he wasn’t meant for you,” Remy said, heading to the kitchen. He came back with a mini bottle of wine and pressed it into my hands. “Real love isn’t one-sided.”
“It sure feels real,” I said, thinking more about the real feeling of pain—shooting and stabbing—I was currently experiencing.
“Come on, Jet. I’ll tuck you into bed.”
I took a swig of wine and followed him into the bedroom. Giving another feeble sigh, I flopped down on my air mattress.
He knelt down and slipped off my shoes.
“What’s your story, Remy?”
“I don’t have a story,” he said, pulling the blanket up to my neck.
“Liar.”
“Maybe there is a story, but it’s not for you,” he said, placing a slow kiss on my forehead . . . then my nose . . . then my lips. “You have a story too, and it’s not finished. Not by a long shot.” He pressed one last kiss and stood. “Go to sleep. Tomorrow’s another day.”
Remy’s hot and cold attention had me baffled, but he was right. Tomorrow is another day. Another long, painful day. I finally fell asleep with empty mini bottles spread around me, hoping Remy could find some peace even if I couldn’t.
It was another day. Seemingly the same as any other day except for the gaping hole in my heart.
I shuffled into the living room to find an envelope had been slipped under the door. I stooped to pick it up.
Not just any other day.
I ripped open the envelope and removed the check for a million dollars.
Definitely not just any other day.
Yes, Remy, I think you’re right. My story is not nearly over.
I made a quick call to Frankie and then jumped in the shower. By the time I was heading out the door, a familiar person stepped off the elevator.
“Sergio?” I asked. His eyes snapped over and a smile grew on his face.
I raced over. “I can’t believe you’re back . . . and alive! I was worried about you.”
“I’m back for now,” he said, tugging me into a hug. “It’s so good to see you. I’m surprised to see you here.”
“I’ve been hiding out,” I said shyly and then remembered to give him the key to the lock. I slipped it off my key ring and handed it to him. I was about to pocket my key ring but stopped to give it another look. It had the chapel keys, my old apartment key, and my car key . . . all of which were gone. I had absolutely nothing and no place. It made my current path all that much clearer. I tossed the keys in the hall garbage without a second glance.
“There’s food and wine to last you for a couple of days,” I said.
“What about you? Are you staying?”
“No. I have to catch a plane.”
“Where are you going?”
“Venice.”
“I was hoping to visit with you. Can I at least drop you off at the airport?” he asked.
“That would be great,” I said, pushing the elevator button. “Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
As we stepped on the elevator, I said, “Whenever I think of you, it’s with the silly accent and goofy T-shirts.”
He smirked. “I was playing a role, and I did it well.”
“You sure did,” I said, remembering the way that I used to avoid the annoying mega fan who turned out to be the wayward son of a drug lord.
He glanced at my arm as we walked to his truck. “I see you’ve been up to your usual mischief.”
“It’s never my mischief. How’s your mom?”
“Alive and far away.”
“And the business?”
“Gone.”
“And your brother?”
“Dead. Not by my hand,” he hastily added.
Anyone else I would’ve felt sorry for. But this was a good thing. He was free from the family. He did what he set out to do and ruined the family business.
“And you’re alive,” I said again. “I’m relieved.”
“I survived. At least for now.”
“You’re not safe?”
“Don’t worry. I will be,” he said as though he was forcing himself to believe it.
“The Families,” I said in thought. “They aren’t happy.”
“Let’s just say the Families were more entangled than I originally suspected. When I took down mine, they felt it too.”
They’ll come after him, I thought. They’ll know he’s here.
He smiled, reading my thoughts. “Don’t worry, my poker goddess. They’ll come for me, but I’ll be ready. I’ve learned their weakness.” His eyes drifted over my shoulder. “But, now is not the time to talk about it. Let’s get you to the airport.”
“Can we stop at the bank first?” I asked.
“As you wish,” he said with a teasing smile.
“I’m glad you’re back,” I said with a laugh and hopped into his truck.
“I am too.”
* * *
The European Poker Tour consisted of eight tournaments in eight different countries. I was on my first day of the second tournament. I sat between two men who were speaking in a foreign language. Everyone was speaking in a foreign language and it was oddly comforting. I assumed it was German since I was in Munich.
I repetitively shuffled a stack of chips in my hand, ignoring everything around me except for the hand dealt. Voices began blending together. The players blended together. In fact, the whole tournament was like moving through a Monet painting. Such was my life since I’d left Vegas.
