by Tessa Layne
“Why? Because I’m going to hack your computer?” she says in a voice heavy with sarcasm. “This is about Vince, isn’t it?”she demands. “He’s trying to set up another game.”
I nod. “It’s for everyone’s protection.”
She crosses her arms. “When are you going to give them up?”
“The poker games? Never.” I’d be a fool to give them up. The money is too easy.
“But you don’t need the money.”
I let out a dry laugh. “I always need the money, sweetheart.” She more than anyone should understand that, given my financial responsibilities.
She glares. “How is this being a better man? She uses air quotes throwing my words back at me.
“This is business,” I grit. “Those guys are going to play anyway. So why not here? Where people know I enforce strict rules of conduct, and that I’ll expose their shit if they fuck with me.”
“Nice,” she sneers. “That whole honor among thieves goes a long way to making you a better man.”
“This game has nothing to do with us.”
“Doesn’t it?” She gives me a look that says she completely disagrees.
Heat races up my neck. “I’m not gonna justify myself to you or anyone else, sweetheart. If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to the door.”
“So you’d just kick me out?”
“Not out of my life, but if you don’t like the way I practice business, you’re welcome to work elsewhere.” I don’t like that choice, but she needs to understand that just because she shares my bed, she does not share my business.
“And what if you get caught?” Her voice catches. “Then what?”
“It’s a closed circle. No way I’m going to get caught. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do, and you have glasses to polish.” I hate putting her in her place like that, and I know there will be fallout later tonight once we get home, but we can talk about it then. I brush past her and shut the door behind me and turn the lock.
I walk straight to my desk and pull out the drawer where I keep her weapon. Sure enough, it’s there. I double check my laptop, and it looks untouched. I’m probably just being paranoid, I tell myself. Vince has me spooked. But as I pull open my laptop, instead of entering the information on Alex Descharmes, I start searching for articles related to Roxi’s sister. But it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.
I’ve refrained from searching thus far, wanting to give Roxi the benefit of the doubt, and I know how hard it is to talk about details relating to the tragedy of someone you love. But now? I’m driven to find out. I need to reassure myself that Roxi’s legit, that she hasn’t been playing me. I assume she’s close to my age, and all I know for sure was that she was college-age, and killed before Roxi turned eighteen. I enter a five-year search window… and come up empty handed. Although, I’m shocked at the number of unsolved murders still out there, and disgusted that most of them are female victims. Some are easy to rule out. Two where the bodies haven’t been found, one is African-American, another was an exchange student. I keep coming back to three of them — I grimace as I read through graphic details of these young women’s last moments, the memory of my mother’s screams of terror as fresh in my mind as if it were yesterday.
As I read the articles, clenching my fist and entertaining fantasies of vigilante revenge a la the Green Arrow, my chest fills with lead. Not only do none of the women look remotely like Roxi, none of them share any common details with the few details of her life she’s shared with me. My gut clenches. She can’t be lying. I refuse to believe it. She’s too genuine, and brutally honest when it comes to her feelings. I’m the one that hides shit, not her.
I decide on the spot that I’m going to ask her about this after the game tonight. I need to give her the opportunity to explain herself before I jump to conclusions. But I can’t help but wonder if I’ve been blinded by our chemistry, and if I have been, what next?
Chapter Eighteen
We give each other a wide berth the rest of the afternoon, which I also hate. Although I suppose it’s normal for couples to have disagreements. Hell, Anita and I shouted at each other weekly. Sometimes more.
Stockton strolls into the Den a little after nine-thirty, top button on his shirt open, tie loose. “You look like you’ve had a day.”
He scowls. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“What’s your poison tonight?”
“Something that will make me forget I woke up this morning.”
I wince. “That bad, huh?” I signal Roxi, who meets us by one of the wingbacks Stockton has sunk into. “Can you bring Stockton a tumbler of Pappy Van Winkle, no ice? Top shelf, far left.”
Her eyes flick between me and Stockton, and she nods once, and retreats to the bar without saying a word.
