What had she seen?
What was she doing in order to keep her friends safe?
She hadn’t told any of us. She broke her promise not to lie to me, but she must have had a good reason.
I pictured her face; it swam through my mind, flashing me images of her from the moment I first saw her to the day she ran away. Her blue eyes shone, her cute smile was always given like a special gift just for me. I felt her in my arms again, the look in her eye after we’d made love, the way she ran her fingers through my hair...and then that sudden change. I forced myself to relive that moment she ran away, and suddenly that look of malaise I thought I’d seen turned into something different. She hadn’t been annoyed about me trying to win her back. Damn it! She’d been scared.
I had to call her. I had to make sure she was okay. I patted my running shorts, realizing I didn’t bring my phone with me. Where the hell was it?
“Shit! My car!”
“What, son?” Gramps spun to face me.
“I gotta get back.”
“What’s going on?”
“Caity. You’re right, she wouldn’t just leave me for no good reason, and her whole needing space bullshit was just that...bullshit.”
“What do you think’s going on?”
“I don’t know, but it must be something pretty huge if she was willing to hurt me like that.”
“I told you it wasn’t her style.” His lips tipped with a small grin.
I stopped and pointed at him. “Can we talk about Dad later?”
“You go get your girl back first. Then we can talk for as long as you like.”
I squeezed his shoulder. “Thanks, Gramps.”
He nodded, knowing how much I meant it.
There were no words after that, we just turned on our heels and sped back to the car as fast as we could. With each step and slide down that hill, my turmoil grew. Caity was in trouble, I just knew it, and I had to get to her.
Chapter 40
Caitlyn
Thanksgiving lunch was impossible to eat. I nibbled at my turkey and played with my sweet potatoes. I managed half of my pumpkin pie before placing the silver fork down on my plate.
“You are not hungry today?” Mendez eyed me carefully.
I gave him a closed-mouth smile and patted my stomach. “I’m not feeling very well.”
It was an easy lie to buy into. I’m sure my skin was sallow, my eyes dull. I’d put makeup on this morning to try and hide my fear, but it didn’t really work. I felt sick, down to my very core. Kaplan and her men couldn’t get here fast enough and I still had the ordeal with Miguel to endure. I had no idea what I was expected to do. I assumed he wanted me to use my eyesight to win him more money at poker.
I cleared my throat. “I don’t mean to be rude, but would it be okay if I went to lie down?”
“But you’ll miss the football.” Quella pouted.
“I’m sorry.” My smile was tight as she reminded me once again how immature and self-absorbed she was.
She huffed, giving a little shrug and looking away from me. She was still pissed with her father’s change of plans; I didn’t have to read her to see that.
Mendez gave me a kind smile. “You go and rest. I will send up someone to check on you soon.”
“No, that’s okay.” I waved my hand in the air. “I just need to sleep.”
His mask slipped and I noticed his eyes narrow. He was trying to figure out if I was lying or not. I forced a shaky smile - not hard to do in my current state - and left the room. Miguel was at the door, his intense stare searing through me as I walked past him.
My feet were filled with lead, making it difficult to ascend the stairs. I clutched the marble railing, trying to stay calm and not let my imagination destroy all common sense. I had absolutely no one to help me. Miguel had stolen any chance of communication with my rescuers. The only hope I could cling to was the fact they’d be busting in here later in the day.
I closed my eyes, praying Mendez’s meeting was sooner rather than later.
By the time I reached my room, I genuinely felt like throwing up. Bile surged up my throat when I entered and saw the gold sequined dress lying on the bed. On the floor were a pair of stiletto heels. Miguel obviously didn’t know me that well if he thought I could pull this off.
I was so dead.
My lips quivered as I neared the bed, my body fighting me each step of the way. I slowly stripped off my clothes, dropping them on the floor. Collecting up the shiny dress, I stepped into it and pulled it over my hips. It was a snug fit; I had to lose my bra and struggled to get the zipper done up. Walking to the mirror, I examined myself. I looked like a freaking James Bond bimbo. I slid my hand down the skin-tight dress. It hugged my curves until just below my hips then opened up into a slight flare. The material draped on the floor at my feet. I poked my leg out of the high split and grimaced. This was ridiculous. I needed a name like Pussy Galore in this stupid thing.
Running my fingers through my hair, I piled it high and looked both ways in the mirror. If I was going to pull this off, I had better go the whole way. I stepped into the bathroom and opened up my makeup kit, applying another layer of foundation and fattening up my eyelashes with some more mascara. I pinned my hair up, letting a few loose curls roam free and put on the sparkling jewelry Miguel left for me.
I had to say, by the time I was done, I looked pretty glamorous.
My lips quirked with a small grin.
The shoes were the next challenge. I slipped them on and teetered across the room, getting in as much practice as I could before someone knocked on my door.
“Who is it?”
“Miguel.”
I tottered over and let him in. He closed the door behind him and eyed me up and down.
“I suppose that will have to do.” He nodded.
Snatching my arm, he pulled me towards the adjoining door and through Quella’s room. In the back corner, attached to the wall, was a full-length mirror. Miguel pulled it away to reveal a narrow doorway.