In my numb, melancholy state, I was actually doing very well and had already doubled my stack. It was probably because I didn’t care. I never became agitated and I never second-guessed. It was mathematical and logical. Simple, unemotional cards. It’s what carried me through the first tournament.
I had won the first tournament.
I had actually won a major tournament and took the five-hundred-thousand euro prize. What that equated to in dollars, I had no idea. It was a good win, but it didn’t mean anything. Well, it did, but so many other things seemed to trump it. It was just a part of the hazy Monet painting.
A tournament director closed the table to consolidate. I scooped up my chips and move
d to my new table. I sank down in the chair and restacked them. A hand was already in play, so I leaned back and relaxed. I automatically reached out to shuffle my chips. There was something soothing about feeling the smooth, round chips in my hand and hearing them click together as they fell.
Something brushed against my leg and I felt a tingle. It broke through my peaceful haze. Odd. Not even winning the first tournament had broken through. I ignored the tingle and resumed shuffling. When it happened again, I glanced over at the man next to me. He glanced back.
“Hi, kitten,” Caleb said as soft as a caress, which was at odds with the hard-drawn lines on his face. “Congrats on your win.”
Chapter 27
“Thanks,” I uttered. What the hell is Caleb doing here? My Monet painting exploded into a Picasso. I had hoped he would follow me, but I had given up hoping after the first couple of weeks.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he said just as softly.
“I was in Italy.”
“I know. I read the news that you won. Are you playing the whole tour?”
“Yes. Are you?”
“It depends.”
“On what?”
He tossed a chip in the pot and then leaned back to look at me. “You.”
I took a breath and focused my attention on the table. “I have a tournament to play.”
“And I have a favor to grant.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I do. Although it’s not what you originally requested.”
My eyes slid to him. “You won’t forgive me?” I asked, as my breath lodged in my throat.
“I was upset. It had nothing to do with forgiveness. You did nothing to be forgiven for. So, you still have a favor you can use.”
“I have no favor to ask.”
“Then you can keep it for later.”
“Caleb . . .”
“It’s yours,” he stated, ending the conversation, but not before he touched my leg and I felt the singe of his fingers.
My breath hitched.
How am I going to survive this tournament?
* * *
Our eyes locked as we sat at the final table. Caleb had just knocked out a player, leaving the two of us heads-up in front of a camera crew and audience. Five beautiful women dressed in low-cut necklines and high-slit dresses walked out, stacking bundles of euros on the table. The prize.
I didn’t even know how much the prize was. I didn’t care. The last couple of days I had focused on cards . . . except when I would catch sight of Caleb at a neighboring table. Our eyes had met several times, and each time my heart strangled itself a little bit more. He was close and aloof at the same time. It was as if he wanted to call me over only to turn his back. It didn’t make sense. Why is he here? If it was just to clear his marker, he could have waited.
How was I going to play heads-up with him? I should just let him win and walk away with what shreds of a heart I had left. But I couldn’t. Now that he was so close, I’d take whatever time I could.
The women placed their last bundle, struck a pose, and then strolled off. The dealer put his hand on the cards to deal. Caleb motioned for him to wait. We both looked at Caleb in confusion. Caleb sat there for a moment, shuffling his chips in thought.
“Nadia,” he finally said, reaching into his pocket to pull something out. I couldn’t see what it was, but he held onto it as if it was precious. “The last time we were heads-up was the first time we met. I fell in love with you on the spot. And then you were gone. We found each other again and you stole my heart entirely. And then you were gone . . . again.” He opened the small box in his hand and pushed it to the where the prize money sat. “I’d like another wager.”
A stir buzzed through the audience.
A diamond ring sat in the box, blinding me with sparkles. It was the most beautiful ring I’d ever seen. I closed my open jaw and turned my wide eyes to Caleb.
“A ring?” I mumbled, dumbfounded.
“If I win, you marry me.” His eyes sparkled just like the diamonds.
Holy . . . “And if I win?” I asked, fighting the urge to make a blundering tell. Although, with a gaping mouth and wide eyes, that cat was out of the bag.
“I don’t lose,” he said smugly, knowing exactly how to bait and hook.
But I was already hooked. How could I not be? Married to Caleb. I was willing to take whatever he offered. However, I’d never expected this.
“All-in?” I asked.
He smiled and nodded. “All-in.”
“I might win,” I said.
“Not likely,” he said with teasing eyes that lured.
