Poker Face

by Melissa Pearl

  “Got it,” I muttered, not loving the idea but figuring it was better than nothing.

  Dad rustled around in his bag, pulling out a pair of rectangular glasses. He slipped them on and it surprised me how that one little change made him look so different. Mussing up his hair, he scooped a little hair gel onto his finger and adjusted the style. Checking it out in the mirror, he did a few more tweaks and walked back toward me looking about ten years younger than he was.

  With a small grin, he slapped me on the back. “Remember, just two tourists, checking out the nightlife.”

  I nodded, following Dad out of the room. If only it were that simple.

  21

  Caitlyn

  It was Tuesday night and once again I was dressed in finery and being escorted out of the Palacio del Diablo. Monique and Gabriel had totally covered for me on Friday and her expert dressing had covered up all my scrapes and bruises beautifully. As far as I knew, and from what I could read on faces, Santiago and Bruno remained unaware of my escape attempt.

  I was dressed in a ruby and gold gown that hugged my figure like a glove. Once again, I had to suffer a plunging neckline, but the sheer full-length-sleeves hid the yellowing bruise on my shoulder and the scabs on my elbows. The skirt of the dress hung to the floor, much to my relief. My banged-up shin and grazed knees remained in hiding...hopefully until they healed, which was getting close. My stubbed toe throbbed inside my pointy gold shoes, but I’d take it. Better safe than...buried alive next to some desolate shack in the desert.

  I owed Monique and Gabriel my life and wished I could make it up to them somehow, but all three of us were locked in this lavish prison. Escape seemed like a pipe dream.

  Sal towered beside me as he led me onto the casino floor. The place was humming, the night bringing out the crazy in people. I guessed the alcohol helped, too.

  I ducked out of the way of one reveler and crashed into Bruno who was walking behind me. His hands caught me and then ran down to my hips, giving them a firm squeeze. I ordered my body not to react. Throughout the weekend I’d been obsessed with mastering my poker face, making sure Santiago didn’t sniff out my attempted jailbreak and giving Bruno nothing every time he tried to provoke me.

  Finding my feet, I moved out of Bruno’s reach and kept walking, my bland expression locked in place. My eyes scanned the floor as I walked. I had no idea where we were going; all I knew was that I had to suffer Bruno’s company, which was infinitely worse than Santiago’s.

  I guessed with the way I was dressed another high-stakes poker game was in my future. On Sunday, I’d had to run through my cheating code with Bruno. Santiago sat by, watching intently. It was a damn frustrating exercise with Bruno trying to change the moves and make them more intimate. What killed me more was that Santiago agreed, saying we couldn’t use the same moves in case someone noticed.

  “Won’t someone question the fact that I was cozying up to you on Friday and Bruno another night?” I’d relished my snide remark.

  But it’d been shot down by Santiago’s sick smile. “We like to share in this family.” He’d popped a grape in his mouth and wiggled his eyebrows while Bruno had sniggered beside me.

  I’d no response so I sucked in my breath, pulled my mouth into a straight line and continued with the session.

  Well, it turned out Santiago had no intention of sharing me publicly, which was why two nights later, I walked in between Bruno and Sal wearing a long black wig. The bangs hung low over my eyebrows, making my eyes a vibrant blue. The fake eyelashes Monique had attached helped with that, too. I felt like Cleopatra.

  I ran through the moves Bruno and I had settled on as we exited the casino. A cool wind whipped over my body, making me shiver. This clothing was so not suited for a Las Vegas winter. Wrapping my arms around myself, I turned right and headed for the cross sign.

  And that’s when I saw him.

  He was ambling down the sidewalk with a man I didn’t recognize and I had to look twice to make sure I wasn’t imagining something. But I knew Eric’s gait anywhere. I’d watched him walk toward me so many times I had every contour and muscle of his body memorized.

  A beanie hid his luscious locks and he was wearing these shades that looked a little space-age. His hands were shoved in his pockets and his shoulders were slightly hunched. He looked tired. He hadn’t shaved in a few days; his long stubble was turning into a beard that didn’t suit him.

