Poker Face (The Masks Series Book 4) (17 page)

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.

“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.

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.

Pressing myself against the wall, I tried to look as if I belonged there while skirting the room with my eyes, begging for a taste of Caity. I’d made my way around the second floor and had ascended into the dance pit when I spotted her. She was with the big guy again, looking tired and pale as he escorted her down the stairs. I dashed ahead of them, my mind desperately trying to formulate a plan as I popped outside.

That’s when I saw the limo...

“Ah! Sorry!” Caity crashed into someone behind us. I lurched to a stop, helping the woman off the ground. As soon as she was steady, I pulled Caity away from another apology.

The big High Roller Ferris wheel was looming large. We were getting back to the heart of Vegas. I had no idea where I was going really. I should have just jumped into a frickin' cab instead of making Caity run! My plan of attack was motel, car keys, get the hell out of Dodge.

I guess I had my Dad to think about, too. I had no idea where he and Rhodes had ended up.

Shit! I didn’t have time to think about them right now.

A horn blasted nearby. We both flinched, recognizing the black limo as it zoomed past us, screeching to a stop on the curb. Without a second thought, I yanked Caity into the Venetian. We scrambled past the columns and into the casino. Every game floor was like a damn maze and I was certain Santiago’s men would know this place better than me, but I had to get Caity out. This was my chance and I wasn’t going to blow it.

“Here!” She pointed ahead of us and we made a break past the slot machines and roulette tables. “They're right behind us!”

Caity’s panic tore at me. I ran faster, nearly slipping on the polished marble floor. Ducking behind one of the large columns, I charged for what looked like an exit. We scampered over the bridge and made our way back onto the main strip.

Noticing the light was green, we dashed across the road with the rest of the pedestrians and headed straight for Caesars Palace. I’d been hanging out there only that morning, so I’d have a better chance of negotiating the building. We had no idea who’d seen us cross the street and how close the big guy was to catching up with us.

“I gotta stop.” Caity slipped, crumpling against me as she doubled over. “My side is killing me. I’m sorry, I can’t run anymore.”

“It’s okay,” I puffed, giving her a smile that I hoped was reassuring.

Her eyes narrowed and she read my worries. “We can keep walking fast, though.”

I nodded, wiggling my fingers out of her tight grasp and pulling her to my side. Kissing the top of her head, I moved us though the galleria. It was impossible not to keep looking over our shoulders and after five minutes of anxious glancing, I shunted Caity to the edge of the walkway and ducked into an alcove.

With her back against the wall, I boxed her in, gazing down at her beautiful face.

“It’s going to be over soon.”

She ran her hands up my chest with a soft smile, her lips parting to say something. I leaned forward to hear her, but she changed her mind and planted her trembling lips on mine instead. My mouth opened immediately, seeking solace in her warmth. Her long fingers curled into the back of my hair, pulling lightly as she deepened the kiss. My hands ran down her body, my touch feather-light. Everything she’d encountered in the last week had been rough and harsh. I wanted to be the exact opposite of that.

We broke the kiss, taking a minute to catch our breaths.

“Love you,” Caity murmured, her hand still gripping the back of my neck.

Fear pulsed through her, like she couldn’t quite believe this moment was real, like at any second, we’d be ripped apart again.

I opened my mouth to tell her that wasn’t true when a firm hand landed on my shoulder and yanked me away from Caity.

Caitlyn

Terror tore through me. The hand jerked Eric back, making him stumble out of the alcove. I snatched at his arm, trying to pull him to safety, but went still when I noticed who was standing next to Eric, glaring at him with a look that only fathers could give.

My eyes were large as I drank in Eric’s replica. He was slightly older of course, a few gray hairs sprinkling his floppy locks, but the sharp features, that pointed chin. It was freaky.

“You’re—but you’re...” I sputtered. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

“I will be soon if my son doesn’t learn to control his impulses. What the hell, Eric?”

“I wasn’t going to pass up the chance.” My boyfriend’s jaw was clenched tight. “Besides, it worked.”

Declan scoffed. “You have a tail on your ass now, not to mention the fact that Marchant’s men spotted you in the club.”

“They couldn’t have, I stayed out of sight.”

“I saw you run for the exit and then a group of suits moved after you. They ran right past me.”

