Dagor watched me as realization dawned in my mind . . . Sergio. It couldn’t be Sergio; he was a bumbling idiot. Everything he did was awkward and made me want to run. Perhaps it was an act, like Dagor said. If so, he portrayed it too well and even went over the top. I couldn’t think of him as dangerous, could I? He did lead me into the blind alley. He must have known Dagor was waiting.
“I had my chance at your scrawny neck when you walked out of the hotel early that morning. Sergio told me where to find you. I couldn’t wait to wrap my fingers around your neck and squeeze until every bit of light was snuffed. You were next to the door and then turned back inside.”
My insides churned. I knew there had been someone watching. I could sense the penetrating leer. The sound of the gravelly cough in the darkness had shot fear through me. To find out my instincts were correct, and it was actually Dagor waiting to kill me . . . but why am I still alive? Surely if he wanted to kill me he would have done it by now.
“I thought my chance was gone,” he continued. “You lost the tournament and flew to the U.S. I nearly killed Sergio for helping you, but he said the plane wasn’t going to make it a hundred miles, let alone to the border. It wasn’t how I pictured your death, but at least I couldn’t be blamed for it.”
My knees weakened. It was the first time I was happy about lying on the sofa. I suspected the heap of metal was a death trap. I’ll have to pay more attention to my woman’s intuition. It seems to be right most of the time. Right now it told me Dagor’s story was coming to a close. My fingers fumbled with the knot, but I couldn’t grip it.
Dagor took a sip of his drink and snarled, “You didn’t die! Again you were on death’s door and you walked away unscathed.”
I wouldn’t say unscathed. It was a horrendous experience, and I reeked by the end. I didn’t spend too much time dwelling on it. It was urgent that I come up with a plan, and nothing was coming to mind. Not even a shred of a plan. Not even a hope that Greyson, David, or Remy would find me. Greyson and Remy would be at the party thinking I’d ditched it. It wouldn’t be a far-off theory. They all knew I didn’t want to go.
“But once again you were thrown my way,” he said. His snarl decreased into a slight growl. “Since I lost everything, thanks to you, I went to see the boss. I needed cash, and he needed a job done. Seems like he needed me to get to Caleb and you. At first, my target was Caleb, but then they threw you in too . . . like a bonus,” he said. His slippery smile grew with meaning.
Time was slipping away. Since he was in the talkative mood, I had to keep him talking. There had to be a way out. If Caleb and I were the targets, they might want us alive. Why would anyone want to kill Caleb? He’s a professional poker player, and his death would be publicized and investigated. My death would be hidden in the obituaries. It gave me a small spark of hope. They must be after the object that everyone else and their mother are looking for. Could it actually be the trophy?
“What does your boss want from us? How could he profit from my death?”
“Your death is merely an incentive. Once I finish my job, I can kill you.”
“You could have killed me already,” I said, not liking the churning sensation it caused.
“Yes, but then I don’t get the money,” he said. His eyes narrowed, and his lips thinned. “Don’t think for one second I won’t kill you if I think I won’t collect the money. Killing you far outweighs the pile of money I’ll get paid.”
“Then there’s no reason for me to help you since I will die in both outcomes.” It took every ounce of nerves to keep my voice steady.
“Oh, you’ll help me. I know where your friends are right now.” He smirked. “They’re at the little blonde’s house waiting for you. Even Sergio is there right now to make sure any trail to you is destroyed. If you don’t cooperate, he has a bomb planted and ready to go. It’s a crude bomb. Not the sophisticated kind I like. But it will do the job and blow the house and every one inside to cinders. I think you should cooperate.” He took his last sip of amber liquid and placed the glass on an end table.
He was done talking; I knew it as soon as he set the glass down. I envisioned everyone at the party. I had known Roy the longest, but everyone else, including Frankie, had grown on me. They were now my friends and family. The thought of losing one person was horrendously gut-wrenching, but to lose all of them in one single moment was beyond soul-crushing.
