Poker Face (The Masks Series Book 4)

by Melissa Pearl

  Risky move on Dad’s part. My guess was he wouldn’t take it. He’d no doubt search the perimeter for his stubborn son while Rhodes took the heat inside.

  Wiping my nose with the back of my finger, I crept down the alley, all senses on full alert as I made my way around the building. Climbing onto a stinking dumpster, I pulled myself over the high fence and dropped down the other side.

  Staying close to the brick wall running the length of the alley, I took in the lines of trashcans, steam oozing out from under the doors and the occasional bang of metal or hollering calls. It made sense that the kitchens exited out onto the back alley; that was one way in for me. I just had to wait until the right door popped open and then saunter through. I stopped to study the buildings, trying to figure out how big Club Impulse was. It looked to take up about half the block from what I had seen of the front. I jogged down a little further and snuck across the alley, checking labels on trashcans and doors.

  A slow smile grew on my face when I reached the end of the row.

  Impulse was stamped clearly on the back door. I tried the handle, but it was one of those open from the inside only type ones. I stepped back, wondering how to play it. Did I knock and fake being the delivery boy or something?

  I looked at my empty hands and shook my head.

  “Come on, think!”

  My brows bunched together as I stepped back, hoping my brain would come up with a flurry of ideas. I had to think of something good. My girl was in that club right now and I had no idea what was happening to her.

  “I’m coming, Caity. I swear.”

  Running down to the edge of the building, I found another narrow alley. My eyes saw the old, rusting fire escape. Jogging to it, I leapt high and caught the bottom rung, pulling it down and quickly ascending before someone saw me.

  Who said I had to enter this club on the ground floor?

  Chapter 29

  Caitlyn

  The club was a dramatic insult on the senses. A throbbing beat pumped through the cavernous room. The dance floor was packed with gyrating bodies. I glanced down at it as we ascended the glass stairs to the upper rooms. Blue lights illuminated the curving walls and with dry ice machines puffing out murky clouds every few minutes, it was like looking down into a huge witch’s cauldron. Massive birdcages hung from the ceiling on chunky metal chains. Inside them were girls in fishnet stockings and bone corsets with their breasts popping out the top. Their hips swayed hypnotically, enchanting the drooling men below.

  I slowed my pace, staring at the girl closest to me. Her lips were turned up with a sexy smirk, but beneath that smile was a desolate face. Although she felt a certain sense of empowerment, bringing men to their knees this way, it was tainted by an overwhelming shame and lack of worth.

  If only she knew she was so much more than a pretty bird locked in a cage.

  She deserved more than ogling eyes and constant catcalls. Didn’t every girl deserve a man who looked at her like she was a precious gift to be treasured?

  I thought of the pain on Eric’s face as he took in my beaten body as if the wounds hurt him just as much. I thought of his promise as he kissed me goodbye.

  Bruno nudged me from behind, making me pick up my pace.

  My ankle curled in the high stiletto. I yelped.

  Snatching my arm, Bruno pinched tight, a silent warning to act like the hooker I was dressed as.

  I glared at him, trying to wriggle my arm free, but it was no use.

  Resigned, I put my poker face back on and followed Santiago up the stairs without a fuss.

  May as well get the torment over with. I had no idea what Marchant would want with me. The fact that I was dressed this way was damn unnerving. If Marchant was after my sight, why did I need to look this way? Was Santiago simply keeping his options open in case Marchant wanted more?

  I shuddered.

  I didn’t want to meet him. Since Monique told me where Santiago was taking me, I’d been whispering a constant prayer in my head.

  Please don’t let Eric follow me tonight. Please don’t let him follow me!

  I wasn’t sure how he spent his day, but I was certain that it would have been planning my rescue. Working with Rhodes was a good sign. Eric could be a little impulsive sometimes and Rhodes would be a logical, calming factor in the equation. He wouldn’t just rush in gung-ho. Hopefully between the two of them they could get me out of here, but not this night. Not when the risk was so incredibly high.

