Burn for You

by Jillian Leeson

  He disappears through the doorway while Flat Face steps backward with the knife in his outstretched fist. I stomp after him to the door. “Hey, what are you going to do with me? I’m worth nothing when I’m dead!”

  But before I can block it with my foot, the door slams into my face. Rattling the knob, I kick it, and kick it again. Scrubbing my hand over my face, I spin around and slide down my back.

  My brain is still reeling from everything Michael’s told me.

  Is it true what he said? That Elle couldn’t come up with the money? How the hell is that possible? For the majority of people one million dollars may be a lot of money, but not for me. Elle could have called the office for help, and Alex, or my PA, would have referred her to my bank accounts in Hong Kong. She could easily have made a cash withdrawal.

  It just doesn’t make sense. Michael must have placed some restrictions on her so she couldn’t get hold of the money in time. I’m sure she’d do anything to save me; there’s no other explanation.

  Thinking back to Michael’s words, something he said resonates in my mind: “No more excuses.”

  That’s what Jake, my personal trainer, used to say to me when I canceled training sessions due to work commitments.

  I sigh. My past, carefree life seems so far away. A life where we’ve had some great times—Jake, Alex and I. After enduring his grueling weekday workout sessions, we let off steam on the weekend—drinking and talking about inane guy stuff like fast ways of getting girls laid. Jake always kept telling us about powders and implements to enhance his sex life.

  My breath hitches as a realization slams into my chest. The vial I found in that room—I remember why it sounded familiar. Jake mentioned it as part of one of his sexual escapades: Sildenafil is another name for Viagra.

  The vial must have contained the liquid form.

  A chill travels along my spine. Now I understand why I felt so horny when they sent Meifen into my room—they must have administered Viagra to me somehow. Was is something I ate? Or drank?

  Then it hits me: it must have been the orange juice. It was spiked with the stuff; that also explains the headaches and nausea I was experiencing.

  An odd sense of relief washes over me. All this while I thought it was my fault. I felt like my body was betraying me, betraying Elle. Only now I know for sure it was a chemical that led me to react this way.

  Yet it puzzles me why Michael has gone to so much trouble to do this to me. Did he want Elle to fail? It seemed like he was trying to prove a point to me—that she doesn’t love me as much as I’d like to think. I was right: the motivation behind this abduction must be revenge. Michael’s motivation is clearly not financial, considering the mere one million he requested.

  No, he’s not interested in the money—he wants to break me.

  He wants to destroy my life and everything I hold dear: Elle, my fortune, and who knows, my business. And he wants me to witness it—to suffer. That’s why he hasn’t killed me yet. The fact that he and his accomplices didn’t disguise themselves in any way signifies to me how it will end, how I will end: dead.

  My throat tightens. What am I going to do now? I’m not going to sit here and wait for Michael to decide my fate. At this point, I don’t have anything to lose. No one is going to rescue me. No one is there to help me but myself.

  Eyes closed, I pinch the bridge of my nose. I can’t believe I didn’t escape when I had the chance. What was I thinking? Did I really think I could be some superhero and save Meifen and her non-existing baby from those assholes?

  Even if I had managed to escape, it doesn’t mean I would have made it. Nevertheless, I would have had a chance. A chance that I should have taken while I could. I wonder if it’s true what Michael said—that we’re only a mile away from the nearest village.

  I shake my head. There’s no point in looking back. Besides, I still believe I’ve made the right decision. A successful escape may have put Elle in danger, and that’s something I’ll never allow to happen. Regardless of what she thinks of me now, I’ll do anything for her. If I ever get out of here alive, I’ll make her understand. I’ll make it up to her. I’ll never, ever give up.

  And that’s when I make up my mind: I have to do whatever I can to get out of here.

  What are my options? I could wait till the door opens and try to overpower Flat Face, which is unlikely to happen. But who am I kidding? There are no options. Only one way out of here: the window.