“Trouble in paradise?” Stockton asks.
“Nothing that won’t be fixed later with a little booze, a little talk—”
“And a lot of fucking,” Stockton supplies.
If only it were that easy. Roxi drops the drinks, keeping her eyes averted. I feel like there’s a knife lodged in my sternum, and it twists every time she looks away, or refuses to make eye-contact. Worst of all, I can tell I’ve upset her. Her easygoing smile that naturally draws everyone into her orbit is missing. Tonight, her mouth is pinched, and the corners are pulled down. Her eyes have lost their amused sparkle and she seems… resigned. I cast a glance in Stockton’s direction. He’s a million miles away, contemplating the amber liquid in his glass. “I’ll be right back.” He barely acknowledges me.
I make a beeline for the bar, and as soon as Roxi’s finished serving number sixty-four, a pro-basketball player from L. A., I wave a hand, grabbing her attention. I motion to the stockroom, and head there to wait. She follows shortly after. The look in her eye is unsettling. It’s a side of her I’ve never seen — determined, angry… worried. I take her into my arms. “Hey.”
“Hey.” She stays stiff.
Warning bells sound in my head. “Look, I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. I behaved… badly.” It takes a lot for me to admit that, because I feel like I’m the one who was wronged. But I can also see that I was a dick. I didn’t need to pull rank, and trot out accusations based on fear and not facts. She nods, which I guess means she’s accepted my apology. “We should talk tonight, after the poker game. You know, clear the air. But, I wanted you to know that everything’s okay. And if there’s something we need to address, let’s talk about it.”
She looks like she’s ready to burst into tears. “Roxi, sweetheart? What is it? Do you need to go home? I can take over and close up the front when it’s time for the poker game.”
She shakes her head vehemently. “I… I’m fine. I’m just, it’s just… I know people have disagreements, but this afternoon rattled me. I’ll be okay.” She forces a smile, and the knife in my chest twists hard, because she’s lying. She’s not fine, and I hate that she doesn’t trust me, trust us, enough to be honest with her feelings.
I smooth her hair from her face. “Look, whatever it is. We’ll figure it out, together, okay? I’m not going anywhere.” I drop a kiss on her temple. Her body vibrates with tension, but when I kiss her again, a shudder ripples through her and she lets out a heavy sigh. She nods, shoulders relaxing slightly. I’ll consider that a win and make a mental note to stop by our favorite late-night burger joint for the Big Whammy — bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a shake. Once we’ve had food, and a little naughty time, like Stockton suggested, we’ll be back to ourselves.
I follow Roxi out to the bar and help myself to a half-glass of the Pappy Van Winkle, and return to Stockton, dropping into the chair next to him. His glass is half-finished, and he’s looking slightly revived. He leans forward and speaks in a low voice. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he starts.
“Shoot.”
“I think Dmitri and Vince are exchanging more than just money at the poker table.”
I don’t believe that for a
second. With as much dirt as I have stashed away on the two of them, there’s no way they’d break the rules. But I’ll hear out Stockton, even if his ideas are completely far-fetched, bordering on paranoid. “What makes you think that?”
“Just a… a feeling.”
I scoff. “I don’t deal in feelings. It’s not my problem how you all decide to pay each other after the games. You know the rules.”
Stockton glares at me. “It is if they’re dealing in humans.”
Now he’s got my attention. He’s usually pretty mild-mannered, so the fact he’s shooting daggers at me and tightening his grip on his glass is significant. But still, I can’t believe Vince and Dmitri would risk their membership at the Den by breaking the rules. They saw what I did to Ivo. In spite of all that, I bite. “What makes you think it’s humans?” I swear, if they’ve been trafficking under my nose, I will cut them into tiny pieces and feed them to the fish in river. I’m a Pendergast for fuck’s sake, and I may not be proud of my family’s history, but I will not hesitate to bring down an asshole by any means necessary.