I frowned and Miguel looked smug as he yanked me into the passageway. Stopping to open up the flashlight app on his phone, he led us down a set of narrow stairs into what looked like a panic room.
“Mendez and his paranoia,” Miguel muttered a quick explanation.
I stood in the middle of the padded room while he moved to the heavy, black door on the other side and punched in a code. It grumbled open to reveal a much larger passageway. This one was more like the tunnel leading down to the girls, the walls roughly hacked.
He grabbed my arm again and pulled me along until we reached a garage. Two black cars that looked like the kind royalty were transported in sat side by side. Miguel shoved me towards one of them.
“Get in.” He unhooked the key from the wall and beeped it open for me.
I slid into the passenger seat and settled myself into the plush leather.
A garage door whirred up and Miguel reversed onto a large, round disc, which spun the car around by ninety degrees. We then entered a dark, narrow tunnel. About five minutes later, we popped out into the sunshine and Miguel accelerated down a dirt road. I looked out the back window, trying to figure out where we had exited the house from, but all I could see was a rocky wall that looked like the side of a mountain.
“It’s the east exit. The tunnel pops out two miles from the house, so we use this when we want to sneak away.”
I swallowed, shuffling back around to face out the front. “Which one did Quella and I come in the other day?”
“The west.”
“Are there any others?”
“The buyers come in through the south.” Miguel kept his eyes on the road, missing the shudder running down my spine.
“What time are they coming today?”
He glanced at me. “Even if I tell you, you will have no way of contacting your outside party.”
“They said they’re watching the traffic anyway.” I winced, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut.
I still didn’t trust him. The man had eyes like a snake, deceptive and unpredictable. I knew I could read him, but I couldn’t see into my future. We may have a deal going on, but I had no guarantee he wouldn’t turn on me at any moment. There was a pretty damn good chance he’d spill the beans to Mendez as soon as I’d done whatever he wanted me to. I had to try, though. I wasn’t ready to die.
I cleared my throat, staving off another spine tingle. “So, where are we going?”
“There is a private casino about twenty miles from here. It is for select members only.” His eyebrow arched. “You are accompanying me as my date to a very important poker game.”
I eyed him carefully, letting his mask fall away. He was nervous about this one, but also angry?
“Are we playing the man you are indebted to?”
He lips twitched. “No. We are playing the man who put me in debt. I am going to win back every penny I owe, get Gomez off my back...and then make a profit.” He gripped the wheel, his expression hardening with molten rage.
I had no idea who Gomez was. He hadn't mentioned the name before and I could only assume he was the man Miguel owed wads of cash to.
“Where did you get the money to play this game?”
His anger landed straight on me, making me shrink against the car door. “Mendez is funding it.”
“Does he know that he is?”
Miguel’s jaw clenched. “The money will be returned before he even notices it’s gone.”
Oh, man, this just kept getting worse. I closed my eyes and swallowed back my nausea.
“So, um...” I cleared my throat. “How am I supposed to help you win this money?”
A slow, creepy-looking grin eased the right side of his mouth up.
“What? If I’m not playing, how am I supposed to help you?”
“You have eyes and you are my lucky charm. You will never leave my side and will constantly be touching me, kissing my cheek and telling me exactly what I need to know without saying a word.”
I swallowed.
“You pay off my debt and make me a profit, then I will return to the house and Mendez will know nothing. I will disappear before the raid and we will both get what we want.”
“What about your boyfriend?”
His jaw clenched. “He will be safe. The kitchen staff know nothing of Mendez’s underground affairs.”
I threaded my fingers together. “So, what kind of silent code am I giving you?”
“I was thinking a shoulder squeeze could mean the player opposite me has a good hand. Playing with my hair could tell me the person to my right has a good hand, that type of thing.”
We spent the rest of the journey devising a code that would be subtle, yet effective. I hoped I could remember it all. We pulled through a plush set of gates into what looked like a resort. It was in the middle of nowhere, like an oasis in the desert.
I got out of the car as gracefully as I could, squeezing the valet’s hand in order not to topple over in my heels. Miguel put on a tender smile and presented his arm to me. I placed my hand in the crook of his elbow and walked beside him.
We were led through the fancy lobby and down a red carpet hallway. As we neared the intricate double doors, Miguel pressed his lips to my ear.
“Remember, we are in love. You are my new catch and I cannot get enough of you.”
He wrapped his arm around my waist and squeezed me too him, kissing my cheek at the opportune moment. The doors swung open and everyone in the room saw us entering. It was an effort not to push the large man off me, but my life depended on playing this right and so I gave ‘my man’ a sultry smile. Thinking fashion model, I swayed my hips and tried not to fall over in my ridiculous heels.
“Mr. Vera, welcome back.” A short man with dark, threadbare hair, who was trying to pull off an Armani suit, approached us.
Miguel grasped his bejeweled fingers and gave them a squeeze. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“Well, I was surprised to get your call this morning, but the opportunity to take even more of your money was too good to pass up.” He chuckled.
Miguel laughed, but I saw beneath his mask the murderous look he was throwing at the stout man.
