by S. E. Smith
She twisted, knowing she needed to get out of there before she was sick. Rob reached for her, but she recoiled from his touch. As the eldest, he bore the brunt of the responsibility—including recruiting Brit into this mess.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Campeau nod to one of the men at the door. She turned and looked, surprised to see that the bar had emptied out. Shock held her still.
“Your brothers are into human trafficking, Ms… Samara—and you were one of the ones caught in their web. It would be difficult to prove you knew nothing of what was happening. After all, you lived in the same house until recently, if I’m not mistaken,” Campeau said.
She faced her family’s enemy. “I won’t be dragged into this,” she declared.
“Ah, but you already have been,” he said, sliding another photo across the table.
With trembling fingers, she picked up the photo. It was a picture of her talking with a woman who was a few years younger than she was outside of the garage. She vaguely remembered the day. Brit had been really nervous when he found her chatting with the girl.
“Where did you get this?” she asked in a strained voice.
“I think that is a question you should ask your brother—Jerry, isn’t it?” Campeau stated.
She stared at Jerry. He returned her stare with a devil-may-care expression. The sickness churning in her stomach started again with a vengeance.
“We needed some guarantee that you wouldn’t get all self-righteous and start spouting off at the mouth,” he said with a shrug.
Disbelief ricocheted through her like a pinball machine going spastic. She clenched her fist and pressed it against her stomach. Closing her eyes, she tried to focus on what to do. The sound of scuffling forced her eyes back open. Rob had Jerry pinned to the wall.
“I told you not to involve her,” Rob snapped.
Jerry sneered at Rob. “It was security, man. Do you think because she is our sister she wouldn’t throw our asses under the bus when she figured out what we are doing? I’m not as naïve as you, bro,” he retorted.
She shook her head in denial. “It won’t matter. I can’t let you do this. I can’t… I just can’t,” she whispered.
“One game and all of this can go away,” Gary promised, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I swear if you give us a chance, Samara, we’ll come clean. I swear there will be no more smuggling or dealing of any kind.”
She shrugged off his hand and faced him. “Why should I believe you? All of you have always lied to me—even Brit,” she said in a broken voice.
“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder—or turn up dead. I was hoping that night was going to be a changer for me. I wanted to propose to Pat and start fresh,” Gary replied in a low urgent tone.
Her attention moved to Campeau. Every cell in her body wanted to punch the smug expression off of the bastard’s face. She couldn’t blame him for destroying her family. Her brothers had completed that job a long time ago. She hated that he had ripped the scab off and shown all the putrid infection festering underneath.
“One game, winner takes all the evidence,” Campeau said with a sweep of his hand in the direction of the file.
“How can we trust you?” she asked.
“I am many things, Samara, but one thing I never compromise is my word when it comes to a bet,” he replied.
“I don’t play poker on your scale and you know it. It wouldn’t be a fair game. It would be a slaughter,” she said.
“Then I will allow you to choose my opponent,” Campeau compromised with a wave of his hand toward her brothers.
She contemplated the occupants around the room. She studied each of her brothers. Jerry was too hot tempered. Rob was too impatient. Out of the three, Gary was the best, but even he wasn’t great—his loss to Campeau was a testament to that.
“I will play you,” a deep voice said from the doorway.
A gasp slipped from her, and Samara twisted around. Adalard stood in the center, one hand wrapped around the throat of one of the guards. The other guard lay unmoving on the floor. Bear stood next to the unconscious man with a look of awe on his face.
“He did it,” Bear replied with a nod toward Adalard.
“Adalard… how did you know?” she said.
We are connected in ways you have yet to learn, he silently replied.
My brothers… this… I have to talk to Annalisa. This is bigger than a gambling debt, she said.
I don’t think that is an option at the moment, he replied as he nodded his head toward Campeau.
She looked in the direction he indicated. The man silently standing behind Campeau held a gun pointed directly at Adalard’s chest. He wasn’t the only one in the room armed either. Three men who had been standing in the shadows emerged, weapons aimed. Two more moved into position behind Adalard and Bear in the other room.
“Shall we play?” Campeau inquired.
Chapter Twenty-One
Adalard walked toward the table. He paused when Samara stared up at him with a worried expression.
Do you even know how to play poker? she asked in his mind.
Yes. Carmen taught us, he replied.
Carmen? Walker? she demanded.
Yes. She is exceptionally good at this game, he reassured her.
You are going to need to be more than just good, she warned.
As you would say—I’ve got this, he assured her.
“Are we going to play, or are you going to stare into each other’s eyes all night?” Campeau snapped.
Adalard scowled at the other man. “We are going to play,” he drawled.
He didn’t conceal the slight difference in his appearance. His violet eyes glowed eerily with his power, and the irritation on Campeau’s face changed to unease. Adalard pulled out the chair across from the man and sat down.
“I suggest a warm up game before we proceed,” Campeau offered.
“Perhaps we should start with a bid,” Adalard replied.
Campeau glanced over him and then Samara. “Five thousand dollars,” he said.
Samara moved to get the cash from her pocket, and Adalard touched her hand, shaking his head. Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed the back of it.