  I push away from the door and cross the room. It’s easy to rip off the bottom slat again, and after pushing open the window, I look out into the empty courtyard. It is quiet, but in daylight, it’s a huge risk to venture outside. Anyone could be looking through the windows, although all the curtains seem to be drawn. But what choice do I have? I’ll just have to be extra careful.

  The next slat up is fastly secured, and I use the bottom slat as a lever to yank it off. I remove one more before the opening is big enough for me to slip through. With the wooden slats on a pile on the floor, I am about to step out when I remember the door. If I barricade it, it could save me a few minutes. I try to push the wooden cabinet in front of the door, but it doesn’t budge an inch—it weighs a ton. The chair will have to do. I manage to wedge its back below the door knob before I rush back to the window and bend myself through the opening.

  Pressing my back against the wall, I creep sideways toward the door at the other end of the concrete courtyard. Despite the humid heat, cold pearls of sweat are rolling down my back. The door comes within my reach. Please, let it be unlocked.

  My heart pounding, I push down the handle.

  And—the door opens. Thank God.

  I’m in a dim hallway, extending to the left and right. Stepping inside, I decide to turn right. If I’m right, and the rooms are built around this courtyard, then I should end up at the same outside door I had the chance to escape through.

  I stride to the end of the hall, my eyes on the doors. None of them look like the door I’m looking for. Until I reach the end, where the hallway bends to the right. There it is, on my left: the door to freedom.

  Unable to suppress a grin, I turn the lock anti-clockwise and let it click before I hold down the handle and shove the door open. This time, the hot wind feels like a welcome breeze, and the rice stalks sway to me in a beckoning gesture. Scanning around me, I take a few steps forward. The rice fields look like the best option—I’ll be able to crouch and hide if they come after me.

  Bang!

  I spin around. It was the door slamming shut behind me. Damn. I have to run before they’ll find me missing from my room.

  Turning back, I break into a run, taking the largest strides I can. Just a few more steps, and I’ve reached the rice fields. Inhaling deep breaths, I can almost taste my freedom.

  I’m about to take my first step into the field when I hear a yell behind me.

  “Stop!”

  A glance backwards stops me dead in my tracks.

  “Not a good idea, Mr De Luca. Unless you want to get shot.”

  Chapter 13

  Elle

  “Let me get this straight. You want me to rescue your friend who’s been kidnapped. But you haven’t the faintest idea where he is.”

  Lance crosses his arms, and I nod.

  “I think a Chinese triad must have taken him. I know the name of the restaurant they abducted him from. Maybe it has triad connections.” I tap my chin with my finger. “And of course, the casino. When the security guy took me into the back room, I met one of the kidnappers. He must be working there or be linked to the casino somehow.”

  I tell him everything I know about Ryder’s abduction, from the first moment I knew he was taken, to the encounter I had with Slick Hair. For some reason I do not mention the video, dismissing it as irrelevant.

  “Is that all you know?” Lance arches his brow. “You have virtually nothing to go on.”

  “That’s why I need you. You seem like a guy who can get things done.” I smile at him, in the
hope that flattery will get him interested enough to hear me out. He’s all I got now. I’d call Alex in New York, but it will take time to get anything organized. And I have a strong feeling that time is of the essence.

  Running his hand through his hair, he says, “Maybe I am. But I don’t know if I can help you.”

  “I know you can. You have local contacts. You can ask around and point me in the right direction.”

  “I suppose I could. But no matter how much I like you, tell me why I should. Even if I decide to help, I could be putting my life at risk if I don’t know who I’m up against.”

  “If you manage to free him, my friend will pay you.” I step close enough to whisper in his ear, “A substantial amount.”

  His brows shoot up. “Oh really? I don’t know if he’ll be able to afford me.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that. He’ll pay.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Lance reaches into his pocket. “What’s your friend’s name?”

  “Ryder. Ryder De Luca.”

  “L-U-C-A?”