  Santiago paused outside a bright blue door, tapping his large signet ring on the wood. He caught my eye and seared me with a do as you’re told look. I gave him a stiff nod and he turned with a grin as the door opened.

  A curvaceous girl dressed in a blood-red bone corset stood before us. Her luscious locks of dark, wavy hair covered one of her ample breasts. I glanced away from her figure when I noticed I could practically see her nipple on the other side. My cheeks no doubt flamed with color when they dragged me past her. My breasts were just as exposed as hers; well, one of them was anyway. Holding my head high as Bruno pushed me into the center of the room was an effort.

  I felt like a model, thrust onto a catwalk, completely naked.

  Every eye in the room ran up and down my thin frame, but the only eyes that drew me belonged to a man in a white suit. He was on the round couch, his arms stretched wide with two little birds perched either side of him. They were also dressed in corsets that looked damn uncomfortable. I wanted to run my hand up my arm and cover my body, but that would just give away my fears.

  Instead, I threaded my fingers together and tore off the man’s mask.

  I had to assume it was Marchant. His greedy eyes only grew with fervor as he stood from his place and slowly approached me, pulling his jacket straight. His suit was super-fitted, his pointed shoes shiny. He looked like a middle-aged man of infinite class and dignity, his fine features and sharp blue eyes actually making him quite handsome. But I knew better.

  Behind that charming, cool facade was a darkness that surpassed Santiago's...heck, even Bruno's.

  I couldn’t hide my shiver when he circled me. His eyes soaked in every curve of my body. I could feel him mentally undressing me, and it took all my willpower not to run for the door.

  “Hmmmm.” He stopped in front of me, crossing his arms. His unmasked face told me I was pretty enough. He obviously had a thing for blondes and he really liked my blue eyes. My flat chest and pencil figure didn’t bother him. He’d take me.

  I swallowed, hating the lusty look in his eyes.

  “I can do better.”

  He was French. I could hear the accent straight away.

  “No, you can’t, Lucian.” Santiago moved from his place against the wall, a sick smile on his face. Placing his hands on my shoulders, he gave them a little squeeze and whispered, “This one’s special.”

  I swallowed.

  “Look into those blue eyes of hers and you’ll see.”

  With a skeptical frown Lucian Marchant leaned towards me, gazing straight at my face.

  “Show him.” Santiago tapped my butt and stepped back.

  I cleared my throat. “On the outside, you look skeptical. You don’t want Santiago to see just how curious you are about me. You play your cards close to your chest. That’s a strength you rely on.” My eyes bulged and I took a step away from him.

  A sharp wrath, spawned from insecurity, flashed across his face. He didn’t want his secret weapons to be revealed to the room. The fact I’d stepped back in fear confirmed to him exactly what he’d been guessing. I was seeing things others could not.

  “Leave us,” he snapped over his shoulder.

  His minions and flightless birds shuffled out of the room, throwing me odd looks as they left.

  Within a minute the crowded room consisted of five people - Santiago, Bruno, Marchant, his bodyguard and little ol’ me. I felt like a zebra who’d just been dropped into a lion enclosure at some wildlife park.

  “How do you do it?” Marchant crosse
d his arms, his right eyebrow arching.

  “It’s a gift. I pull down a mask and I see what I see.”

  His jaw worked to the side and he pointed at his bodyguard. “Does he like me?”

  “Excuse me?”

  Pinching my chin, he forced me to look at the large man standing by the door. “Is he loyal? Does he like me?”

  The guard’s mask came off easily. I could see how nervous he was. His unmasked eyes bulged wide, begging me to say the right thing.

  “Tell me the truth,” Marchant barked.

  “Um.” I swallowed, giving the guard an apologetic look. “He will do what you say, because you pay him, but...he does think you’re a jerk sometimes.”

  Marchant’s eyes narrowed and he turned to the brute. “Still angry over your sister, aren’t you?”