“Instead of money, I suggest something personal,” he said.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a Trivarian diamond the size of a walnut. He had brought mostly precious stones instead of money, though Mason assured him that the thin piece of plastic he had given him would act as currency. He placed the large faceted stone on the table in front of him.
“Do you expect me to believe that is a real diamond?” Campeau demanded.
Adalard sat back in his seat and waved a hand toward it. “I can promise that you will never find a diamond as pure as this anywhere else on this planet,” he said.
Campeau reached out and picked up the diamond. Adalard watched as the man breathed on it before studying the pure perfection of the stone. Campeau waved his fingers, and the man behind him stepped forward, leaning close to him attentively.
“Bring me a glass of water,” Campeau instructed.
Less than a minute later, a tall glass of water was placed in front of Campeau who proceeded to drop the diamond into the glass. The gem immediately sank to the bottom. Adalard watched with amusement as Campeau poured the water onto the floor and plucked the diamond out of the glass. Then he scored the glass and hissed when a deep cut appeared.
“Is it real?” Gary asked.
Campeau didn’t answer Gary, instead he looked across the table at Adalard. “Where did you get this?” he demanded.
Adalard knew he had Campeau’s complete attention now. “From a small mine that I own,” he replied with a shrug. “Are you ready to play?”
Campeau paused and rolled the diamond against his palm. He nodded and placed the diamond back on the table. Pushing back his sleeve, he removed his Patek Philippe watch. He placed the watch next to the diamond.
; “Something personal,” Campeau replied.
“Let the game begin,” Adalard said.
Al fingered the deck of cards in his hands and studied the man across from him. The strange man’s sudden appearance—and the ease with which he could incapacitate two of his guards—was perturbing, but if the diamond was real, and he suspected that it was, then the evening had just become much more interesting.
“If we are going to play, we should introduce ourselves. I am Alberto Campeau and you are...?” he soothingly coaxed.
“Adalard Ha’darra,” Adalard replied.
He nodded in acknowledgement. “Where are you from Mr. Ha’darra?” he inquired.
“You could say that I’m not from around here. Does this game come with a drink?” Adalard replied.
“I’ll get it. What would you like?” Gary anxiously asked.
“Jack will provide our drinks,” Al stated.
One lesson Al had learned was never to take a drink from anyone he didn’t trust, or who wasn’t paid handsomely to make sure he stayed alive. He continued shuffling the cards. There was something soothing in the feel and sound of the cards as they flowed through his fingers. The delay also gave him more opportunity to size up his opponent.
Adalard Ha’darra was leaning back, relaxed in his seat. One of his arms rested on the table and the other was on his lap. His long hair was pulled back, revealing a thin scar on his cheek. It wasn’t only the man’s rugged appearance or the fact that he was obviously well versed in violence, but it was Adalard’s eyes that made him extremely wary. There was an unnatural glow around the irises—and a color that could only be achieved with contacts. What bothered him was that Adalard Ha’darra didn’t strike him as the type of man who would bother to enhance his appearance for appearance’s sake.
Jack returned with two glasses and a large bottle of liquor. Al casually watched Jack opened the still sealed bottle at the table and fill his glass before stepping around the table to pour one for his unexpected guest. Lifting his glass into the air, Al paused and smiled.
“A toast to a good game,” he said.
Adalard lifted his glass, drained it, and placed it aside for Jack to refill. Al smiled with satisfaction as he took a sip from his glass. The fine Blanton’s Straight from the Barrel Whiskey was perfect for an intimate game of poker among like-minded enthusiasts. The whiskey’s discerning palate was impressive even to the pickiest drinker with the delicate blend of vanilla and tobacco, a flavor palate rich with citrus, spice, honey, and butter, along with a lengthy finish fueled with notes of peach and smooth chocolate. The savory liquor was also a good way to relax an unknown opponent.
Al leaned forward and placed the deck in the center of the table. The room became unnaturally quiet. The large man who had accompanied Ha’darra into the room gently pulled Samara away from the table.
Behind them, the two guards that Ha’darra had incapacitated a short while ago were now sullenly glaring at Ha’darra’s back. Annoyance filled Al at the distraction. He raised his hand to Jack.
“Yes, sir?” Jack replied.
“Have those two wait outside,” he said in a dismissive tone.
“Yes, sir,” Jack responded.
Ha’darra divided the cards and shuffled them with the ease of a Master Dealer from the Strip. It seemed the man was no stranger to the gambling table and cards, yet despite Al’s vast experience in the elite group of high-stakes gamblers, they had never crossed paths.
“Where are you from, Mr. Ha’darra?” he persisted.
Adalard gave him an icy smile that sent a shiver down his spine. “It is Prince Ha’darra, Mr. Campeau,” he coolly responded.
“Prince…. My apologies, Your Royal Highness,” he stiffly corrected.
“Apology accepted,” Adalard replied, replacing the deck on the table.
Samara watched from the back of the room. She started when Bear gripped her hand. He slightly jerked his head toward the door, and she shook her head.
Please, go with Bear, Adalard requested.
