Ashes

by Aleatha Romig

  I looked down to arrange my chips.

  “And Ms. Miller…” he said, his Texas drawl thicker than usual.

  My neck stiffened as I turned his way. “Mr. Elliott, it’s so nice to see you again.”

  “I believe after the tournament we have a few items to discuss.”

  “Oh,” I said, “I’m sorry, I will need to reschedule. My husband is waiting.”

  Julius’s eyes widened. Once the dealer arrived, Julius whispered, “Is it safe to sit between you and a jaded lover? I’m asking for Edward. He may need to take cover.”

  “He’s not a jaded lover.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Elizabeth announced to the room, “it is time for play to begin. May I remind you that Boston Club is a safe zone—no pictures, and phones must be kept silenced and out of sight.”

  Our dealer was the same woman I’d had Thursday night. While I still didn’t know if she was cold in her scant clothing, she was very proficient in her handling of the cards. After the ceremonial cutting of the deck, she dealt our first hand.

  Edward won the first hand with a heart flush. The next hand went to Julius after hitting an inside straight. We wouldn’t have known that it was inside if he hadn’t been so willing to share. The next hand was dealt.

  Slowly I turned my cards. 8, 5, 7, 5, 9.

  It was my turn to take the chance and try for an inside straight or keep the fives and take three new cards. I lowered my cards to the table and scanned my opponents. The ante had been ten thousand. It was Marion’s turn to start the bidding.

  “Twenty-five thousand,” he said, pushing in his chips.

  I reminded myself that I’d won a hand the first night of the tournament with an ace, jack high. A pair of fives could easily be a winning hand. Then again, it might not. Thankfully, I had the chips to lose until I won.

  “Call,” I said, casting my $25,000 in chips into the pot, pulling the 8, 7, and 9 away, and accepting three new cards.

  Since no one had raised, it was Marion’s turn again to bet. I had noted he’d only taken one card. “Twenty-five thousand,” he said, his blue eyes zeroed in on me.

  Casually, I placed my new cards in my hand and began looking: 6.

  Shit.

  A six would have given me an inside straight.

  I fanned the remaining cards: 6, 5, 5, 5.

  Willing my cheeks not to move, I pushed $25,000 in chips forward and added another $10,000. “I see your twenty-five and raise you ten.”

  Julius called.

  Grant Walters folded.

  It was Marion’s turn.

  “You did see that I took only one card,” he said pointedly to me. “If you were confident in your hand, you would raise more than ten.” He counted out his chips, gathering $100,000. “I see your measly $10,000 raise and raise you another ninety.”

  Edward Bellows folded his hand.

  It was my turn.

  “Save your money, little lady,” Marion said condescendingly. “Sit on back and let us men show you how it’s done.”

  I turned to the dealer, pushing out another $90,000 in chips. “Someone needs to keep him honest.”

  Julius nodded. “I’ll let you keep that job.” He folded.

  The dealer turned to Marion. “Mr. Elliott, you have been called.”

  He laid his hand faceup. K, K, J, J, and 10.

  Everyone turned to me.

  “Well, thank you for the education,” I said. I’d been wrong in assuming he was bluffing. He had a winning hand, just not winning enough. I turned my cards. “Full house.”

  The room erupted in muffled applause.

  Back and forth the play went. Slowly the number of participants dwindled. Julius was the first to leave and then Mr. Walters. Our time limit was approaching when Marion won a hand with both black aces and black eights. As he pulled in his chips, Mr. Bellows nodded. “That’s a dead man’s hand.”

  “Superstition,” Marion said dismissively.

  The next hand was dealt.

  I fanned my cards: K, K, 8, K, and K.

  Four kings.

  It was the hand I had when I lost to Patrick at the tournament in Chicago. I looked up at my two opponents. What were the chances that either of these men could beat the third-highest-ranked hand in poker?

  Yes, technically, four aces would beat me and also a straight flush or the elusive royal flush.

