8
Eric
I drove in a blur. I didn’t even have a final destination in mind; I just wanted to get away from everything I’d heard in that motel room.
Mom lied to me about the trust fund. What the hell was up with that? And how the hell hadn’t I figured it out before?
I’d never met my grandparents, so why would they leave a trust fund to Mom that she only got access to when I was fifteen? I was a stupid, dumb kid too caught up in my rage to fit any of the pieces together.
And Dad...what the hell!
Conning some guy out of five hundred thousand dollars then faking his death and going into hiding. It was the kind of shit you saw in movies. This stuff didn’t happen in real life.
I screeched to a halt at the stop sign, nearly taking out an irate pedestrian. I raised my hand in apology, which she barely accepted, shaking her head and stomping across the road.
I eased across the intersection and slowed my pace, my mind still a maelstrom. I couldn’t wrap my head around it all. My parents were obviously still in love, which for some reason creeped me out big time. Had Mom known? Had she and Dad been secretly communicating all this time?
I smacked the wheel with my hand.
Screw them!
They could run off to New Zealand if they wanted to, I didn’t care.
I wasn’t going anywhere with them.
Caity.
She was the only good, pure thing left in my life. I could forgive her lies about working undercover because this thing must have been a big deal. There was no way she would have taken it on if it hadn’t meant helping someone in need. This whole thing was probably saving lives somehow and that was what scared me. Caity was the kind of girl who never put herself first. She’d do anything to help anyone and that was how I knew she was in trouble.
I needed to find her.
As if hearing my thoughts, my phone began to buzz. I snatched it off the dashboard and read the screen, jerking to the side of the road and parking askew against the curb.
“Sullivan. Tell me something good.” My hopeful greeting was met with a pause that only filled me with dread. “What?”
“I wish I could. I...don’t have much, I’m sorry.”
I closed my eyes and hit my head on the back of the seat. “Well, what do you have?”
He sighed. “I’ve spoken to Kaplan and she...” He clicked his tongue. “Look, she’s saying that she hasn’t spoken to Caity since the Hoffman case. She had no idea what I was talking about.”
“That’s bullshit!” My head jerked off the seat.
“Yeah, I, uh, actually think you’re right. She was really snappy and cold—even more so than normal. I don’t know. I kind of got this guilty vibe. I feel like she’s lying.”
“Of course she is! There’s no way she’d be allowed to involve Caity like this. She’ll say anything to cover her own ass.”
“You’re probably right.”
I gripped the wheel, my knuckles going so white I thought they might burst through the skin. “Where is she?”
“Eric, you can’t go and see her.”
“Tell me where she is.”
“She’s cleaning up after a sting operation in Arizona.”
“Was Caity there?”
“Kaplan wouldn’t say.”
“Well, what about her roommate, Quella? Caity was going away with her. Did you ask about that?”
“Look, kid, I tried and she completely stone-walled me. Kaplan has this case sewn up tight. I can’t get access to anything. My hands are completely tied.”
“Please.” The word came out breathy and broken, making Sullivan sigh.
“Give me her name again.”
“Quella, Quella M-something. Shit, I can’t remember. But I’m sure she’s involved. Why else would Caity stay in the dorms with her? She was acting really weird and going way outside of her comfort zone to help this girl out. It must be to do with this case. You agreed with me when I told you that last night.”
“Yeah, and I still do.” Sullivan’s voice was quick and sharp. He sounded just as frustrated as I did. “Look, I’ll make a few more calls and see what I can swing, but we’re talking FBI here. I’m way out of my jurisdiction and if Kaplan won’t let me in, there’s really nothing much I can do.”
“Please.” I closed my eyes. “Just do whatever you can.”
“I will. You have my word.”
I hung up, completely deflated. I was no closer to finding Caity and I didn’t know why I couldn’t shake it, but I was convinced she wouldn’t be waiting on my doorstep when I got home.
Something was wrong.
I could feel it.
Hanging onto the wheel, I pressed my forehead against my hands and out of nowhere a hiccuping sob shot from my belly. My shoulders shook, my whole body trembling as my eyes burned with tears.
I never cried. It wasn’t me at all, but this was too much. The last twenty-four hours had been complete hell and the thing that was killing me more than anything else was that Caity was out there somewhere and I couldn’t reach her. She could be hurt, she could be scared, she could be suffering… and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
9
Caitlyn
Sal collected me in his silent way and walked me toward the elevator. The doors were just closing when Bruno’s hand appeared. They bounced back open and I caught his malign smile as he stepped in beside me. I dropped my gaze to the floor and kept it there for the short ride.
The second the doors opened my senses were assaulted. Sal and Bruno escorted me down the three stairs and I was hit first by the sounds: clicking chips, the chattering hum of patrons, the clinking of coins and electronic blips of the slot machines. I couldn’t believe how busy the slots were, considering it was only nine o’clock in the morning. I guessed that was Vegas.
