by Vivien Sparx
And he could use the money….
If he won.
But The Dom wasn’t just inviting Stone to play cards.
It was much more than an invitation – it was a challenge, and a dare.
Stone had walked into the lion’s den. Now he was being taunted into playing a deadly game where the stakes could be life or death.
“I can spare an hour,” he said. “But can you wait an hour to get the diary?”
The Dom smiled. “Well as long as you’re here playing cards, you can’t be talking to the authorities, can you?” He was suddenly calm and urbane, as smooth as a snake, his voice oily with charm. He turned to one of the women standing meek and passive behind him.
“Get a chair, and some more poker chips,” he snapped.
Nineteen.
The Dom had been the big winner during the evening, and as Stone settled himself across the green baize he did some quick calculations.
The older guy at his elbow with the thinning grey hair had lost heavily. He was maybe down to his last thousand, and the guy with his jacket hung over the back of his chair was not faring any better. Both of the men were sullen and irritated.
The big dark guy on Stone’s right was still in the game. He had a neat mound of chips in front of him, stacked in careful towers, and an intense hawk-like gaze as he watched the Dom deal the next hand of cards.
But it was the Dom who was dominating the game. He had a careless scattered pile of plastic chips spread across the cloth like a smorgasbord of money, and his air was casual and lazy with confidence as the first cards went skidding across the cloth to each of the players.
“You’ve got $5,000 in chips, Mr. Stone,” the Dom muttered. “Consider it a down payment on the purchase price of that diary you are blackmailing me with.”
Stone looked down at the plastic counters before him. The pile was meager and he glanced again at the spread of plastic chips in front of the Dom. By his calculation the man was holding almost $60,000.
Stone picked up his cards. Fanned them out and held them low against his chest.
Almost immediately the Dom started to crowd the game, using his winnings to beat down challenges and intimidate the men around him who could not compete with the size of his bets. At every opportunity he doubled the stakes, and then doubled again, forcing the old guy on Stone’s left to throw in his hand early.
The Dom smiled. There was a cigar clamped between his teeth and he puffed contentedly as he glanced from player to player, sending a long blue tendril of smoke swirling towards the ceiling.
“Joe?” he turned to the guy with his coat draped over the back of his chair. “What are you going to do? The bet is a thousand.”
The guy leaned back on the legs of his chair and sighed. The tie around his neck felt like a noose. He tugged the knot down lower and glanced furtively at his cards. Then he sighed and threw them down.
“Out.”
The Dom nodded heavily, like the man had made a wise decision. Then he flicked his eyes to the dark brooding man on Stone’s right.
“Sal?” The big guy matched the bet, peeling the chips with elaborate care from his pile and placing them into the center of the table. The Dom raised an eyebrow, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. Then he turned and stared across the table at Stone.
The Dom had been a gambler all his life, betting high stakes in every thing he did. He knew men. He knew how to read their bodies and their eyes. He knew when a man was scared, and when a man was confident. He knew when a man was taking a risk, and when a man was holding all the Aces.
Jack Stone was scared.
The Dom could see it in his eyes – could see it in the way Stone sat with his shoulders hunched, and the way he held his cards. He could see it in Stone’s expression. His face was suddenly pale, and there was a slight tremor in his hands. His eyes were darting and he could not meet the Dom’s steady gaze. Stone lowered his head for a moment as if he were considering the risk of a thousand dollars – and balking at taking such a chance.
In a way the Dom was disappointed. Stone threw in his cards and muttered softly, “Out.”
After another thirty minutes, the Dom had driven the older man and the guy in his shirtsleeves from the table. Then there was only Stone, the Dom and the big brooding dark guy on Stone’s right.
Stone glanced down at his dwindling pile of counters. Beside him the big guy had also lost, taking risks on poor cards, trying to challenge the Dom’s control of the game. It didn’t work. At every opportunity the Dom had used his winnings to increase the stakes and shut down challenging hands.
Finally the big man scraped back his chair and stood, hunched under the low chandelier. “That’s me for the night, I am afraid. I’ve lost about all I can afford.”
The Dom looked up, smiled. He took the cigar from his mouth and examined the tip. He crushed the butt into an ashtray and reached into his jacket pocket for a slim square tin. From it he selected a fresh cigar and lit it with exaggerated care. He took his time. The room stayed silent. When he was satisfied the cigar was drawing evenly, he smiled up through the blue smoky haze and then nodded sympathetically. He snapped his fingers and one of the dark-haired submissives came to the edge of the table.
“Cash in Sal’s chips for him,” the Dom said. “And then take him to one of the other rooms. He looks tense, and I want you to relax him in any way he wishes.”
The girl nodded, her face blank and completely impassive. The Dom smiled up at the big man. “My gift to you,” he said benevolently.
The girl led the man away, disappearing through a door that Stone had not noticed before. It was discreetly built into one of the side walls of the room, camouflaged as a part of the timber paneling.
The Dom waited until the room was quiet again. He stared across the table at Stone, and then glanced down at the few chips Stone had remaining.
“Have you had enough?” the Dom asked, with an enigmatic half-smile.