  I stopped, my lips parting as I soaked him in.

  “Come.” Bruno pulled my arms away from my body and tugged at my hand, threading his fingers through mine as he jerked me to the crossing.

  I tried not to flinch as Eric brushed straight past me. His eyes caught mine for the briefest moment, but he didn’t recognize me. He scanned my dress, surprised by the plunging neckline, but he didn’t take the time to admire my body. He wasn’t the least bit interested in some skinny woman, dressed like a high-class escort, with jet-black hair.

  I glanced over my shoulder, watching him stride away. The urge to yank my hand free and chase after him was so overpowering I nearly gave into it. Thankfully, my mind leap-frogged over my insanity, quickly playing out a string of harrowing consequences. All of them ended in the desert.

  Instead, my wooden body clipped along beside Bruno and down the road. We paused at one more set of lights and I stole another peek over my shoulder, but Eric was gone. The loss pierced me like a stake through the heart. I could have touched him, reached out my hand and pulled myself into his arms.

  Tears began to sting. I sniffed at them, screaming at myself to not give anything away. We crossed the next street and entered the Cosmopolitan Casino. It was all glitter and glam. We passed the 1920s-style car— silver and sparkling. It was like entering a Great Gatsby set or something. Huge chandeliers hung from the ceiling with shimmering white strings of beads draping down like fabric. It was quite enchanting.

  I gazed up at the glossy interior, my lips parting in awe.

  Bruno yanked on my arm. “Don’t look like you’ve never seen wealth before,” he whispered.

  It was a sharp slap in the face.

  I recaptured my poker expression, allowing myself a very small smile when our host approached us. He had a George Clooney essence about him, all style and class with beautifully maintained salt and pepper hair. He kissed my knuckles before leading us to the elevator, where we ascended to the fourth floor and then entered a flashy casino room. This was my third one in five days and I was already getting over them. Filled with antique furniture and wall paintings that were probably worth more than my parents’ house, they were basically a statement to the world that these pompous men were wealthy pricks.

  I recognized a couple of men from Friday night’s game, turning my face away when they glanced at me, before remembering that I looked like a completely different person.

  My mind darted back to Eric, the way his eyes had brushed over me, not even a flicker of recognition.

  What was he doing in Las Vegas?

  And who was that guy he was with?

  Did he know I was here? Had he come to find me?

  Hope soared, bursting through me like a jubilant fireworks display. Nerves followed quickly in its wake. Eric couldn’t be here. What if he bumped into Marchant?

  Bile surged up my throat, my head spinning as black dots stunted my vision. I gripped Bruno’s hand, and he shot me a quick scowl. Jolted into submission by his dark look, I swallowed down my anxiety, straightening my back and putting on the show he wanted me to.

  I couldn’t make a mistake.

  Bruno took a seat at the table, and after a few shallow pleasantries the cards were dealt. I tried to watch the game and concentrate, I swear I did, but I couldn’t focus. My vision kept blurring with images of Eric. Fear for his safety skittered through me, but coursing behind those nightmare images were the fantasies of a foolish girl who pictured Eric climbing my tower and rescuing me.

  My fingers jittered on Bruno’s shoulders, I pinched at his c
ollar and ran my fingers through his hair as I tried to release some of my pent-up tension while still playing the part of a besotted girlfriend. My poker face was in play; I could tell by the way no one looked twice at my restlessness. Masks fell revealing nothing new to me. I saw the triumphant glee of the man opposite us and suddenly realized I’d just screwed up big-time.

  “Mierda!” Bruno muttered, flicking his cards to the dealer.

  I flinched. It hadn’t taken me long to figure out his harsh Spanish whisper meant shit. Bruno said it all the time, but not usually with this much venom. I looked down at the table, watching a large pile of chips being scraped away from him. He glanced up at me, a lascivious smile on his lips. He was going for enamored, I could tell he wanted to show the room I was his beautiful prize for the night, but he couldn’t pull it off. Beneath his mask, steam was coming out of his ears, anger pulsing from him, mixed with salacious triumph.