“I can see you understand that I’m deadly serious,” Dagor said. “So, tell me where it is and we can move on to your death. There’s a time limit, so you should hurry. They won’t wait for you all night and will either search for you or head home. If Sergio hears the slightest whisper of anyone leaving, he’ll quickly escape and detonate the bomb before anyone can leave.”
My eyes scanned the room for a clock. There was none in sight. I had no idea what time it was, and the curtains were closed. I couldn’t tell if it was dark.
“You were unconscious for longer than I expected. It would be wise to hurry and tell me everything you know.”
“I don’t know anything. All I know is my house has been searched and so has Caleb’s, Frankie’s, and Roy’s.”
“But nothing was found.”
“Were you the one who searched them?”
“No, but I had Sergio tail the person who did. Nothing was recovered.”
“Are you sure? Sergio doesn’t seem like he’s playing with a full deck.”
“Sergio was acting. I’d warn you not to take him lightly. In his home country he’s known as the Terminator. And his family is . . . ,” he stalled, and I detected the faintest shudder. Glancing at his watch, he said, “You’re running out of time.”
I shivered. “Is this about Caleb’s trophy?”
Dagor narrowed his eyes and nodded. “Yes, I want it.”
“It’s in my apartment. Just go get it.” I had no idea why the trophy was so important, but everyone seemed to want it. And to me it was an ugly, twisted blob that I didn’t have the skill to win in the first place.
Dagor searched my face. His cold, dark eyes pierced through the space between us.
“Your place was searched. How is that possible?”
“The trophy was in the oven, and then it melted into a blob.” A tear stung the corner of my eye. Now that Dagor knew the location of the trophy, there was no need to keep me around. He could kill me at anytime, and I was completely defenseless.
“It melted?” His voice was laced with fear.
“Yes. It’s on the living room coffee table. It looks like an abstract art blob.”
Dagor contemplated. “It could be ruined.”
“If you’re talking about the trophy, yes, it’s ruined.”
“No, I meant. . .” he trailed off, but recalled himself quickly. “Never mind. It won’t matter since you’re going to die anyway.”
“Just do it already,” I growled. I didn’t want to die, but if I had to, then I wanted it to be over with quickly. Dagor was dragging it out, enjoying every minute that pushed me into further anguish, panic, and despair.
Dagor’s eyes blackened as he strode a few steps to me. “There’s nothing I want more than to kill you, but I need the trophy first. Hopefully you didn’t destroy the part I need, or I’ll make sure to kill you agonizingly slow.”
I kicked at him. My bound legs connected with his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. My aim wasn’t good; I was aiming for his crotch. Dagor wheezed as he clutched his chest.
I braced for his counter attack. I may be tied up, but I refused to sit back and die, especially at the hands of Dagor. I swung my legs off the couch. I could stand but the ties didn’t allow for much movement. I couldn’t hold my arms up, and I couldn’t move my feet. He may as well have wrapped me up like a mummy for all the movement the ropes allowed.
Dagor was recovering from the blow. It was dire that I attack again, but I was very limited. I steadied myself on my feet as I sped through my options. I could hop over to him and head-butt him. But seeing
as I had previous concussions, I didn’t want to try that route unless I had to. I could ram him with my body, but he was a bigger, thicker man. I didn’t think it would do too much. He’d be able to react quicker and pummel me.
Dagor turned, hammering me with eyes that were slits filled with hatred. I felt the malice in every bruise he ever gave me. I was out of time. Every nerve and fiber of my muscles lit on fire. He wasn’t going to take me so easily—not without a fight, not when I had reasons to fight. I wouldn’t want any of my friends to give up, and I wouldn’t either.
I hopped three times to close in, hopping once more to kick my feet up into the air and slam him in the stomach. All of my weight was in that kick; there was nothing to hold me back, nothing to stop me. He doubled over in pain and shock while I crashed to the floor, bound by the damn rope. I whimpered as a spasm wound its way through my legs from the contact.