“And who is this?” He eyed me greedily, his dark eyes sparking with something that made my insides turn.
“This is Carlotta.”
I extended my hand with a demure smile and let him kiss my knuckles.
“So young and beautiful.”
“Thank you.” I only managed to whisper the words. Trying to keep his mask in place was an effort; the guy’s creepiness made my skin crawl. I looked away from him, finding minimal refuge in Miguel’s fake smile. I kept his mask on, needing to pretend that someone in this room actually cared about my well-being; that just one person was going to protect me from the circling sharks.
Every man in this room was an arrogant prick; it didn’t take long to figure that out. They all sat around the table, some with their bellies pressing into the padded leather edge. Two were smoking cigars, another was sipping on what I assumed was brandy. There was only one other girl in the room, and she dangled off Mr. Armani Suit like a diamond earring. Her look was vacant and behind her mask I could see a bored, rich lover that was only sticking around for the expensive wardrobe and fine cuisine.
I placed my hand on Miguel’s shoulder as the first hand was dealt. He was tense beneath my touch, his need to win so potent I could practically smell it. I rubbed my hand over his back, trying to calm him down. I needed him to win just as badly.
He collected his cards and I eyed them. Thank God he had a good hand.
The man left of the dealer threw in the small blind, followed by the man next to him, who tossed in the big blind. Everyone else then matched the bet, which meant every player thought they had a chance at winning this round. It was an effort to keep my expression neutral when I noticed they were playing with $1,000 chips. I pressed my lips together and scanned the five faces around the table, squeezing Miguel’s shoulder to let him know Mr. Armani, sitting across from us, had a good hand, too.
No one else seemed too big a threat, but the flop was yet to be dealt.
I watched the dealer set aside the first card then deal the first three community cards face-up. All eyes shot to them and I saw a shift in the player sitting to the right of Miguel. I ran my finger up the right side of his neck, kneading my thumb below his right ear, like we’d discussed. He kept his poker face on as the next round of betting continued.
As the turn card and finally the river card were dealt, I kept up my subtle antics, warning Miguel of any dangerous players...and it worked like a charm. Miguel won the round easily. It helped that he’d started with two aces in his hand. He’d won with a three of a kind. His smile of glee as he stacked up his chips was almost sickening.
His pleasure was in no way making me feel better. I could taste his desperate greed and hunger, and it scared me.
I was obviously an asset to him; what if he changed his mind and wouldn’t let me go?
It was tempting to let him lose, but then he’d feed me to the lions back at Quella’s house. I had to win him this game.
My nerves grew tighter with each passing round. I thought they’d actually snap when he lost the fourth round. His unmasked glare felt like a bullet. I leaned forward with a demure smile and pecked his cheek.
“Losing one round makes it more plausible.” I hid my error with the whispered lie. “Don’t worry; you’ll walk out of here a wealthy man.”
He grinned at that, rubbing my arm and kissing the inside of my wrist.
The move made me think of Eric.
A deep yearning I’d been trying to ignore bubbled inside me. I wanted him to burst in that door and rescue me...right now.
I peered over my shoulder, looking at the double doors, waiting for them to be thrown open, but I knew it was a dream. The only way I was getting out of here was by staying focused.
The next few rounds went smoothly. Miguel’s
chips were piling up quickly.
“You are having a lucky day, Vera.” Mr. Armani puffed on his cigar.
Miguel smirked at him.
“Maybe she is your lucky charm.” He pointed at me and his mask slipped. I looked away from his lusty eyes, seeking solace in Miguel once again.
I didn’t get it. His mask had disintegrated, too, and although he was probably smiling at me tenderly, all I could see was his gloating triumph.
Forcing a simpering smile, I rubbed his shoulders and gave myself a quick break, scanning the rest of the ornate room. The artwork looked expensive, the decor filled with artifacts that no doubt belonged in a museum. I was gazing at a Samurai sword hanging against the wall when I spotted him. He was a tall man, with narrow eyes and a sharp nose. He looked young, like maybe only a few years older than me.
His suit was tailored and fitted his muscular frame perfectly. I could tell he was strong. His very presence oozed assurance...the kind ninjas walked around with.
He caught me staring at him and shifted further into the shadows. I had no idea who he was, maybe a security guard?
Miguel’s hand wiggled beneath the split in my leg and he pinched the back of my knee, forcing my attention back to the game. It really hurt, but I hid it like a pro, managing to win him the round in the nick of time.
His hard glare told me not to make it that close again. I blinked at him, a subtle way of nodding, but he didn’t notice; his gaze was on the man in the shadows. Stretching his neck, Miguel adjusted his tie and took the dealer’s button with a small smile. The chances of him winning the round were that much better. The dealer’s button was always a clear advantage, because it meant he could bet last, although with me by his side, he probably didn’t need that advantage.
As I predicted, he won, forcing Mr. Armani out of the game. The short, rotund man swore like a losing school kid and left in a dark huff. He shouldered his way past Shadow Man and that’s when I noticed him staring at me. Because of the distance and the lack of light, I couldn’t really read him, but the hairs on the back of my neck prickled.
Snake Eyes (The Masks Series Book 3) Page 22