  When I nod, he starts googling him on his cell phone. I know there’s not much to find about Ryder on the Internet, but Lance will get the most important information: his ability to cough up whatever crazy amount he’d demand.

  As expected, he grins at me when he puts his cell away. “Well, well. CEO of a billion-dollar fund management firm.” He whistles through his teeth. “Looks like he’ll pay up. But what I’m curious about, who is he to you?”

  Swallowing, I avert my gaze. I’d only know the answer to that question after I see Ryder again.

  “I told you, he’s a friend.”

  I feel his gaze skimming my body. “You mean, boyfriend, lover?”

  “Something like that.”

  When my answer meets with silence, I return my gaze to find him looking up in thought. “Okay. I’ll help you. But on one condition.”

  My heart jolts. “What’s that?”

  “If I get him out, he pays me fifty million US dollars.”

  “Done.”

  I let out a breath of relief. I don’t think twice about agreeing to that insane amount. It’s Ryder’s life that may be at stake.

  Smiling, I extend my hand. Lance takes it, but refuses to shake it.

  “One more thing,” he says, with a wicked gleam in his eye. “This could be a massive waste of my time. I need some kind of assurance that it’s going to be worth my while.”

  “I have casino chips.” I let go of his hand to take off my shoes and upend them on an empty table nearby. To the pile I add the tokens I retrieve from my bra.

  Watching me in amusement, Lance points at the small mound. “Is that it?” He shakes his head. “That won’t do it for me.”

  “It’s all I have right now. I can get more money from the bank. But I’ll have to go back to Hong Kong.”

  Lance places his hand on my arm. “I have a better idea. Why don’t we play one hand of blackjack, just you and me? If you win, I’ll help you find your friend.”

  “And if I lose?”

  “I’ll still help you. But—you also have to promise me something.”

  He slides his finger down my arm. “You’ll agree to work for me. Even if I’m unsuccessful in finding your friend.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I take a step back. “Work for you? To do what?”

  Lance grins, and I raise my hands. “I just want to make it clear to you, I’m not selling my body.”

  Tipping his head back, he lets out a laugh. “I never said you had to do that. I promise, it’s nothing sexual. Just business.”

  Doubts creep into my mind—is Lance the right guy to help me find Ryder? Can I—should I—trust him? Who knows what shady plans he has in store for me, even if he claims it’s all ‘business’? If I’d ever have to work for Lance, Ryder would be livid. I’ve turned him down so many times for working with him, all because I’ve wanted to keep my independence—the same reason I refused to move in.

  Thinking back, my worries and concerns seem so trivial compared to what I’ve had to deal with in the past twenty-four hours: abduction, ransoms, triads, not to speak of the ensuing lies and deceit. Why should I worry about what Ryder would think? If I find out the video was real, he would be just as bad as the criminals who took him. No—even worse.

  I rub my temples, in an attempt to suppress an impending headache. I really don’t know who to trust any more.

  Awaiting my response, Lance fixes his gaze on me. It remains unwavering, even when the sleeveless T-shirt who threw Buzz Cut out of the joint approaches him and whispers in his ear. Beside them, a bald, tattoo-sleeved guy lights a cigarette.

  I have no idea what Lance does, what business he is in. Considering the ease with which he mingles around here, it is probably not one that is aboveboard. But as I witness their exchange, I know he is the right guy for the job—I can feel it in my gut.

  It is as if Lance notices I’ve made my decision, for he raises his eyebrows at me.

  Nodding, I let out a sigh. “Okay. One hand.”

  His face lights up, and after a short exchange with Sleeveless Shirt, he leads me deeper into the gaming room, all the way to the back. He offers me a chair at a square, felt topped table before he seats himself opposite me.

  “Cards.” Sleeveless Shirt hands him a deck of cards, and he performs a deft shuffle.

  When he is finished, I stretch out my hand. “Let me check it.”

  Lance tilts his head. “Why? You don’t trust me?”

  “I don’t trust anyone.” I grab the cards from him, examining each on both sides to check for any anomalies. I have no clue what I’m looking for, but I don’t want him to discover how much of a rookie I am.