Stone dragged the back of his hand across his brow. He was sweating, and his body seemed tight with tensely drawn nerves. He blinked, and shifted in his seat. “Maybe just a couple more hands,” Stone said. His voice faltered.
The Dom smiled. “Of course. Maybe we could up the stakes just a little. If you wish I would be happy to advance you another $10,000. You only have a few hundred left.”
Stone nodded jerkily, not trusting his voice. The blonde haired submissive brought extra chips to the table and set them down in front of Stone. He began to stack them into small towers but his hand was shaking. The chips scattered across the cloth and Stone hunched miserably, as the Dom began to deal a new hand.
Three times the deal failed to produce an opening hand, and then finally, the Dom said confidently, “It’s open – for five hundred dollars.”
Stone seemed to flinch. He paused for a long moment, his eyes downcast on his cards. Then he nodded with a curt jerk of his head and threw a handful of counters into the middle of the table.
At his shoulder the blonde submissive woman gave a small gasp.
Stone threw in one card, clutching the remaining four close to his chest, holding them tightly. The Dom threw in two cards and picked up the deck to deal replacements.
Then he paused thoughtfully.
“It just occurred to me, Stone, that we might wager something more substantial – if you’re man enough.”
Stone’s eyes flickered from his cards. “Such as?”
“How about all the money you have left?” The Dom asked smoothly. “One hand. Winner takes all.”
Stone looked from the Dom’s face to the huge array of colored counters spread across his side of the table.
Stone flinched. He glanced back down at his cards and his breath seemed to catch in his throat.
He had thrown out a single card, and it was obvious that he was looking for a missing piece to either a straight or a flush. The Dom was holding three Queens.
“I… I..” Stone started, then his voice falter
ed. The silence in the room was crushing, heavy as an anvil. Long seconds passed. Stone stared back down at his cards.
“If it’s too much for you…” the Dom taunted him. “I will understand. Not all men are cut out for the challenge of risking high stakes, or taking brave chances.”
Stone was too distracted to even read the mocking tone of the Dom’s voice, or register the cutting slash of his challenge. He stared down at his cards fixedly for a long time, and then finally shrugged. He nodded.
“I’m in,” he said. He pushed the chips into the center of the table and the Dom casually counted out ten thousand dollars from his own winnings and tossed them into the pot.
Then he dealt the final cards.
“Double again.” the Dom asked casually.
Stone looked up in sudden alarm. “What?”
“I am doubling the bet, Mr. Stone – as is my prerogative as the player who opened the game. It is my right to double a wager before new cards are taken. That’s what I’m doing.”
Stone looked anxious – on the verge of panic. “But I can’t match a doubled bet. There’s twenty thousand in the pot. I have nothing else I can stake.”
The Dom raised his eyebrows. “Half the diary,” he said. “You put up half of the Katrina Walker diary. If I win, I pay you twenty-five thousand – less what you have lost tonight.”
Stone grunted like he had been punched to the heart. “In other words, you pay ten grand.”
The Dom shrugged. “That sounds right to me.”
Stone glared across the table. The Dom was smiling smugly.
“Fine,” Stone said.
The Dom threw another ten thousand dollars worth of plastic counters onto the table and then reached for the two replacement cards he had dealt himself.
For a long time Stone didn’t dare to pick up the card that was waiting for him face-down on the table. The Dom watched him carefully. He had dealt himself a seven and a three – no help to his three Queens. He laid his cards down on the table in front of him and lit another cigar.
“Take your time, Mr. Stone,” he said airily.
Stone roused himself. He slid the waiting card across to the edge of the table and lifted one corner with his thumb. He was holding his breath. The Dom could see the tremor in Stone’s hands.
And then suddenly a transformation came over Stone’s face. His eyes widened and then narrowed. His gaze flicked up from the card and shot across the table. He was staring at the Dom, and suddenly he wasn’t sweating anymore.
Stone was smiling.
“There’s a lot of money in the pot,” Stone said.
The Dom nodded. He was suddenly wary. “About thirty thousand in cash, and the right to half of Katrina Walker’s diary.”
Stone nodded. He stared down at the table for a long moment, and then across at the remaining counters in front of where the Dom sat.
“Double it,” Stone said. “Right now. He reached into his pocket and threw the travel log onto the table as a gesture. The whole diary. It’s yours. Match it with the rest of the money you are holding. If you’re man enough.”
For long seconds the two men stared at each other. The transformation in Stone’s body and presence was miraculous. It was as if he had grown in size and bulk. It was as if he had suddenly come alive. He brimmed with barely restrained confidence.
Finally the Dom sighed. He glared at Stone and his eyes were suddenly hard and dangerous. “Not this time, Mr. Stone.” He threw down his hand. “It’s obvious that you have drawn the card you were looking for – and I have just three Queens. That won’t beat a straight or a flush, so I concede.”
Stone reached across and dragged thirty thousand dollars in chips towards him. He turned to the blonde woman. “Cash these, please.”
The woman looked to the Dom. He nodded sharply.
For long seconds there was just the sound of the woman exchanging the counters for cash while Stone and the Dom stared at each other. Finally Stone slipped the travel folder back into his pocket and pushed back his chair. Got to his feet.
