by Police
And my ass hurts from sitting too long. Not just that. Mother Nature calls to me, also.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” I croak, speaking for the first time in hours.
Chuck looks to Gary as if seeking his approval, and the loan shark frowns suspiciously at me.
“Hold it.”
“We’ve been here for…” I glance at the clock, “seven hours already. I think I’ve done a pretty good job of holding it in.”
Gary glares at me for a moment longer, before I sigh dramatically. “Look,” I say, “either you’re going to let me go to the bathroom, or I’m going to leave a puddle here for everyone to investigate further why the slightly deranged blond has pissed all over herself. And I’m sure someone will pull me away before you can stop them.”
He gets up in a huff. “Fine.” He undoes my bonds and hauls me to my feet. My legs tingle from sitting too long, and I lean heavily on him. “Pathetic. I don’t think we’ll even need much of a dose to make you go braindead when Callum loses.”
“He’s not going to lose,” I tell him through gritted teeth.
Rather than respond, he pushes me forward. “Bathroom’s there.”
I look up and see a door that has been behind me the whole time. Having been strapped to a chair, I haven’t really had a look at it. But as I struggle to turn the handle and open it, I realize that it’s a single-seater bathroom without a window. Any delusions I have of figuring out an escape or finding someone to ask for help are gone, and I huff irritably.
There is truth to me telling him that I need to go to the bathroom. I don’t even bother trying to ask him to help me with pulling down my pants. My hands may be bound behind my back, but I shimmy them down, and I do my business. The bathroom—which I’m sure Chuck uses regularly and is responsible for most of it—is filthy.
As I finish my business, I groan as I realize that using toilet paper with my hands like this is not going to happen. Not that there’s any paper on the roll.
But, the bar for the toilet paper holder is a substantially sturdy metal rod. And as crazy as it is, I think I've found a weapon for defense if I need it. I hope it doesn't come down to it, but I have to think ahead. Just like I'm counting on Callum, he's counting on me as well.
I turn my back to the holder and fiddle with the bar. Doing stuff with your hands behind your back is harder than you think, and I just barely get the holder off without dropping it.
“You’re taking too long,” Gary calls out to me.
"Almost done!" I panic and try to figure out where the best place to hide it is. I settle for holding it in the waistband of my underwear and pants since I know that he's going to be manhandling my arms. It's going to be uncomfortable as fuck, but I don't have any other choice.
I put it in its place and pull up the pants just as Gary bursts through the door. The lock was useless against his big bulk.
He looks me up and down. “Taking a while, weren’t you?”
“It’s been seven hours.” I face him square on. “I needed to go.”
I’m not sure he believes me. But unless he notices that the toilet paper holder is gone, with the roll sitting on top of the tank, he’s not going to suspect anything. He says, “The second round is done.”
My heart leaps to my throat.
He meets my eyes. "Callum won his table, and he's going to the finals. We're going to go downstairs to watch the rest of it."
It's much more crowded downstairs now than when Gary took me to the security room. I guess a lot of bystanders were waiting for the finals instead of the kickoff. I thought it was busy before. It's at least twice as packed now.
We stand off to the side of the stage, just out of the spotlight, which is where I suppose there won't be that many eyes on us. They'll be looking at the announcer and not us. They even have a giant check with "One million dollars" written on it for the winner, like they do in game shows.
If Cal wins, I wonder if Gary will try to pocket that check. I almost smirk at the thought.
"Don't you say a fucking word," Gary snarls into my ear.
He doesn't have to worry about that. I'm lost in my own thoughts as I survey the crowd, and my gaze lands on Callum. He looks tired. I've never thought of poker as a mentally exhausting sport, but I'm exhausted even just being here to watch. He looks like he's been through hell and back, and there's still another round to go.
There are about eight finalists who move to the last table. As Callum moves, he looks up to the stage, but his gaze somehow finds me among the crowd. I smile and nod at him, hoping that he can understand that I'm proud of him. I never would have thought that the guy I sat next to and beat at blackjack would be the finalist in a poker tournament.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer says, with the excitement of a sports MC. "This is the moment you've all been waiting for. The finals of the Lone Star Texas Hold 'Em Tournament. We here at the Windy Wood Casino hope you've been having fun so far. Are you having fun?"
The crowd cheers deafeningly. I keep watching Callum, sending him as much good luck as I can.
"We have an exciting final round of Texas Hold 'Em ready for you tonight. Our players are from all walks of life, and they're all ready to have an amazing night of poker for you all. But first...we have to draw a spotlight winner for our Tesla. Remember, you simply have to be present in order to win the car. Which means that anyone here is possibly the winner."
More cheering.
"Who here wants to win a brand-new Tesla?"
I wince as everyone screams louder. If my life weren't on the line, I'd be one of those excited people. After all, that's what I wanted the new Ashleigh to be like—excited about possibilities.
"So, can we get a drumroll, please?" the announcer asks, looking behind his shoulder for theatrics. A pre-recorded drumroll comes on the loudspeaker, and four spotlights weave around the crowd. "When the music stops," the announcer says, "there will be one spotlight on our winner. So, Windy Wood Casino, are you ready?"