  “Ms. Miller,” the dealer said, “$25,000 to move on.”

  I pushed the $25,000 forward.

  “Cards?” the dealer asked from player to player.

  Marion took two and Bellows one.

  “Ms. Miller?”

  “I’m good, thank you.”

  The room around us seemed to be growing restless. I wasn’t certain if it was about our play or something else. My mind had to stay on the game.

  “I think we need to move this night right along,” Bellows said as he pushed all his earnings into the center of the table. “All in, lady and gentleman.”

  Fuck.

  This was Chicago all over again.

  And yet I couldn’t fold on four kings.

  I pushed my chips forward. “I will call.”

  Marion smiled. “Déjà vu, Mrs. Kelly. Congratulations, by the way, on your marriage. I call.” He pushed his chips forward

  I nodded.

  “Mr. Bellows, everyone has called your bet,” the dealer said.

  With the tension high, I looked around, surprised to see the spectators looking at their phones and whispering.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Elizabeth’s voice came over the speakers. “Need I remind you that there is to be no communication from outside this room? Please put down your phones while play is in progress.”

  “Mr. Bellows,” the dealer repeated a little louder.

  With a grin, he turned his cards: J, J, J, J, and an A.

  “Four jacks and an ace,” the dealer announced.

  Yes, he had a good hand.

  I was next.

  K, K, K, K, and an 8.

  “Ms. Miller with four kings, ladies and gentlemen,” the dealer said.

  The room was growing louder.

  We all turned to Marion.

  “Well, son of a bitch.” He threw his cards upon the table, facedown. “I don’t need to show you.”

  “Ms. Miller is—”

  Marion stood and turned toward the gallery. “I’m ready for some entertainment. It’s too bad we won’t see—”

  Everyone had their phones out as the volume of the room continued to rise.

  If I hadn’t been avoiding Andros, I might have seen what was coming next.

  “You fucking animal.”

  I knew his deep voice. I recognized the accent.

  I spun in my seat as Andros stood and leveled the barrel of his gun at Marion.

  My mind couldn’t react as the bullet rang out. People around me screamed and scrambled as the armed guards pulled their guns.

  From out of nowhere, a large muscular body pulled me from my chair, landing on top of me.

  “Patrick?” I asked, my voice muffled by the bulk over me. Turning my head, my eyes quickly shut. As chaos erupted around us and men shouted orders, my stomach reeled.

  I couldn’t unsee.

  On the floor beyond the chairs was Marion Elliott, a single gunshot in the middle of his forehead as blood and splatter pooled around him.

  “What’s happening?”

  “Madeline...” It was Andros speaking above the mayhem. The rest of his sentence was in Russian. For our son and Ruby…

  What?

  A new round of shots rained above, much like a pack of firecrackers lit on the Fourth of July. Rapid fire vibrated the room.

  I closed my eyes as the solid body kept me from moving.

  Screams.

  The scraping of chair and table legs.

  More screams.

  And then silence.

  Nothing.

  My ears rang from within.

  I couldn’t move. />
  Finally, the body above mine shifted, reaching for my cheeks, his vibrant blue eyes shining down. “Are you all right?” Patrick asked.

  I couldn’t process as my pulse raced and my skin cooled. “What happened?”

  Patrick lifted his head, taking inventory of the room where voices could now be heard.

  When he helped me to my feet, I stood motionless as pandemonium swirled in slow motion in every direction. My attention went to the center of the storm.

  Tears refused to fall as I made sense of the surroundings. My safe place within the fire was no longer a haven. The fire had won, covering the ruins of what I’d known like snowflakes made of soot and ash.

  My gaze scanned the crowd.

  Despite the ricochet of firepower, it appeared only two individuals had fallen, succumbing to their death.

  Marion Elliott.

  Andros Ivanov.

  The guards sent to protect the money, the ones who had turned fire on Andros, were now attempting to turn confusion to calm.

  My eyes moved across the room. Relief came at seeing Sterling and Mason talking to Sasha as Patrick grasped my hand.