  The guard responded by casting his eyes to the floor.

  Marchant turned to me, his eyebrows arched even higher.

  “I don’t know the reason for his resentment, but if you did something bad to his sister, I can understand his feelings.”

  It was a damn ballsy thing to say and I don’t know why I did it. Marchant was an arrogant asshole. No one dared to question his decisions.

  Nerves skittered through me. His mottled expression grew darker, his pinching fingers on my chin that much tighter.

  “Hurting me won’t make you feel better.” I blinked.

  “Yes, it will.” His smirk was hideous.

  Flicking the layers of his mask back and forth, I could see that actually, underneath a very fine layer of self-loathing, was a metallic layer of self-satisfaction. Awesome, another sadist.

  “You’re right,” I eventually mumbled, knowing the blatant truth would be the only chance I had to save my ass. “Other people’s suffering gives you relief, but it will never fully wipe away the past. No matter how hard you fight it, that thread of self-loathing that you can’t seem to cut will always be with you, and it will only grow thicker and stronger with each human you harm.”

  After an agonizing breath, he let me go, bursting into a hearty laugh. “Santiago, she’s like Sigmund Freud.” His laughter died down to a snicker.

  “I told you she was talented.” Santiago’s smirk was so damn irritating.

  “I don’t need a therapist.” Marchant threw his guest a dry look.

  Santiago pasted on a charming smile. “Lucian, of course you do not. What you need is a girl who can sit by you in business meetings, who can help you negotiate the right price.” He sounded like a snake as he hissed the last word.

  That caught Marchant’s interest. He tipped his chin at me. “How much?”

  Keeping my lips together and my horrified gasp in check was basically impossible. I couldn’t be sold to Marchant. I couldn’t! Eric would die trying to get me out and that would kill me.

  Santiago moved back to my side, skimming his hands down my body and resting them on my hips. I wanted to flick them off, but all my numb mind could manage was statue mode.

  Please don’t say a price, Santiago! Please!

  “She’s not for sale.” He rested his chin on my shoulder. “But I will hire her out for business meetings and any negotiations you might have in the pipeline. She can also be used for interrogation.”

  Marchant liked that idea, his unmasked face gleeful. I shoved his mask back on, hating the malicious expression. His calm facade was a touch better, but not by much. Any normal girl in my position would still find him uber-creepy.

  “What are the terms?”

  “Ten-thousand an hour. You can do whatever you like with her in that time, but she must be returned to me in one piece. She’s no use to any of us if she can’t see straight. That means no substances.”

  “Sex?”

  Santiago shrugged. “If you must, but be aware there will be a guard with her at all times.”

  Marchant made a face that told the room an audience during sex didn’t bother him in the least.

  It was impossible not to react.

  “I’ll see nothing if either of you touch me.” I didn’t have the courage to shout the words like I wanted to, but they were loud enough to be heard.

  Both men smirked.

  “That is her constant threat.” Santiago smiled, brushing my hair over my shoulder and skimming his knuckles down my cheek. “You may want to conclude your business first, if you get my drift.” He winked.

  I opened my mouth to protest, but Santiago clamped his hand around my upper waist and squeezed. My ribs screamed in protest, cutting off my words. I bit my lips together and he released me.

  Tears threatened, my throat thickening. I bit the inside of my cheek, warning myself not to lose it.

  I looked between the men. Unmasked, I could see their banter at my expense was covering up a thick layer of animosity. Santiago was out to make some big money off me and Marchant was his first client. Marchant would happily hand over ten grand for one hour of my time, but he had no intention of giving me back.

  “Okay.” Marchant slid his hands into his pocket. “I have a meeting here tomorrow night. Let me have her for two hours. If she delivers, I’ll use her again next week.”

  Santiago eyed me sideways. “Is he telling the truth?”

  No!

  I wanted to tell Santiago, but I couldn’t, because Marchant was looking at me with two death rays that told me if I didn’t lie right now, I’d be a bloody mess on the floor before I made it out of the room.