Stockton glances around and leans closer. “Last poker night, when you left the room to grab drinks, I overheard Dmitri telling Vince he’d pay him in real-estate.” He air-quotes real-estate.
My mouth twitches, and I double check the liquor in his glass. “Did you start drinking before you got here?
Stockton’s face darkens. “Fuck no.”
I can’t help the grin that pulls at my mouth. “You do know Dmitri’s a real-estate mogul, and Vince, among other things, develops properties. Why wouldn’t Dmitri pay him in real-estate?”
Stockton is clearly not satisfied. “I don’t know, man. Something about the whole exchange sounded off. I swear they were talking about people, not buildings or land.”
“Feelings are not facts. Bring me proof. Until then, you know the Whiskey Den motto — see no evil, hear no evil. That motto has saved your ass on a number of occasions,” I remind him after taking a sip.
But Stockton’s like a fucking terrier when he gets an idea in his head, and he won’t let this go. “You know you’re like a brother to me, man. But I think that’s a crap motto. And someday, it’s going to catch up with you. And I don’t want to be the one to bail you out of jail when it does.”
I flash Stockton a smile. “Someday doesn’t come if you always do things by the books and follow all the rules. You were the one who taught me that.”
“But your rules aren’t everyone else’s rules,” Stockton points out. “And that’s why I’m worried.”
Chapter Nineteen
I want a do-over. I want to wake up next to Roxi at the beginning of this day and do things differently. I want to not argue with Roxi, and I want to not give Stockton top-shelf whiskey when he’s clearly upset about something.
But in spite of my bravado, Stockton’s accusations have rattled me. If Vince and Dmitri are dealing in humans, I fucking want to know about it, because I will shut that shit down. I will boot them from the club so fast they won’t realize their kidneys are up by their throats, thanks to the kick up the ass I’ve given them.
There’s nothing to do but wait. I indulge in another half-tumbler of Pappy Van Winkle with Stockton. I typically refuse to drink at all on poker nights, but it’s been a rough day, and I’ve only had the equivalent of one glass over two hours. I’m plenty alert for any funny business.
Promptly at eleven, Vince, Dmitri, and their associate Alex walk in. I welcome them and send them to the bar for their first round. A few minutes later Robert Templeton joins us. “Since we’re all here, why don’t we get started early?” I offer. The earlier we start, the earlier we’ll be done, and the sooner Roxi and I can head home and commence making-up. I follow the men to the back room, and begin to set up the cards, like I always do, while the men make small-talk.
Just as the men begin to make their way to the back room, Oscar waves me to the door. “This guy, Moran, says he’s here for a meeting?”
Meeting is our code word for the game for anyone who’s not a member. “Moran?” It hits me, and I slap my forehead. “Fuck. Yeah. Let him in. Harrison made the call. He’s good.” Motherfucker. Yet another piece in today’s shit show. It’s happened before, and it’s not the end of the world, but it’s just one more reason I want this day to fucking end.
“It’s Robbie, right?” I extend my hand.
He nods, eyes scanning the room. “Harrison said Stockton would be here?”
I nod. “He’s already in back. Follow me.”
I enter the room and take my place at the far wall, just like I always do. “Gentleman, meet Robbie Moran, he’ll be joining us tonight.”
Vince scowls. “Who’s he? I set up this game and I sure as fuck didn’t invite him.”
“His money’s as good as yours, Vince. You have a problem?” My voice takes on a hard edge. I will not have Vincent fucking with me. Not tonight.
“Yeah. I didn’t invite him.”
“Well, I did, and it’s my house, my rules. Questions?” Vince looks like he wants to say a lot more, but he wisely keeps his mouth shut. I re-explain the buy in and the rules, and begin to shuffle.
Tonight, Alex sits to my left, Dmitri to my right. Next to Dmitri is Vince, Moran is next to Vince, and Templeton sits on the other side of the door next to Stockton. The first round is uneventful. Vince and Robbie duke it out until Robbie folds. It’s obvious this isn’t Robbie’s first game, and I make a mental note to ask Harrison more about him at a later date. He might be a good candidate to be Ivo’s replacement. Membership offers are not made lightly, and when a member leaves — for whatever reason, any replacement is thoroughly vetted, financially and personally.