“You’ve taken a lot of my money tonight, Stone.”
Stone nodded. “And you’re going to pay me a lot more when I bring back the diary.”
The Dom inclined his head. He didn’t like losing. It was something he was unaccustomed to, and it was a strain for him to remain gracious. “Indeed.”
Stone took the cash from the blonde woman and stuffed it into his pockets until they bulged. “I’ll be back in an hour. Have the extra hundred thousand waiting.”
The Dom inclined his head again. He was simmering with dark rage, but he kept his manner urbane and charming. “I will be waiting for you.”
Stone smiled. His cards were still laying flat on the table. He stared at the Dom for long seconds and then flipped them over.
There were five random cards, none in sequence or suit. Just five useless cards that amounted to absolutely nothing.
The Dom flinched, jolted with the shock.
“I play high stakes all the time,” Stone said calmly.
It took a few seconds for the Dom to recognize how carefully Stone had lured and deceived him. How Stone’s pretense of nervous uncertainty had all been the charade of a skilled gambler, and how Stone had bluffed him into discarding a winning hand and losing thirty thousand dollars.
The Dom smiled tightly, and there was a glitter of savage anger in his eyes as he stared down at the cards and realized how he had been outplayed.
“I underestimated you, Mr. Stone,” The Dom said tensely. Behind his rigid expression, anger was flaring like a fire.
Stone glared. “Yes you did.”
“I won’t make the same mistake again.”
Stone shook his head. “You won’t get the chance.”
He leaned over the table so his face was lit in highlights and shadows from the chandelier. He stared at the Dom and his eyes were black. “I’m going to get the diary,” he said again, “but before I go, answer me one question first.”
The Dom sat back in his chair and studied the glowing tip of his cigar thoughtfully. Then he looked hard at Stone. “If I can…”
“I know who you are – you’re a trafficker in women as sex slaves. You either trap them or trick them – and then you trade or sell them to other men. And I know you killed Katrina Walker – because she knew too much about what you were doing. But I want to know if you have ever seen this girl.”
He reached into his wallet and opened it. Inside the clear plastic window was a picture of his missing sister, Susan, who had disappeared three years ago.
“That’s my sister, Susan Stone. My family thought she was dead. We mourned her. Then one day someone saw her in a BDSM bar in Washington. She was on a leash and wearing a collar. She hadn’t died, she had been kidnapped and sold as a sex slave. I’m looking for her.”
The Dom looked at the photo but his expression never altered. He glanced back up at Stone. “So that’s why you’re in town. And that’s why you’re looking for Katrina Walker’s killer. You think there might be a connection.”
Stone nodded. “Is there?”
The Dom shook his head. “I can’t help you.”
The two men stared at each other for long seconds. Stone said nothing. Finally the Dom glanced away and tapped his cigar against the edge of a glass ashtray. His face was suddenly grim. “And I resent your accusations, Mr. Stone. You’re treading on very dangerous ground. Ordinary men have died for saying less.”
Stone didn’t flinch. “I’m not ordinary,” he said. “I thought you would have realized that by now.”
Twenty.
The blonde submissive led Stone silently through the concealed door, which opened into a passageway. There was a door on the left which was open. As they passed, Stone glanced into the room and saw the big dark man who had been at the card table. He was standing, one hand gripping the back of a chair, while the submissive who had been given to him by the Dom was on her knees. Her head bobbed quickly backwards and forwards as
she used her mouth to pleasure the man.
Stone walked on.
The blonde girl lead him to the end of the passage where another man stood waiting. The guy watched Stone approach. His body became more aware, like he was taking precautions. He changed his stance and pushed back his shoulders. He was wearing a suit, but it didn’t look right on him. He had the rough swarthy look of a thug. He was an inch or two shorter than Stone, with a scarred face and oily black hair and cunning eyes under thick eyebrows.
The woman stopped. The guard looked her up and down, leering at her. Stone stayed back a couple of paces.
The man stepped close to the girl and cupped one of her breasts in his hand. Then he lowered his head and sucked on her nipple. The woman didn’t move. Just kept staring past the guy. Stone saw him slide his free hand down inside the elastic band of her panties. The woman spread her legs. Kept her back erect, her eyes straight ahead. The man’s fingers slipped deep inside the woman’s sex. She gave a small gasp. The guard smiled knowingly.
“You want it, don’t you slut.”
The woman nodded. “Yes, sir. If it pleases you,” she answered, her voice a whisper of obedience.
“Oh, it does,” he said. “It always pleases me.”
He glanced past the girl’s shoulder at Stone. Dismissed him as no threat. He turned and unlocked a door. Held it open.
Stone walked out into the night. He was standing at the top of a narrow iron flight of stairs that lead down to a dark alley at the back of the club.
Behind him, Stone heard the door slam and then the turn of a single lock. He started down the stairs.
The alley was clogged with large industrial waste bins, smaller trash cans, and stacks of discarded timber crates. The still night air was thick with the stench of refuse. There were black plastic garbage bags piled haphazardly against cold brick walls and he heard the furtive scurry of rats.