Our eyes mingled and we both shoved our chips in, the diamond ring twinkling in the middle. Even while shoving my chips in, I knew that he was going to win. He always wins . . . except for the one time he lost. And things didn’t work out so well afterward. Best not to think about that. As I looked across the table at Caleb, I knew this was what I wanted. He was what I wanted.
Caleb gave a nod to the dealer to proceed. I watched as our two cards were dealt face up. I had a queen and an eight. I looked over at Caleb’s cards. A seven and a two? Our eyes locked in remembrance. It’s statistically the worst hand ever. Also, the same hand that I had lost to him in our last tournament. Caleb defied statistics. He was going to win. And I was quite happy to let him. For the first time in my life, I wanted to lose a tournament. Even if I wanted to win, there was nothing I could do. We were all-in and the dealer was setting down the flop.
Married to Caleb.
Our relationship might’ve had a rocky start, but it didn’t matter because I could envision a wonderful life with him.
I glanced at the flop. A pair of twos and a queen. I made a pair but Caleb made a three of a kind. He was winning and smiling smugly. The heat in his gaze warned that there’d be a long, steamy celebratory night ahead.
God, married to Caleb, I thought again. Our kids would know how to wager before they could walk. Kids? Startled at the thought, I peeked up at Caleb who still wore a smile. His gaze had never left me. Kids. I could picture toddlers with mops of caramel-colored hair and eyes as blue as a tranquil ocean.
The turn was laid. A ten.
I glanced at the ring, wondering how it’d feel on my finger. When I had pictured myself with Caleb, a ring never entered the picture. But the addition was perfect. For a woman who doesn’t care about accessories, I was nearly giddy with anticipation, longing to slip it on. I’m sure it was written all over my face. I could already hear Roy scolding while he watches the final table on television. But who cares? I’m marrying Caleb!
The dealer turned over the river. A queen. I smiled and then frowned.
A queen! I won.
Caleb blew out a low breath and pushed back from the table.
I won.
I didn’t want to win. Dammit! Why do I always win when I don’t want to?
A swarm of people circled around me, congratulating me. Direction was given for the trophy handoff and interview.
I pushed through to find Caleb. He was gone.
No!
I scanned the room.
No!
Chapter 28
I grabbed the tournament director. “Where did Caleb go?”
“It’s time to take your place for the award,” he instructed, ignoring my question. The poker girls strolled out and took their places in front of the camera. The tournament director led me to stand in front of them. A trophy was plunked into my hand. I gave a bewildered stare to the camera.
He ran!
Caleb ran.
I sighed with a defeated laugh. I deserved it. How many times did I run? How many times did he welcome me back? I never expected him to run. But maybe he didn’t think I’d want to marry him after he lost. It’s hard to say what a man will do with a bruised ego. And, unfortunately, I think I bruised it more than I realized. He could have at least congratulated me though. I glanced at the table where the ring was still sitting and sparkling.
Time to collect on my favor!
* * *
“Jessica!” I growled into the phone. “How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?”
“I still have marks from the tape!”
“That was over two weeks ago. You don’t have marks.”
“You tied me like a hog and then proceeded to get abducted.”
“It wasn’t like a hog. You were wrapped like a mummy. A very stylish mummy,” I added, knowing I was digging myself deeper. But, really, it couldn’t be helped. She was irritating and haughty. A couple of jabs were required.
“You do realize that I’m the only one who can help you?” she gritted.
“Yes, I’m sorry,” I said, backpedaling. “I have to find Caleb. Please help me.”
“If he doesn’t want to see you, it’s my job to ensure it.”
“Did he tell you what he did tonight?” I asked.
“No. He didn’t answer my call. Did he win the tournament?”
“No.”
“Really?” she asked in puzzlement. Caleb not winning a tournament could give anyone pause. “Who did?”
“I did.”
A beat of silence. “So, you want to rub it in his face that you won?”
“No. I want the favor he owes me.”
“Another one of your side wagers?” she asked with a sigh.
“Yes.”
“Sorry, you’ll have to wait. I already have him scheduled to make appearances.”
“You will help me,” I stated as my patience began slipping. The thought of losing Caleb again made my toes turn ice cold. She could have him on a plane and out of my grasp in a blink. “Otherwise, all your PR work will be washed down the drain.”
“Don’t you dare threaten me!”
“I’m not threatening you. Caleb wagered with me at the final table for the whole world to see.” I knew her PR instincts would kick in to smoothing over any problems. I just needed her on my side. Once she knew . . .
Squeeze Play Page 20