  My gaze went back to Andros.

  Unlike Marion who was shot once, Andros’s body was riddled with multiple shots.

  Turning, I buried my face in Patrick’s chest as his arms surrounded me.

  “You’re safe.”

  I looked up. “Why did this happen this way?”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Patrick said.

  My face turned from side to side. “But…police?”

  Patrick turned to one of the guards. With a nod, the guard allowed us to approach the doors.

  Elizabeth touched my arm, causing me to turn. “Ms. Miller, the winnings are yours.”

  I nodded. “It can wait.”

  “Mr. Kelly,” one of the guards said, “I recommend you go to the back entrance. The front is surrounded by reporters. Word got out that Mr. Elliott was here.”

  “Why would reporters care about Marion?” I asked as Patrick whisked me away.

  Patrick

  “Tell me what happened,” Madeline demanded as I hurried her into the back seat of a waiting car.

  Beyond the windows, people filled the streets, making driving difficult.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Kelly,” Christian said.

  The windows were dark, giving us a safe distance from the crowds. “Christian, just get us to the hotel. I don’t care if it takes an hour.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I reached for Madeline’s hand as her stunned expression turned my way. “That wasn’t…it wasn’t the way it was supposed to go down.”

  “I don’t understand why Andros would…kill Marion in a crowded room.”

  Letting out a long breath, I shook my head. “He called out to you. What did he say?”

  New tears came to her eyes. “He said it was for Ruby.” Her head fell forward, her chin to her chest.

  I reached for her chin. “For Ruby?”

  She nodded as she swallowed. “And our son.”

  “Your son?”

  What son?

  This wasn’t something that came out during her purge.

  “We don’t really know that the baby was a boy. I was pregnant. It was a long time ago. I was stabbed.”

  “Stabbed?”

  She sighed. “I wanted the baby. I would never not want a baby. It’s how I knew Andros would kill even his second-in-command. I don’t understand why, but I was set up. Andros was out of town.” Her head shook. “A man named Adrik…Andros shot him in front of me.”

  “Maddie.”

  “Though the doctor couldn’t diagnose the reason, I’ve never been able to become pregnant again.”

  Fucking hell.

  Wrapping my arm around her shoulder, I pulled Madeline to my side. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Are you?”

  Our eyes met. “Of course I am. I can’t imagine your pain.”

  “I wanted another man’s child.”

  “You wanted a child that was part of you. Would you love me less if when we reunited I had other children?”

  Shaking her head, she laid it back on my shoulder. “Patrick, my life has been so fucked up.”

  “Madeline, you have survived. It may have been fucked up, but through it all you’re here and so is Ruby. I think that makes you fucking amazing, and that adjective can’t be used unless there have been some fucked-up parts along the way.” I held her against me. When she didn’t speak, I added, “We learned something about Elliott a few days ago.”

  “What?” Her voice was far away.

  “He didn’t tell you everything about his wife’s and daughter’s deaths.”

  Her face turned upward. “What do you mean?”

  “Prior to his wife and daughter’s plane crash, his wife filed a restraining order.”

  Madeline moved away, sitting up and turning my way. “A restraining order for what?”

  “Sexual abuse…” I paused, wondering how much more trauma Madeline could take. “…of their fourteen-year-old daughter.”

  Madeline’s eyes opened wider. “Ruby.”

  I nodded. “We think he bought you to get near Ruby.”

  She fidgeted against the seatbelt. “Oh my God. I never suspected.” Her paling complexion turned my way. “Andros sold…”

  “He probably didn’t know. Reid dug extra deep. Elliott had it all buried.”

  “Eloise…oh my God.” She looked out the window and continued, “Eloise, his housekeeper, was welcoming and too nice. She was excited for Ruby to arrive at the ranch. She’s been with him…” Her words trailed away.

  “We also have reason to believe he attended more auctions at McFadden’s than yours. He may have even bought others.”

  “Where are they? What happened to them?”