“You went in? Why?”

“To find your sorry butt and drag you out of there!”

“You think I’m that stupid!” Eric flicked his father’s hand off his shoulder.

“I don’t know what to think! The logical part of your brain is obviously hindered by this girl here.” Declan pointed at me.

Their whispered argument was growing with fervor and people were starting to stare. I pinched their arms and moved out of the alcove. The move shut them both up...for a second.

“So what’s the plan now then, genius?” Declan snapped.

We came out of the galleria and hit the wide-open poker floor. I felt stupidly exposed in the area. Although the place was crowded, there wasn’t enough traffic to hide us properly. We all sensed it and picked up our step, ducking behind a group of obvious tourists.

Keeping pace with them, we eased our way through to the main casino and pressed ourselves against the wall.

None of us could look at each other; we were all too busy scanning faces, waiting for a group of thugs to run into the open space and see us. People and gambling stations only hid so much. I still felt like a sitting duck.

Eric’s fingers snaked down my arm and threaded their way between mine. I squeezed back.

“Where’s Rhodes?” He looked across my head at his father.

“I don’t know. I lost track of him chasing your stubborn ass.”

Eric’s gaze turned molten and I squeezed his hand again. He clamped his lips together and shook his head.

“We need to keep moving. We’ve got two groups after us now and if we want to evade both of them, we need to stick to the shadows and make our way back to the motel.”

We both nodded at Declan’s instructions.

“Let me just call Rhodes first and we’ll get going.”

Declan pulled out his phone, but before he could even unlock the screen his body went taut and he grabbed my wrist. “Let’s move, people.”

I scampered after him, throwing a quick look over my shoulder. Two bulky guys in suits were hauling ass after us. I didn’t recognize them at all, which must have meant they were Marchant’s men.

My ribs protested as Declan tugged on my arm and we veered off to the left, around a large marble pillar. We did a full circle and popped out behind the men.

“Move!” Declan shot over his shoulder.

I tried to pick up my pace.

We barreled out of the entrance, my ribs once again screaming at me when I jumped back to avoid a luggage trolley running over my toes. I gritted my teeth and pressed forward. Declan let go of my wrist so I could run properly. Eric was right behind me, touching my back and urging me forward. Taking the stairs two at a time, we raced along the outdoor walkway connecting Caesars Palace and The Bellagio.

My breathing was shallow as we dashed past the fountains. They were in the middle of a dance, Frank Sinatra’s chipper voice accompanying the moves. People crowded around the area, their cameras recording the number. We shunted past people, apologizing as we knocked into them and ignoring others as they shouted about how inconsiderate we were.

The attention was like a big neon arrow in the sky pointing down at us. I cringed when I looked over my shoulder and saw the sea of people being jostled apart by four big men.

Great, even more of them.

We didn’t wait for the lights, dashing across the road to the blast of car horns and curses. My fishnet stockings were totally shredded and flicking off my feet, which were complaining at me for slapping against the hard concrete when they were still trying to heal after my last escape attempt.

Thankfully this time, I wasn’t going to fail. We may have had four men after us, but I was with Eric and his father now. The chances of escape were infinitely higher this time. The fact that Declan Shore was still alive bespoke of his Houdini powers. I had to trust in that.

“This way!” Declan directed us past a group of street performers playing outside The Monte Carlo. My breathing was rapid and shallow, nearly coming to a halt when I noticed something across the road.

“Oh, shit. That’s Sal!” I yelled to Eric who glanced across the road and spotted a group of Santiago’s men racing parallel to us.

“In here!” he shouted, pulling us behind the Brooklyn Bridge replica and into New York New York.

The dimly lit casino with its awesome street scene was perfect. We ducked into the shadows and skimmed the wall, finding a dark little spot in the far corner that allowed us to scope out the interior without being seen.

Marchant’s men ran past first.

“Fan out,” one of them barked.

I flinched, pressing against Eric as the four men split ways. He shifted, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and kissing my head.

“We’ll give them a minute to move away then try and sneak out the south entrance,” Declan muttered out the side of his mouth.