  I looked to Santiago; his gaze was hard and fierce, demanding the truth. If I didn’t give it, he’d hand me over to Bruno for sure. Which was worse: death or... my gaze flashed to Bruno.

  Eric’s name screamed through my head.

  I opened my mouth to answer and an angel must have been watching over me, because the door flew open.

  “What!” Marchant barked at the interruption.

  One of his guards approached him, whispering in his ear. I watched his face carefully. The news surprised him, his brow wrinkling, but the confused look quickly lifted, replaced with a nefarious smile that made my skin crawl. I threw his mask back on as he whispered something back to his man and turned to us with a genial grin.

  “I am sorry, but I have some urgent business I must attend to.” He held out his hand and Santiago took it. “Thank you for this proposition. I look forward to doing business with you.” He slapped the top of Santiago’s hand and moved towards the door. “Please, feel free to stay. A tab will be opened for you at the bar.”

  With that, he dashed out of the room. We escorted ourselves back out into the thumping cavern.

  Sal met us at the top of the stairs and bent low for Santiago’s instructions.

  “Take her back to the hotel. Bruno and I are going to stay and have a little fun.”

  Sal nodded, taking my upper arm and leading me down into the fray. I was relieved. I couldn’t wait to get out of this place. As soon as I got back to the hotel, I was going to flop onto that huge bed and rejoice in the fact that I’d just dodged a bullet.

  I wasn’t sure why Marchant had left the meeting so suddenly. I wanted to know what that surprised glee on his face meant. Sometimes I wished I could read thoughts and not just emotions. It’d be easier to figure people out.

  Sal shielded me as we bustled past the ridiculous line of people waiting to get in. The bouncers were doing a pretty good job of controlling them all, but the air was alive with a tense energy that could explode at any moment.

  The limo was already at the curb. I wondered if Gabriel had been instructed to hold his ground and wait for us. Gabriel opened the door for me and I slid onto the plush leather, flicking off my heels and rubbing my feet. Sal slid in beside me and before Gabriel would close us in, the door behind me opened and I was yanked backwards out of the car.

  Sal lurched forward to snatch me, but my grabber smashed the door closed, jamming his fingers. His howl of pain was hideous. Gabriel raced around the car to help him and no doubt chase after us, but we were already on the run.

&nb
sp; “Let’s go, Caity!” Eric pulled my wrist, urging me into the traffic.

  We jumped past cars and over the middle section, hitting the curb on the other side and ducking into the flow of human traffic.

  “Carlotta!” Sal shouted from across the road.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and kept moving, letting Eric drag me away to safety.

  Chapter 30

  Eric

  Caity nearly tripped. I slowed my pace, noticing for the first time that she was in bare feet, her fishnet stockings already torn and shredding.

  “You okay?” I kept running, hoping her answer would be yes.

  “Uh-huh.” She puffed after me, lagging with each block.

  What the hell was I thinking, dragging her through Vegas like this when she probably had a couple of broken ribs! But when I’d seen her come down those stairs with Sal, I’d made an impulse decision.

  It hadn’t been hard to sneak into the top floor of the club. The building was old and had obviously been refurbished, but the exterior shell was the original and I found a loose window on the third floor of the fire escape. I’d walked into a dusty attic space, piled high with boxes and sheet-covered furniture. Scrambling through the darkness, I’d followed the thudding music and found a narrow stairwell that popped out into a blue-lit corridor. The hallway was lined with padded doors that had circular ship-like windows embedded in each. I made the mistake of looking in one and quickly worked out I was in the illegal brothel section of the nightclub.

  I scurried through the rabbit warren until I eventually found an exit. A key-card was needed to gain access, so I had to simmer in the shadows until a short businessman accompanied by a beefcake security guard sauntered through. I stopped the door with the toe of my Converse sneaker and eased through. I found myself standing on a mezzanine floor that looked down into a pulsing blue club fitted with human-sized birdcages and a writhing dance floor.