  I reached for her hands. “Madeline, with his death we will probably never know. I hate to give Ivanov any credit, but you are here and Ruby is in Chicago because of him. Do I hate him with every fiber of my being for what he put you through? Yes. And I know he told you you’d hate him, and you did, but the news about Elliott went viral toward the end of the tournament. We leaked it purposely.”

  “Purposely?”

  “Yes, Madeline. It was your idea, saying that today one tweet could go viral. We did it for you. Our plan wasn’t to eliminate Elliott, just reduce his power.”

  “Andros did it—eliminated him.”

  “He did. Maybe he saw the writing on the wall. Perhaps he knew his power was dwindling, and he was in his last days.”

  “Maybe,” she said, “there was more than just a part of him that was good, a part he never wanted to admit, that part that saved me and Ruby...”

  “I guess that’s up to you and Ruby to decide in how you want to remember him.”

  Sighing, she leaned back against me. My hand ran over the soft skin of her shoulder as the light, sweet aroma of her perfume settled around us.

  “It’s all right,” I finally said as the car began to pick up speed.

  “What?” she asked.

  “To remember him fondly. Seventeen years is a long time.”

  “I’m so tired.”

  “I think we forgot about something.”

  Again, she looked up. “What did we forget?”

  “Your winnings. You won it all. You kicked their asses.”

  “I only wanted to win to shove the money in Marion’s face.”

  “We’ll add it to your nest egg.”

  “Or maybe Araneae can use it for the institute?”

  My phone within my suit coat vibrated. Madeline sat up as I pulled it from the interior pocket. The text message was from Sparrow.

  * * *

  CHECK OUT THE ATTACHMENT. FUCKER’S LUCKY HE’S DEAD.

  * * *

  I clicked on the attachment.

  “Shit.”

  Madeline

  I changed into soft pants and a camisole covered by a plush hotel robe as Patrick communi
cated with Sterling, Mason, and Reid. While I wanted to know what they were talking about and what happened after we left, my mind was back in Chicago, contemplating my future talk with Ruby.

  Would she already know?

  Damn, if she didn’t, she would soon, the way she kept her face in the tablet she’d been given.

  Closing the bedroom door, I found my new phone and taking a deep breath, hit the icon to call Ruby.

  After three rings, she answered. Her voice was groggy.

  Shit.

  What time was it?

  “Mom, are you all right?”

  “I’m sorry, Ruby, were you sleeping?”

  “Yeah, but what is it?” There was a pause. “It’s not Patrick, is it?”

  “No, honey. We’re all good, Sterling, Mason, Patrick, and me. We’re fine.”

  “You scared me,” she said. “You don’t usually call.”

  “Oh, hey, I won.” The excitement was missing from my tone.

  “You did?” Ruby’s tone lightened. “That’s great. Why don’t you sound happier?”

  “Honey, I called because something happened tonight.”

  “What?”

  “There was this man I met before. You may have seen his name in the poker circuit, Marion Elliott.”

  “Yeah, and Mr. Hillman mentioned him the day he…” Her words trailed away.

  I nodded. “Yes, Mr. Hillman and Andros both knew him. Andros never knew about Patrick. It seemed recently that Mr. Elliott was interested in us, you and me, and Andros made a deal.”

  “With people? Mom, he can’t do that.”

  I scoffed. “You’re right, it shouldn’t be done. None of it worked because Patrick found us. Anyway, there were some bad things about Mr. Elliott that I believe even Andros didn’t know.”

  “How bad?”

  “Very, and Andros learned about them tonight. It is apparently on many news outlets. I guess I wanted you to hear it from me. Andros took care of Mr. Elliott so he wouldn’t be a threat to us.” I couldn’t tell her the full truth. I worked her entire life to keep her unaware of monsters. I wasn’t going to change now.

  “Took care of? Like Patrick took care of Mr. Hillman?”

  “Yes, the same way. The problem was that Andros did it in front of many people and also armed guards.”