But… why? she protested.
His soft laughter sent a wave of warmth through her. It didn’t come off as nervous. At the moment, Gary looked like he was about to dissolve into a boneless blob on the floor, Rob seemed to be wishing he was anywhere else in the world, and Jerry—well, Jerry’s greedy eyes were glued to the diamond in the center of the table.
I would rather you not be here when Campeau realizes how well I can play this game, Adalard explained.
As much as she would love to stay and watch, she realized that Adalard was right. She could be a distraction, or worse, used as leverage against him. There were times when retreat was the best option, and it wasn’t as if Adalard couldn’t handle himself if things got heated. Her brothers on the other hand… well, they deserved whatever happened to them.
Just make sure you tell me what happens. I don’t want to miss my brothers getting a good ass-kicking, she answered.
What, no concern for me? he teased.
Nah. Something tells me a situation like this is a garden party for you, she retorted.
Silent laughter met her remark. Campeau paused and scrutinized the humor dancing in Adalard’s eyes, but he didn’t ask and Adalard didn’t offer an explanation.
Samara breathed in deeply and squeezed Bear’s hand to let him know that she had changed her mind. Releasing Bear’s hand, she stepped sideways to exit the room.
Her path was immediately blocked by one of Campeau’s men. She looked the guard up and down. The man looked like he was dressed for a Mission Impossible Cosplay event.
“I would like you to stay, Samara,” Campeau called from behind her.
She looked over her shoulder at him. “All the excitement makes me need to pee. Unless you want me trying to piss in a glass, I suggest your man move out of my way,” she crudely stated.
Campeau chuckled. “That will not be necessary. My man will escort you to the Ladies’ Room,” he instructed.
“And I’ll escort your man,” Bear growled, glaring back and forth between the guard and Campeau.
Campeau’s smile faded, replaced with a hard glare. “Jack, escort all of our other guests out of the room and shut the doors,” he ordered.
“Yes, sir,” Jack replied.
Samara pursed her lips to keep from grinning when she felt an unexpected bulge and weight in the pocket of her jacket. She slid her hand into her pocket and wrapped her hand around the device that had suddenly appeared. She widened her eyes when she felt the familiar shape of a gun.
I hope you don’t expect me to fight my way out of here. I’d be better off staying with you if that’s the case, considering it’s like eight-to-one odds out here now, she dryly thought.
Bear has one as well. We had a talk on the way here. He knows who I am. I trust your aim—but the blasters are set to stun should you miss and hit Bear, he assured her in a teasing tone before she felt him pull away.
He trusts my aim, she thought with a mental roll of her eyes.
Samara followed Bear and her brothers out into the main room. She turned when Jack closed the doors to the private room behind him. The sound of hurried footsteps pulled her attention away just in time to see her brothers making a beeline for the exit in the back.
Nothing like a little concern for their sister, she bitterly thought.
Their exit meant that she and Bear would be left to deal with Jack and the rest of the security team. Bear smiled and flashed her five fingers before nodding at Jack. She lifted an eyebrow. She really hoped he was a good shot.
“I thought you needed to use the bathroom,” Jack said, pulling her attention to him.
She slipped the weapon out of her pocket and gave him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I lied,” she said, pointing the alien gun at him and pulling the trigger.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Is there anything else you can remember?” Annalisa asked.
Samara shook her head and wrapped her arms around her waist. Annal
isa reached out and touched her arm in a compassionate gesture of support. Tears burned Samara’s eyes, and she shook her head in annoyance.
“So… what… what’s going to happen to them?” she asked in a voice thick with emotion.
Annalisa closed the notebook she had been writing in and sighed. “A lot depends on how much evidence there is against them and how much they are willing to cooperate. They all have lengthy records. I won’t lie to you. It isn’t going to be pretty,” she replied.
Samara nodded and brushed a tear from her cheek. “What about me?”
Annalisa squeezed her arm. “Your brothers confirmed that you knew nothing about what was going on. I would be surprised if the prosecutor even called you in to testify. I know turning in your own family was difficult for you, but you did the right thing. Who knows? It might straighten them out.”
Samara released a strained laugh and brushed at the dampness on her cheek again. “Yeah, well, according to two of them, I’m no longer family,” she grudgingly shared.
“Rob and Jerry don’t deserve to have you as their sister, both Gary and Brit know that. Hopefully, those two will use this as a chance to break away from Rob and Jerry’s influence,” Annalisa replied.
“I really hope they do,” she murmured with a tired sigh.
Annalisa grimaced when her cellphone buzzed. “Listen, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me,” Annalisa stated before she answered the call. “This is Hollins.”
Samara stood outside of the barn and watched as Annalisa returned to her truck. She lifted her hand in a brief wave as Annalisa pulled away. Pressing her uplifted hand to her chest, she absently rubbed the aching spot over her heart and wondered for the millionth time if she had done the right thing by turning in her brothers. Feeling depressed, she slowly went back up the stairs to her apartment.
The last three days had passed in a blur. After using the device that Adalard had given to her and Bear to knock out the guards, the two of them had escaped out the back where Bear’s truck was parked.