  I wanted to freak out, fall to my knees and beg him not to tell Santiago, but that wouldn’t work. He wanted me to mess up. I may have just cost the sicko beside me a few hundred grand, but I’d also gained him an unwilling bed buddy.

  I was such an idiot. Picturing Eric on some damn white steed? I’d just sentenced myself to the worst night of my life!

  My eyes flicked back to the table, desperately scanning chips and reading faces. I was too late. Bruno had been betting big, misinterpreting my mindless anxiety as code. He only had enough left for one round and I had two choices: bring him back from the dead, which could potentially look highly suspicious, or sell a sweet story to Santiago that just might save my life.

  I let Bruno lose the next round.

  He fired out of his chair, bowing politely before snatching my arm and storming out of the room. I tripped over my heels as we hurried through the door. Sal caught my other arm and steadied me, easily keeping up with Bruno’s quick pace.

  We charged back to Santiago’s casino, terror coursing through me in sickening waves. If I couldn’t sell my lies, it wouldn’t matter if Eric found me or not...because I was a dead girl.

  22

  Eric

  I didn’t know what it was about the girl in red and gold, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  Dad and I walked as far as The Venetian before turning back to the hotel. Our amble through the streets seemed kind of aimless and only made me jittery. It didn’t take Dad long to pick up on my vibe.

  “Let’s head back.”

  “Yeah.” I shrugged with a sigh. “I guess so.”

  My eyes scanned the streets as we walked past groups of giggling girls, scantily clad couples with their arms around each other, women dressed in bikinis with large feathers sprouting out of their shameless costumes. I couldn’t count the amount of cards with topless women that were thrust at me. It was sick but I took them, checking to make sure Caity wasn’t on any of them before I threw them away.

  I don’t know what I would have done if I had seen her. The thought of Caity being forced to do something that degrading made me want to kill something. She’d given herself to me willingly. It had been sweet and perfect—pure. We’d only ever had each other, and the thought of another man violating her... I ground my teeth together, pulling in a few sharp breaths.

  Two girls in tight shorts and barely-there tank tops swayed past us, their eyes lingering up my body in appreciation. I wrinkled my nose at them. I didn’t want fake and plastic. I wanted real, soulful, genuine. I wanted Caity.

  That was why I’d barely flinched when we walked passed the black-haired girl in the sparkly dress. She was pretty and everything, with a body much like Caity’s, but she wasn’t my girl and therefore I wasn’t interested.

  It actually bugged me that I kept thinking about her.

  Shoving my hands into my pockets, I scowled, annoyed that I found myself looking for her as we walked back to the hotel. I’d only given her the briefest glance, but something in her eyes caught me. I’d turned away from it quickly, not wanting to feel that pull of attraction. I was a one-woman man and I’d stay that way until the day I died.

  I just hoped I found Caity before that happened.

  It was pretty late when we got back to the motel room. We didn’t bother talking, both feeling like our street walk had been a wasted trip. We’d lingered outside of the Palacio del Diablo for a little bit, but Dad hadn’t wanted to go in. Instead he scanned exit routes along The Strip, pointing out good streets to duck down if we were on the run.

  “If you hide there for a minute.” He’d pointed. “That would score you enough time to double-back.”

  I’d listened, only half-interested in his prattle.

  Dropping onto the bed, I let out a tired groan, my feet dangling mid-air. I didn’t think sleep would come easily, but my body was begging for it. My eyes were scratchy, my head pounding. Morning would arrive soon enough and then we could get on with finding Caity. If I wanted to get there any faster, I needed to sleep.

  I closed my eyes and swam toward the blackness, begging it to take me. Much to my dismay, it did, but the figure swimming toward me through my murky dreams was not the blonde beauty I’d fallen in love with, but a girl with raven hair and blue eyes like the ocean.