We nodded, both still trying to catch our breath. My heartbeat was thrumming like a strobe light and although I’d stopped running, it wasn’t making any attempt to slow down. I rested my head against Eric’s shoulder, eyeing his father out of my peripheral vision. I couldn’t believe he was standing there...alive! Where had he been all these years and why had he suddenly burst back into Eric’s life?

“The Marchant thing,” I whispered, glancing up at Eric. “Was it Rhodes who told you?”

The wave of deep sadness that washed over his expression made my jumpy heart constrict.

“What happened?”

His mask slipped away as he tried to hide his despairing agony from me. I brushed my fingers down his cheek.

“I’ll tell you everything later,” he choked out.

“Is your mom okay? And the girls?”

He nodded, but a look of torment was still clouding his features.

A sudden realization whistled through me and my eyes grew wide. “Gramps?”

His expression crumpled. Declan went rigid behind me and I didn’t need anyone to actually say the words.

Tears flooded my eyes. “How?”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Declan clipped. “Let’s move.”

The news destroyed me. I couldn’t believe Gramps was dead! I loved that man and Eric...Eric adored him. How could he be gone? How had he died?

The anguish on Eric’s unmasked face told me he’d seen it and it hadn’t been pretty. A sad sickness worked through me as we inched out of hiding and merged with pedestrians again. Tears were still blurring my vision. I let Eric pull me along, not really looking where we were going. Weaving through the streets, I let Declan do the lookout work. My shock was freezing my senses and making me useless.

Eric gripped my hand, shaking my arm to try and pull me out of my blank stupor, but I remained in robot mode until we dashed out the south entrance and straight into a group of Santiago's men.

We leapt back from them, making a break for the overpass towards Excalibur.

“Go, go, go!” Declan shouted.

But it was pointless. Bruno chased me down, catching me by the back of my hair and snatching a fistful. I tumbled off the stairs, my hand yanking out of Eric’s grasp. Landing on the ground with a hard thud, I pressed my lips together and sucked back my wail. The onlookers descending the stairs gasped, the group of middle-aged ladies shuffling to the side then scampering away after receiving a cold, hard look from Bruno.

“Get up,” he muttered, his hand once again under my armpit, reminding me who was boss. The gun pressing into my ribcage was also helping. I whimpered, my eyes searching for Eric. He was on the bottom step, gazing at me, his expression a mixture of regret, failure and simmering rage. His crimson-hazed eyes were murdering Bruno where he stood.

My captor didn’t even notice.

Eric was nudged down to the sidewalk by Sal. He was pissed. I’d never seen him that annoyed before. I could tell he was jabbing a weapon into Eric’s back by the way they moved and the expression on both their faces. I didn’t have time to check on Declan. Bruno spun me around, smiling at a group of revelers before shoving me into the limo. My hands slapped against the leather seats. I pushed myself up on shaking limbs and pressed my back into the leather. Eric and Declan sat opposite me, squished between Sal and another guard whose name I didn’t know.

The doors slammed shut and we were all left to wonder what became of Marchant’s men. I didn’t actually care. Either way, we were totally screwed.

Bruno’s malicious smile grew with triumph as his hand landed on my thigh, giving it a hard squeeze before running up to the edge of my hot pants. I tried to push his fingers off me, but it just made him squeeze harder.

I bit back my whimper, trying to think
POKER FACE,
but I couldn’t hide my pain.

“Let her go,” Eric growled, lurching out of his seat as the limo pulled into traffic. Sal snatched him back, punching him soundly in the side with his uninjured hand. Eric crumpled over, gasping for air.

My eyes welled with tears, spurred on by the expression of tortured agony on Declan’s face.

Clayton had been right. Declan Shore did love his son and he now felt like a complete failure. I caught his gaze, willing him not to let the defeat beat him. He had to get Eric out of this.

I wanted to say something, peel back more layers and find that sweet spot I could convince, but I didn’t have the chance. Bruno’s hot lips pressed against my ear, distracting me.

“Trying to run. Big mistake, Carlotta.” He sucked my earlobe. I tried to flinch away from him, but he slapped his hand on the other side of my face, holding me steady. “You’re mine now.” He snickered, prodding his nose into my cheek. “And think how much fun Santiago’s going to have with your men.” His harsh laugher grew louder as the limo dipped, pulling into the concrete parking lot where this nightmare had begun in the first place.