More screaming.
"I said, are you ready? Five...four...three...two...one... CONGRATULATIONS TO OUR WINNER!"
I'm momentarily disoriented as the spotlight lands on me, and everyone screams so loudly, I can't tell what's happening.
"Come up on stage, miss. You are our lucky winner!"
I have the worst luck in every area of life, but I somehow won a damn car. While I'm being held captive by Gary. People start pushing at me to go up on stage, and Gary's hand is pried off of my arm. I stumble up on stage, blinking in confusion as I don't exactly know what's happening. I look around, wondering what weird dream I've woken up from.
I look back at Gary, who seems both shocked and angry that I'm free of his grasp. Then I look to Callum, who looks just as surprised as I feel.
"Congratulations to our winner!" the announcer shouts as he reaches for my hand to hold it up in a gesture of victory. But of course, my hands are tied behind me, and he stops and looks down at me. "Why are your hands tied?" He says that loud enough for the whole crowd to hear.
I lick my lips and look back at Gary. "Help me," I find myself saying. "I'm being held captive against my will, and—"
Gary doesn't wait for me to finish my sentence. He takes off in a sprint, pushing through the crowd away from me.
In one swift movement, Callum gets up from his seat and chases after Gary.
And they're both gone, leaving me up on stage to accept a car.
I have to help Callum. “Undo my hands,” I tell the announcer. “Now!”
Callum
I recover enough from my shock at seeing Ashleigh win the car to react to Gary trying to escape the crowd. For a big guy, he can sure move quickly, but he's always been a slippery prick, so I shouldn't be surprised. That, coupled with my injury, gives him an edge.
One of the other finalists asks me what I'm doing, but I ignore him. The rest of the crowd is too shocked by Ashleigh's revelation to pay attention to Gary and me slipping away. I'm proud of her for
seizing that opportunity to alert the crowd to her predicament. It may have just saved her life.
Gary leaves the floor faster than I do, and he starts running in a flat sprint. I can't let him get away. I won't let him get away.
He runs and pushes through other casino-goers and even crashes against a cocktail waitress, whose drinks go flying. I opt for a less destructive approach and run along the sidelines, watching as Gary draws all the attention to him. I hope someone decks him, but there's no luck there.
He's about fifty feet ahead of me as he pushes through the front doors of the casino and makes a sharp right turn.
Fuck, he's going toward his car. I take out my phone and dial Quint.
Quint doesn't say hi like others. Instead, he launches into a conversation right away. "Did you see what I did? I let Ashleigh win the car to draw attention to her!" He sounds damn proud of his idea.
If I weren't running after her captor, I'd be impressed. "Are you out here still? We have a runner!"
"Shit, no. I'm inside."
We have GPS on both Gary and his car, but if he gets away, we risk him dropping everything and assuming a new vehicle and identity. I can't let him get away, because I don't want Ashleigh looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life.
"Fuck," I mutter as I hang up without a further word. I need my breath to put in a more explosive run.
Gary weaves through the cars, running parallel to the casino.
And then, from out of nowhere, a metal bar comes flying and strikes him, catching him in the temple. It looks like it surprises him more than anything, and he stumbles to the right, falling into a car and setting off the alarm.
I turn my head to see where the bar came from, and Ashleigh is out here, breathing heavily. How the hell did she get out here? Did she throw it?
I don't have an answer for that. And I don't worry about that right now, because she is safe. I grab Gary by his lapels with my good hand and pull him up to me, and I do what I've wanted to do ever since I asked him for money.
I punch him in the face, hard enough to break his nose. Blood spurts from his face and I rear back with my left hand and hit him again and again. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know that this exertion is hurting my shoulder more and more, but I don't care.
He looks at me dazedly as I get to my feet and shove to flip him over, so he's face-down on the concrete. I wrench his arms behind him and sit on him. He cries out raggedly as I do so—I know it's not a comfortable position for him, but that's the point of it.
"You got him," Ashleigh says as she comes up to me, breathless.
I look at her incredulously. "No, you got him." I thrust my thumb toward that metal piece that she threw at him. "What the hell was that?"
"A toilet paper holder," she explains as she rubs her wrists. "I, uh, got it just in case. I left through the same staff entrance that I left through that night. I guess that came in handy."
I know the one she means. The same one where she saw the man get murdered.
I stare at her. "Nice throw."
She smiles. "I played softball in college."
I start laughing and shaking my head. Because she never ceases to amaze me. She is one of the most challenging, wonderful women I've ever met. And I'm so glad that she's free now.
My phone rings and I shift to pull it out of my back pocket and put it to my ear. "Callum."
"Where are you?" Quint asks, his voice insistent.
"Use the GPS to track Gary," I tell him. "That's where you'll find us."
"Us? Did you get him?"
"Yep." As if in answer, Gary tries to shake me off, but I've hurt him so much, there's no conviction in his movement. "Can you come arrest this asshole before I do something more to him?"
"Callum..." Quint's voice trails off, and Gary turns one wide eye up at me.
"Hurry," I say before I hang up. I pocket the phone and put more pressure between Gary's shoulder blades. And I start the words that I haven't said in what feels like forever. "Gary O'Shea, you have the right to remain silent..."