I gritted my teeth at the pain and listened to hear Dagor wheezing. He was doubled over near me. I swung my legs up, smashing his head with my feet. Spit from his mouth flung out from the contact as he toppled over and fell to the ground. He was only slightly dazed. His anger would return with vengeance if I let up. Keeping him down was my only way of survival. I swung myself around to kneel. A small distance of space between us was easily crossed by shimming along the floor.
I didn’t wait for the right moment. I struck as soon as I was in range. My bound hands, fisted together, swung down at Dagor. First at his groin, then at his head as he curled into a ball.
He was conscious and roaring with anger. His body shook as he fought to overcome the assault. If he managed to get up, I was a goner. I wasn’t ready to be a goner, nor could I lose my friends.
I hit him again with my fists . . . again and again. There was nothing to stop me. The turnoff switch in my brain had been overwritten. As long as I was hitting him, he wasn’t hitting me or someone else.
I didn’t know how long I had been mercilessly punching Dagor. My fists were numb by the time I heard someone call my name. My whole body was numb. There was no hurt, no emotion, no thoughts . . . just survival.
The voice sounded far away, perhaps on the other side of a tunnel. I didn’t recognize the voice, but as it drifted closer, it flipped the switch off in my fists. I glanced down at Dagor, who was unconscious and battered. His face was bruised and bloody; so were my hands. I quickly kicked myself away from him, away from what I had done. Tears spilled down my face. I didn’t have time to think. I had to escape.
I pulled myself to the sofa to assist me in standing. There had to be a knife somewhere so I could cut the ropes. I leaned on the sofa and shifted my feet. My wobbly legs protested as I stood. Two hands clamped around my waist; I jerked from surprise. Who had entered the room and when? I spun around to see who it was but twisted like a knot in my bindings.
“Shit!” I cried out as I lost my balance.
I felt a tug at my clothes to keep from falling, but I crashed down onto the floor. My head bounced off the coffee table on the way down. I was able to see two things before I passed out: Dagor was bloody and sprawled out, and Sergio was standing above me with dark eyes. Shit.
Chapter 10
Icy water blasted my face, popping my eyes open. I gasped from the freezing assault. Sputtering and wiping my face with my hands, I noticed the rope binding was off. I was free to move around. Dagor was still next to me on the floor, unconscious. I scrambled to distance myself.
“I’m glad to see you’re awake,” Sergio said.
My eyes flashed. He was still holding the pitcher that had sent water splashing down on me. There was something different about him. His goofy puppy look was gone. Instead, he was serious and dark. His eyes betrayed nothing that could give me a clue about his presence—or whether he was going to help me or lead me into further danger.
“You led me into a blind alley for Dagor,” I growled.
“Come with me, or stay and die. Dagor’s waking up. He won’t be happy when he does.”
“I’ll leave, but not with you.”
“I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
“Yeah, you did a fine job of that. Are you going to handcuff me to your moped if I don’t do what you say?” I argued. His presence irritated me more than anything else. I was fine on my own without his help . . . if that’s what you could call it. He was false with a cotton-candy coating.
He cracked a brief smile, making me stop for a moment. It was an unexpected smile.
“As much as I’d love to cuff you to my ridiculous moped, it wouldn’t be for the purpose of escorting you.” His eyes danced with mischievousness.
My eyes widened, and my pulse skipped a few beats. What happened to silly, annoying Sergio? Somehow Sergio became enthralling and scary all at the same time. It didn’t seem right. It didn’t make sense to see two completely different men in the same body. His presence now caused me to be tongue-tied and awkward.
“I’m leaving,” I said, making it clear I was going alone.
He clutched my wrist. A sting from his touch made me wince. Wrenching my hand from Sergio’s grip, I saw my wrists were red and raw.
He inspected my wrists. “I can fix you up at my place. If we stay here much longer I’ll have to protect you from Dagor, and that won’t be easy.”