I text Roxi to bring in a round of drinks. Normally, with this crew, I have no problem stepping out to grab drinks. But tonight, just like this entire day, feels off, and I don’t feel like giving Vince the benefit of the doubt, especially after what Stockton mentioned. Roxi comes in after I’ve dealt the first two cards, and the game is temporarily paused while she asks for drink orders. I hardly pay attention until I see Vince leering at her out of the corner of my eye. Literally salivating while he’s staring at her tits.
I’ve fucking had it. “Eyes on your cards, Ferrari,” I snap.
As if in slow motion, Vince’s head swivels my direction. His lip curls. “And what if I don’t?”
I spread my arms, and speak as evenly as I can, given that I want to rip this motherfucker’s face off. “My house, my rules. If you can’t keep your eyes on your cards, I’ll ban your ass.”
“I don’t think you want to do that,” Vince says with a hint of a threat in his voice.
“And I don’t think you want to threaten me.” The room goes still, and the other players exchange glances.
Vince’s eyes narrow to glittering points. I can see now, why people are afraid of him. But I’m not. I faced down meaner as a sixteen-year-old in my first knife fight, Vince can’t touch me. “Ban me, and I’ll make sure my associates ruin you.”
Stockton throws down his cards. “Like hell you will.”
I rise and turn on Stockton. “You. Sit. This is my fight.” I turn back to Vince. “The only reason I’m not kicking your ass out now is that I don’t need the headache of returning funds from an interrupted game. Threaten me again and you’re out. Capisci?” I’m dead calm. If he tried to start a fight right now, I’d have no problem snapping his neck.
Roxi re-enters with a tray full of drinks, takes one look and stops, worry on her face. “Everything okay, gentlemen? I can come back.”
In the next instant, all hell breaks loose. A black figure appears at the door with a rifle. “FBI, everyone on the floor.” As that happens, all six men push back from the table. Robbie attempts to dive under the table, bumping into Roxi in the process and spilling the drink from her hand. Dmitri stands and attempts to flip the table, unaware that it’s solid mahogany. I shout as I see Dmitri grab Roxi and take her down. SWAT team has swarmed the
room and a flare goes off with a bang, the brilliant white light casting everything into sharp relief before smoke fills the room. It’s Roxi’s scream that pulls everything back from slow-motion. “Roxi,” I shout. “Are you okay?” I’m being wrestled to the floor, hands yanked behind my back. “Roxi,” I shout again, but it’s too loud. Everyone is screaming, shouting profanities, yelling in pain. I can’t see from the burning in my eyes, and I swear it’s gone black. There’s a knee, or the butt of a rifle pressing so hard into the center of my back, I think my spine might snap. I hear people being dragged out one by one, and I keep calling for Roxi until I’m hoarse.
When I’m finally jerked to my feet, I gasp at the amount of smoke in the air. I’m pulled down the hall, and too late, I think of my laptop. At least it’s encrypted, but somehow I don’t think that’s going to be a challenge for this group. I’m blinded by bright lights as I’m hauled into the bar, there have got to be thirty or more Feds swarming the room, pulling down ceiling panels, pulling open drawers, stuffing anything they can find into evidence bags. “Hey, be careful with that,” I shout at one person behind the bar who’s manhandling vintage stemware. That earns me another hard jerk as I’m propelled toward the door. Oscar is nowhere in sight, and neither are any of the men from the game. “Roxi?” I yell again. “Roxi, where are you? Are you okay? Are you hurt? She’s innocent,” I shout at someone walking by wearing latex gloves. Fuck, I never should have let her work here. I should have listened to her, or Stockton about the game. I should have listened to my instincts. I should have called the game. I should have booted Vince. The litany in my head goes on, and on, and on. Everything in my whole life I should have done differently, that I didn’t, and now it’s jeopardized the woman I love.