  I give a tight nod, shuffle the cards again, and hand them back to him. Lance performs a final shuffle before he places the deck face down on the table.

  He makes a flourish of his hand. “Ladies first.”

  I nod while I remove the top card and place it on the green felt in front of me. My fingers stick to the card as I flip it over: a king.

  It’s a great start. Relief settles in my stomach.

  “Good card.” Grinning, Lance slides a card off the pile and flips it. A six.

  Hope blossoms in my chest. I’m definitely at an advantage here. I’ve hardly seen anyone win with a low card like that. Even if he gets a ten next, chances are he will exceed twenty-one with a third card—a bust.

  My heart starts racing. If I can get at least another ten, I’ll have a good chance of winning. My hand briefly rests on top of the deck as I pray for a ten or an ace. I take the card off and place it on the felt.

  I flip it.

  And it’s a ten. Yes!

  I can’t suppress a grin from ear to ear, and Lance looks at me, a scowl replacing his earlier grin.

  “You seem to have luck on your side all night.”

  “It sure looks like it,” I say, unable to hide the smugness I feel.

  “Let’s see what fate has in store for me.” Lance takes a card and flips it.

  A nine, making his total fifteen. To beat me, he’d need another six—chances of that are slim. He takes another card, and unbelievably, it turns out to be a five. That means we’re even at twenty points.

  Only one card can make him win—an ace. With all other cards he will exceed twenty-one; thus lose. I smile to myself. Lance is right, I’ve been lucky all night. I’m pretty sure I will be again.

  “The moment of truth,” Lance says, his surprisingly steady hand reaching out to the deck.

  I smirk at him. “Good luck.”

  In one fluid motion, he grabs a card, flips it, and hurls it on the table. It lands right in front of me.

  I blink, and blink again.

  An ace of hearts.

  He has twenty-one—I lose.

  How the hell is this possible? Stunned, I stare ahead, my brain unable to accept that he’s won. What were the chances? Did he cheat somehow?

  Lance’s voice, dripping with a smoot
h arrogance, jolts me back into alertness. “Well, well, well. That was surprising, to say the least. Fate is obviously on my side. You’re fated to work for me.”

  I shake my head. “Not now. We’ll deal with that later. Now we have to find Ryder.” I rise to my feet. “We’ll have to move fast. His life is on the line.”

  Lance pulls his cell out of his pocket. “You have any idea which triad has taken him?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m sure the abduction of a foreigner won’t go unnoticed. The kidnappers speak good English. They probably studied overseas.”

  “That’s not enough. I need more information. If you know which triad, then I can use my contacts to locate them.”

  “I have no idea. But why don’t you just ask around?” I point at his cell phone.

  “I’ll try.”

  As Lance is on the phone, facing away from me and speaking some Chinese dialect I don’t understand, I sink back in the chair. I rack my brain for any clues that could help him identify the triad. If it’s a triad, that is—for all I know, jealous business rivals from the US could have arranged his kidnapping.

  After what seems like an eternity, Lance lowers the phone, but his expression doesn’t bode well.

  “Nothing. No one’s heard of a foreigner being taken.”

  My heart sinks. I was convinced his shady contacts could lead us to Ryder. Perhaps he is not as well-connected as I had assumed.

  “How about the restaurant? And the casino? Surely they have links with the triads.”

  He shakes his head. “Sorry.”

  How is that possible—a Chinese casino without any triad connections?

  Lance looks away, and a realization dawns on me. What if he never intended to help me? What if he always intended me to work for him? Have I been played?

  Shoving away my chair, causing it to clatter backwards, I step toward him, my finger pointing between his eyes. “You know what? I don’t believe you. I think you’re full of shit.”

  Angry sparks fly from his eyes. “Whoa. That’s not the tone you should use to your boss. I believe an apology is in order.”

  I flip him off. “Apology my ass. You promised to help me. Try harder.”