We walked down the first row of slot machines, following the red and gold carpet. Everything in this casino was either black, red or gold. It was like being in a dungeon. Red lights shone up from the base of the black walls, which had been carved to look as though you were inside a cave. The combination of that and the eerie lights gave the interior a creepy feeling. Why would people want to gamble in here? It was like a dark pit.
Bruno snickered at my expression. “The Devil’s Palace. You like it?”
I didn’t respond, my eyes too busy drinking in the lavish expanse.
“Well, you are the exception. People love to come here.”
“I don’t know why.” I couldn’t help a little snark.
Bruno’s breath was hot in my ear as he whispered, “There’s a little devil in all of us. People come here to unleash it.”
I shrank away from his snigger.
We headed away from the slot machines and passed through a grand archway that read Alegria.
“What does that mean?” I mumbled.
“Joy.”
My nose wrinkled. I couldn’t imagine ever finding joy in this place. Through the archway was a completely different type of palace. Shiny gold was draped everywhere, huge swatches of it graced the walls like a cascading waterfall of glittery fabric. The shiny, round bar was surrounded by dazzling lights, and the back wall looked to be lined with diamonds. The tables were black with brass imprints of an overflowing champagne glass. We walked through the swanky area and headed out another archway.
The next one was red and metallic, reading Pecado.
Bruno’s voice was in my ear again. He pinched my arm, not letting me shy away. “That means sin.”
My back went stiff.
“There is no guilt in this place...it entices people. That is why they come.” His fingers wiggled beneath my hair, teasing the back of my neck. “Let go, Carlotta. Give in to your temptations.”
If I did that, I’d be punching him in the balls, kneeing him in the nose and running for the door. But I couldn’t do it.
For one, it could mean Santiago would hand me over to the fiendish freak and secondly, where the hell would I
find an exit?
My eyes darted the red room, looking for any sign of escape, but there was none. Every pathway in this place led in, not out. It was a trick casinos employed. People were supposed to lose track of time and place. No clocks, hard-to-find exits. The tricks were subtle, but I didn’t miss them.
The red room was worse than the pit. The lights were darker; to the left was a smoldering stage. A singer dressed in a sparkling bikini top and dark red hot pants was strutting the stage, her sultry voice oozing out some song I didn’t recognize. The room was filled with men, most of them balding and wrinkled.
I didn’t bother hiding my disgust as we passed by.
We finally came to the next archway. This one was square, more business-like, the lettering above the door was formal and read Fortuna.
“Fortune?” I guessed.
Bruno nodded. “We like the patrons to think they will come out rich.”
I wanted to rip the imperious grin right off his face. There was no point ripping off his mask either, because I’d only see an exaggerated version of the expression, and I didn’t think I could stomach it. I flicked my eyes back to the casino floor.
We were in the serious gambling room. The noise was quieter, the background music a soft hum. There were no slot machines or garish colors. Everything in this room was soft and homey. Fairy lights sparkled from the ceiling, looking like stars. The floor lighting was dim and comforting. It looked like the room was lined with candles, but when I squinted to check, I could see they were actually clever electronics. The waitresses in this area were dressed in high-class suits, looking like English gentlemen. They carried trays with wide glasses, serving spirits and wine to the gamblers.
This was obviously a high-class room for betters who wanted to place more than two-dollar chips on the table. We wove around the roulette wheels and passed the poker dealers, coming to a stop behind the black jack tables.
“Be discreet,” Bruno spat in my ear.
I ignored him, looking up at Sal, who gave me a nod. I stepped forward and peered over the table, smiling at the lady beside me. She was obviously with her man. I could see the shiny ring on her fourth finger. I wondered if they’d just gotten engaged.
Memories of Scott’s proposal to Piper pierced me.
There didn’t seem to be the slightest chance that I’d ever be her bridesmaid now. The thought was depressing enough to buckle my knees again, but I gripped the back of the high stools and managed to control my limbs.
I shifted toward the man Santiago wanted me to check out. He sat looking smug with several high stacks of chips beside him. People were starting to gather, impressed by his winning streak. I narrowed my gaze and noticed it straight away.
Oh yeah, he was cheating. The look of jittery triumph was unmistakable on his exposed face. His fingers tapped the table nervously, sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. He wanted to keep playing, but he knew the danger increased with each hand. His eyes darted to the chips beside him, doing a quick calculation.
“Another round, sir? You wouldn’t want to give up this winning streak, would you?”
Everyone laughed at the dealer’s cheerful wink and smile.
The man nodded with a grin.
The dealer rolled his shoulders and dealt a fresh hand. I watched the winner carefully as he studied his cards. The dealer dealt for himself and then the winner tapped the table for his next card. He now had sixteen. He looked to the dealer as if trying to decide what to do, but with all masks off, I saw it clear as day.
The dealer. He was in on it, too.
His expression was a mixture of sweaty guilt and smug triumph.
I stepped back and whispered to Sal, “When does that dealer take a break?”
Bruno leaned toward the conversation. “What?”
I shifted my shoulders, hating the way his chest pressed against my back.
“I said, ‘When does the dealer take a break?’”
Bruno checked his watch. “It is usually one hour on, twenty minutes off.”
“Has this dealer been on the entire time?”