Goddamn, it feels so good to say that again.
"I should have you arrested for impersonating an officer," the Chief of Police for the SAPD tells me. He never really did like me, and I sit across from him in the interrogation room with my good arm crossed over my bad arm in the sling. "Not only that, but you coerced another officer to use police resources for your own agenda."
"Don't blame Quint. He was just helping me."
"Quint is not your concern right now." He splays his hands out on the table. "What the hell were you thinking, Cal? Why didn't you go to the police instead?"
"He threatened to kill Ashleigh if she went to the cops." I sit back in my seat. "He threatened her, and I did everything I could to protect her."
A glimmer of a smile ghosts about the chief's lips. "And you did protect her. You broke a shit ton of laws doing it, but you did protect her. Which is why I won't be arresting you."
I startle. "You won't?"
"No." The chief steeples his fingers. "In fact, I want you to consider rejoining the force. As a consultant of sorts."
I blink. "Really?"
"Well." The chief is grinning widely now. "It's more of a sure thing than this professional gambling thing you've got going on."
"Hey, I was in the finals for the poker tournament," I say. "I was a pretty sure thing there, too."
He throws his head back and laughs. And it feels good to be smiling like this again.
I spend another hour making a statement and filing a police report. And when I step out of the interrogation room, I can feel the tension melt away from me. There will always be bad guys like Gary in the world. But I'm back to my true calling and helping out the SAPD.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
"Did the chief chew your ear off like he did me?" Quint asks as he comes up to me.
I shrug with my good shoulder. "As much as he could while asking me to be a consultant for the precinct."
He gives me a playful nudge. Unfortunately, it's on the wrong arm, and I wince, but he doesn't even realize. "Welcome back, buddy!"
I nod. "Yeah. It's good to be back." I give him a hard look. "Can you tell me what you did exactly? How the hell did you help Ashleigh win the car?"
Quint lets out a dramatic sigh. "Well, as I told you, it was damned boring doing a stakeout when I could clearly see that Gary was inside. So I got to thinking—what we needed was for the attention of everyone in the casino to be on Ashleigh. And what better way than if she won the car? I went inside, and you'd be surprised what people will do when you flash your police badge. I helped them to shine a spotlight on Ashleigh, and the rest is history."
I chuckle. " I'm guessing she won't be able to keep the car?"
"No. But at least you get your entry money back, right?"
Ten-thousand dollars. It's not the million that I was hoping for, but at least I don't owe anyone else money. And I promise myself that I won't ever get into the position of needing to borrow from a loan shark ever again.
I look over and see Ashleigh standing off to the side. She looks as exhausted as I feel.
Quint catches me looking at Ashleigh. "Go on," he prompts, pushing me toward her. "We'll talk later."
I stroll over to Ashleigh, and with a cry, she throws her arms around me. I let out a grunt, as it puts pressure on my wound, and she immediately lets go. "I'm so sorry!" she exclaims, her fingers hovering over my bandages. "I just—"
"It's fine," I tell her with a tight smile. "I'm just glad you're okay."
She beams at me. "I am all right. Thanks to you."
We share an awkward moment where we look at each. I wonder if I should kiss her or let her digest everything that's happened to her. But she makes the first move and rushes forward to kiss me, her tongue in my mouth and her fingers tunneling through my hair. She's obviously not too worried about public displays of affection. Since I don't work here anymore—at least as an officer—I'm not too concerne
d either, and I kiss her back, relishing every moment we have together.
"I've wanted to do that for hours now," Ashleigh says as she looks into my eyes. "Thank you for everything, Callum."
"You're welcome. I'm sorry I didn't win the million dollars."
She blinks and then shakes her head with a chuckle. "Well, I didn't really win the car. Apparently, if the police tell the casino to make someone a winner, they don't have to honor that."
I stroke her cheek. "Well, the good news is, I can enter the next poker tournament and take it all home then."
"Do you think you would have won?" she asks.
I consider this and sigh. "I'm not sure. I was playing for keeps. I think I can do that again."
"Play for keeps?"
"When it comes to you, always."
She slips her arm through mine and puts her head on my good shoulder. "Good, because I think I lost my job after not calling in for two weeks."
"Surely they'll understand?"
She hesitates. "Well. It wasn't the best job either. So...I wouldn't be heartbroken if they did fire me. I shouldn't have trouble finding another job. Or doing freelance."
I laugh and kiss the top of her head. "I'll take care of you," I promise her. "I love you, Ashleigh Chapman."
She looks up at me. "And I love you, Callum. Professional gambler and all."
I twine my fingers in hers, feeling lighter than I have in years at those words. I didn't think I was worthy of redemption before. And I still may not be. But Ashleigh looks at me like I'm the only man in the world. And that's all that matters to me.
"So where do we go now?" she asks. "Dealer's choice."
I chuckle at her pun. "Well," I say slowly. "I have half a pile of wood already chopped for a fire. I want to take you back to the cabin, pull down the mattress, light a fire, and celebrate."
Her gaze smolders as she steps in front of me. "Sounds like the perfect happily ever after."
"Yes. It does."