I followed Sergio out the door. I wanted to distance myself as far away from Dagor as possible. I’d deal with Sergio later. I didn’t know if my senses were numbed by my encounter with Dagor, but Sergio, while different and a little menacing, was not nearly as frightening as Dagor.
“Not that I need your protection, but why wouldn’t it be easy to protect me? Are you afraid of Dagor?”
We were outside the apartment in a darkly lit hallway. An old staircase wound down four floors. I followed Sergio downstairs at a brisk pace.
“I’ll explain everything when we get to my place.”
We were nearly at the bottom of the stairs when I remembered the bomb. I punched him in the back of the head. It didn’t do much. It only produced a quizzical look. I massaged the tenderness away from my throbbing hand.
“Ow,” Sergio said, rubbing the back of his head. “What was that for?”
“Where’s the bomb?”
“There’s no bomb. I don’t work for Dagor . . . well, not really. It’s complicated.”
A violent voice boomed from above us, “I’ll kill her!”
My heart stopped, and my eyes widened. We fled down the last couple of stairs, bursting through the front door. I ran with Sergio until we reached a black truck. I clamored into the passenger’s side while Sergio swung into the driver’s seat and revved the engine. I watched the building door as he floored the gas, sending us speeding down the road.
When I lost sight of the door and didn’t see Dagor barreling after us, I turned to Sergio. He was the same. Same hair, same clothes . . . it was his personality that changed, which made his whole aura change. His accent remained, but it wasn’t the thick, clunky accent he’d used before. Now it was lighter and highlighted his fluent English. This was going to take some getting used to, but I didn’t intend to be around him too much longer. I had to stick to business. He didn’t seem to be loyal to Dagor, but I didn’t want to be caught blindsided either.
“Do you want the trophy now or will you pick it up later?” I asked, knowing I may as well finalize the business transaction . . . the trophy in exchange for my freedom.
His face didn’t change; no muscle even twitched. “I think it’s safer where it is.”
“You know where it is?”
“I’ve always known.”
“Then why didn’t you take it?”
“I couldn’t take it. Dagor would have wanted it.”
“You’d rather he killed me for it instead?” My patience was slipping. My head hurt, my hands and wrists were covered with bruises and sores. And truthfully, I never had patience.
“No one is going to kill you.”
“Could you tell that to Dagor?”
&nbs
p; “Dagor won’t leave you alone. An insane vendetta is festering inside him. It’s either his death or yours.”
My mouth opened, but nothing came out. My heart had suspected as much. I never wanted to believe something so dark and horrible. His death or mine . . . my fate in a nutshell.
I did beat him to a pulp, but I could never kill someone. His death or my death wasn’t an option. Maybe I could move far away . . . like to France. I do like French food. French fries, French bread, French toast, oh, and my favorite: French onion soup. They have casinos there too. I could easily make money and eat my way to bliss.
As I was forming my brilliant plan, Sergio’s phone rang.
“Yes?” he asked, letting his accent thicken a little. “I’ll be there. I have a tagalong.”
I watched his face, but it didn’t betray who he was talking to. The only thing his face told me was that I had no idea who this man was. I surmised Sergio must have a twin and I was in the truck with him.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be there soon,” he said, ending the call.
He noticed that he was under my watchful surveillance. A smile crept to the side of his mouth, and he gave me a small wink. If Sergio 1.0 had given me that wink, I would have broken out with instant willies, but Sergio 2.0 was able to pull it off with a fluttering butterfly effect. This wasn’t right.
“What’s with you?” I asked, irked by his new personality. Sergio 1.0 was harmless and goofy. Sergio 2.0 was unnerving. “And what’s with the accent?”
“I accentuated the accent for you. I had to follow you around like a puppy. What better way than to act like a love-starved fan with a thick accent.”
“I’m glad you’re not a fan. It was embarrassing.”
“But I am a fan. I saw your hysterical YouTube footage,” he said, adding, “No offense.”
High Stakes Page 10