  23

  Caitlyn

  Bruno hauled me out of the elevator and threw me across the penthouse floor. I fell down the two short steps, rolling in a heap on the carpet. Sal bent forward to help me up.

  “Leave her!” Bruno’s bellowing words drew the attention of the entire suite.

  Stomping down the stairs, he jerked my arm and dragged me up, his fist rocketing into my belly. I slumped back to the floor, gasping sobs shaking me as I held my stomach and curled into a ball.

  “You failed.” He bent over me, his spittle landing on my cheek. “You hear that?” Brushing back the hair covering my face, he knelt on me, digging his knee into my thigh and whispering into my ear, “And now you’re mine.”

  “Bruno, get off her,” Santiago clipped.

  Cold-fear laced through me as Bruno remained on top of me, his long fingers running over my shoulder and grabbing a fistful of fabric.

  “Bruno! Apagado!” Santiago boomed.

  With a reluctant huff, Bruno stood, placing his foot on my hip. “She’s mine, Uncle. She lost me three hundred thousand at that poker game. She failed.”

  I looked up from the floor, eyeing Santiago carefully. His lips twitched, his mask falling to show me his deep disappointment. He didn’t want Bruno to have me. He wanted to keep using me.

  I had to make this work.

  Rising up on my elbow, I kept my eyes on Santiago. “You have to let me explain.”

  “Shut up!” Bruno’s fist rocked into my cheek.

  It was like a cannonball. I gasped, a whimper breaking through my shock.

  “Stop it, you fool! Not the face! She’s no good to us bloodied and bruised.” Santiago strode over to us, flicking Bruno’s foot off my hip and helping me stand.

  Holding both my arms with an iron grip, he shook me until I was looking at him. I blinked at the tears threatening to fall, trying to pull a poker face that wasn’t interested in appearing.

  “Explain, my dear, and do it quickly.”

  I swallowed. “I didn’t fail you tonight.”

  “I lost my money!” Bruno flicked his hand in the air.

  “We were caught. I couldn’t let him win.”

  “What?” Santiago’s word was a gunshot, silencing the room.

  Bruno went still, his eyes narrowing.

  Breathing in, I scrambled for the lie I’d conjured on my terrifying walk from one casino to the other. “There was a man at the table. He was watching us closely. I know I was disguised tonight, but something in his gaze was suspicious.”

  “I saw nothing like that,” Bruno spat.

  “I wasn’t looking at masked faces the way you were.” I tried to keep my voice firm and even. “I picked up on it within the first few hands. He wouldn’t stop watching me, my hands. I had to start adap
ting my movements. I had to let you lose or you would have been caught and lost a lot more than just your money.”

  Bruno didn’t believe me. His face told me everything. He didn’t want to believe me. He was hungry for my flesh.

  I looked away from his lusty expression and stared at Santiago. “Please, I was only trying to protect him. I couldn’t have said anything there.”

  “You could have whispered in my ear!” Bruno continued to seethe.

  “That would have just given us away!” I argued back.

  “Callate! Both of you.”

  I figured Santiago had said something like ‘shut up’, because Bruno pressed his lips together and glared at his uncle’s back.

  Santiago gave me nothing. Both masked and unmasked expressions showed indecision, disbelief.

  My lips trembled as I awaited his verdict. He was either going to throw me to Bruno or give me one more night of peace.

  “I want to believe you.” He let me go and I sagged against the table behind me. “But you still lost my family a lot of money tonight.”

  I swallowed, knowing his fist was coming before it hit me. I doubled over, the punch feeling like a baseball bat to my ribcage. I couldn’t contain my sob; my body shook as I cradled my aching side.

  “You saved Bruno’s reputation and for that, I will let you sleep alone. But do not forget, Carlotta, that I do not give out idle threats. If you are no use to me, Bruno can have you and when he’s done, we’ll sell you on.” He pulled my hair, yanking the wig off.

  I cried out as the pins holding it in place ripped at my scalp.