Bruno frowned, stepping back and pulling out his phone. He made a call and five minutes later he was back in my ear. In that time the crowd had cheered twice, the winner dragging even more chips into his possession.
“He’s had two breaks and is due for another in five minutes.”
“When he took those breaks, did the man playing the table leave as well?”
Bruno’s eyes narrowed. “You think the dealer is cheating?”
“I know he is. I can see it on his face.”
“They are in on it together?”
I turned to look at Bruno, hating the black expression taking over his features. I didn’t want to nod. What would it mean for those two men? My insides shuddered.
I glanced back at the table, biting my lips together. If I denied what I saw, I’d be the one in hot water. I had to tell Bruno the truth, even if it meant something nasty for the cheaters.
I closed my eyes and nodded.
Bruno’s jaw clenched tight and he yanked out his phone. “Send security down here. As soon as the dealer leaves for his break, I want him brought to the downstairs offices...and have security pick up the guy in the pale jacket when he cashes in his chips.”
“Why don’t you just take them both now?”
Bruno scowled at me then looked to Sal. “Take her back upstairs.” He gritted his teeth. “She’s passed this test.”
The look of icy disappointment made my skin crawl. I may have saved his family some cash, but he wanted me to screw up so bad I could taste it.
In spite of my guilt at no doubt sentencing these cheaters to some sort of pain or even possibly death, I couldn’t help the light-headed relief of being Bruno-free for one more day.
Sal tugged on my arm and led me back to the elevator another way. We ended up walking a full circle, past the poker rooms for high-end bidders, to another double doorway entitled Siete. Sal explained in his gruff mumble that it represented the seven deadly sins. It was a gourmet restaurant. The very idea made my stomach turn.
Finally, we walked through another casino area featuring roulette, black jack and poker tables, plus a big wheel of fortune. The area was colorful and fun, more like a circus, and it didn’t take long to figure out it was designed for the patrons who were here to have a little Vegas-style entertainment.
The sign on that archway was the only one in English - The Devil’s Playground.
I found it the easiest area to be in and could imagine that it was the type of place Piper, Scott, Eric and I would have come to. I spotted a four-door entrance as we passed by and strained to see as someone walked in from the street. I saw the road and maybe the fountains? The Devil’s Playground was obviously the main entrance for the casino. It was tempting to make a run for it, but Sal held my elbow with a tight grip and I knew I’d never make it. He’d catch me, and Santiago would no doubt count that as a failed test.
I shivered.
The elevator dinged open and Sal guided me inside. Once the doors closed, I looked at him. “Why didn’t you and Bruno arrest that man and dealer at the table? I thought it would have been a good warning for others not to cheat.”
“Mr. Gomez wants patrons to think we reward the winners. He wants them to keep coming back and giving him their money.”
I nodded. I guessed that made sense. The house always wins. Wasn’t that the saying?
I was grateful that the elevator took us to the penthouse suite; I didn’t want to go back to the security room and face Santiago again. Exhaustion rested heavy on my shoulders. Although I was still functioning at a high level of stress, there was no more adrenaline left and the effects were taking their toll. A soft bed in a dark, undisturbed room sounded more than appealing. I needed oblivion, a short escape before waking up to the nightmare once more.
We reached the penthouse and Sal led me into the living area. He called something in Spanish and a waitress came running. She stopped
beside me and gave a little bow.
“Um.” I looked to Sal.
“Tell her what you want to drink and she will get it for you.”
“Oh, um...coffee? With milk and sugar, please.”
The waitress nodded with a little bob and scuttled off.
An awkward silence settled over the room. I fidgeted with my fingers, nibbling on my thumbnail while Sal slowly walked the perimeter of the room with his hands clasped behind his back. He looked like a Marine, standing watch, and I found it more than unnerving.
My coffee arrived and I practically sculled it back, burning my tongue. Once that was gone, I had nothing left to do but bob my knees and wait. In spite of the caffeine boost, my eyelids grew heavy and my head was starting to loll to the side when the elevator dinged open and Santiago strode into the room.
He saw me on the couch and clapped his hands together, eliciting a booming laugh. “Well, my dear, it took a little persuasion, but they eventually confessed.”
I shifted on the soft couch. “What do you mean a little persuasion?”
He shrugged, his lips twitching. “You do not need the details.”
“Why didn’t you ask me to be there? I could have told you the truth without you having to hurt anybody.”
He tipped his head to the side as if only considering this for the first time. A slow smile eased over his broad lips and he wagged his finger at me, silently nodding.
I slumped back against the couch, annoyed that he hadn’t thought of it. Those men may have been cheating, but they didn’t deserve to be tortured for information.
“What are you going to do with them?”
Santiago studied me carefully. “They will not be returning to my casino.”
His mask slipped away when he said the words and I saw he meant more than what he was saying. Those men wouldn’t be returning, because they wouldn’t be able to...ever. My face crumpled as I read the truth. Their deaths hurt. I felt like I’d been the lawyer who lost their case and Santiago was an evil judge with a penchant for the electric chair.
Poker Face Page 5