Snake Eyes (The Masks Series Book 3) (24 page)

“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.

I turned away but could still feel his eyes on me, like they were drilling a tunnel between my ears. I didn’t know why he’d become so fascinated with me, but I couldn’t help wondering if he’d spotted our cheating code.

Eric

The drive back was torture. I pushed Gramps’s car to the limit, speeding back to Black Beach with all the finesse of a roadrunner. Gramps was not impressed, but he kept his lips clamped together and let me get it out of my system, yet again proving why he was the best man in the world. I loved the fact he knew when to challenge and when to keep his mouth shut.

We swerved onto his street, screeching to a halt outside the house. I jumped out and raced to my Jeep, swearing loudly when I realized I didn’t have my keys.

“Here you go.” Gramps threw them to me from the front porch. I caught them and shoved them into the lock, wrestling the door open and throwing aside the towels on the back seat. My phone clunked to the floor and I snatched it up, turning it on and hoping it still had enough battery power.

Gramps stood beside me, his hand lightly resting on my shoulder.

The screen lit up and I breathed a sigh of relief as I found my girl’s number.

“Just be patient with her. Remember, she’s trying to protect you.”

I gave my grandfather a soft smile, impulsively wrapping my arms around him. “Thanks, Gramps.”

“I love you, son. I’m always here to help you. Whatever you need.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

We thumped each other on the back and pulled apart. “I’m gonna go inside. You come in and tell me what she said, and we can head up to L.A. as soon as you’re ready.”

“You’re gonna come with me?”

He grinned. “Just you try and stop me, boy.” With a quick wink, he left me by the car.

I shook my head with a wry smile, grateful for his rock-solid support.

Pulling in a breath, I swallowed back my nerves and pressed Caity’s name. Her phone went straight to voice mail. I huffed, wishing she didn’t turn the damn thing off so much.

“Hey, Caity, it’s me. I—” Squeezing my eyes shut, I rubbed the back of my neck.

Patience. Understanding.

I forced my tone to be soft and gentle. “I’m still not sure exactly what’s going on, but I’m convinced you’re hiding something from me...possibly to keep me safe? I love you for that, babe, but I’m worried about you. Please, please call me when you get this.”

I hung up the phone, doubt hitting me for a moment. What if I wasn’t right? What if she did genuinely want to leave me?

“Eric, shut the hell up,” I muttered to myself, noticing I had a few text messages. They were all from Dale.

Call me.

Dude, where are you? Call me!

I’ve left you a message. Check it then CALL ME BACK!

Frowning, I dialed up my voice mail. The usual robot answered, telling me I was indeed calling voice mail.

Message received at 4.35pm on Wednesday, November 25
th

Then Dale started talking.

Hey, man. I’m guessing you’ve taken off. I don’t know where you are, but can you call me back? I bumped into Caity this afternoon and she gave me a note for you. I haven’t read it or anything, but something’s up, man. She was really jittery and I think she’s in some kind of trouble. Anyway, I just thought you should know. Call me as soon as you get this, okay?

It was an effort not to crush the phone in my hand. I ran back into the house, bringing up Dale’s number as I went. Walking through the front door, I found it and was about press the green dial button when I stopped in my tracks.

Gramps was standing in the middle of the living room, his hands raised, a murderous look on his face. Two thugs in business suits stood in front of him, guns aimed at his chest.

Shock froze me still.

“Eric Shore?” The broad man with a voice like gravel smirked at me.

I swallowed, my traitorous head bobbing automatically.

“Lucian Marchant would like a word with you.”

“Who?”

“Eric, RUN!” Gramps thundered at me, lunging towards the men. I flinched, my eyes bulging as he tore at the shorter threat. His feral yell was loud and intimidating, throwing the man off-guard for a second.

A gunshot exploded.

“Gramps, no!” I threw myself into the fray, leaping over the couch and rocketing a punch at the taller man. I caught his chin and he stumbled back. With a steely front kick, I knocked the gun from his hand and prepared for battle. Gramps was still rolling on the floor with the other guy. I didn’t know if the bullet had hit him or not, but I had to eliminate this guy before I could find out.

I raised my fists and bobbed on my feet, eyeing the guy carefully. He lashed out towards me, his metallic gaze a malicious threat. I met it head-on, blocking his attack and firing one of my own his way. At first I thought we were pretty evenly matched — we weren’t really able to touch each other too much — but it soon became clear that he was the more experienced fighter. His strength wore me down quickly, his lightning moves catching me off-guard. I stumbled back, crashing into the wall. The stepladder leaning against it crashed down beside me and I tripped over it.

Spinning around, I blocked the next punch and used a swift kick to inflict a little damage and lower the guy to the floor. He stumbled over me, but it wasn’t enough to stop his left hook. It caught me by surprise, spinning stars in front of my vision. I blinked, trying to ignore the pain rocketing down my jaw.

I balled my hand into a fist and moved to retaliate, but he got me again. My arms flopped as my head reeled and then his fingers were around my throat.

I kicked and bucked, pulling at his arms and pushing at his chin. He held fast, my vision blackening at the edges.

I was vaguely aware of the tussling still going on in the lounge. Gramps was putting up a tough fight.

“Gramps,” I croaked.

My arms were weakening, losing their effectiveness against my attacker. I turned my head to look for anything that could save me when a dinner plate came flying across the room, followed swiftly by another. Both struck my attacker in the temple.

He jerked on top of me, his fingers going slack as he fought the daze.

With a loud roar, I shoved him off me and scrambled to my feet.

Another gunshot echoed through the lounge and my world tipped sideways as Gramps jerked, falling against the table. He gripped the wood but didn’t have the strength to hold on. His sharp gaze caught me, widening with a moment of fear before he fell.

“Gramps!” I wailed.

Two more shots were fired. His foot twitched as the bullets entered his body and a rage unlike any I had felt before coursed through me.

With a banshee cry I tore towards the man, ready to rip him in half. He aimed his gun at me and a shot rang out again.

I expected it to hurt more. Novelists described it as a burning pain, a searing through the flesh, but I felt nothing. Another shot rang out and it was only then I noticed the man’s head jolt. It tipped back and he flopped to the floor like a rag doll.

I spun back to see who’d shot him. Surely not his partner.

Over my shoulder, the tall man was rising to his feet. He smirked at me, his blood-coated teeth flashing through his smile. With a deep chuckle he raised his gun, but before he could even fire, a bullet whizzed past me, entering the center of his forehead.

He crumpled to the ground and I whipped back to find the last person I expected to see standing in Gramps’s doorway.

His expression was grave, a mixture of regret and agony. Eyeing the dead bodies in the room, he shoved the gun into the back of his jeans and finally looked across at me.

“Hey, buddy.”

“Dad?”

Caitlyn

The game came to an end after another hour of play. By then, my head was screaming, my feet were aching and all I wanted to do was get the hell out of there.

We walked towards the double doors, Miguel’s hand on my back.

“Mr. Vera.”

It was Shadow Man. I knew it before I’d turned, the goosebumps rising on my skin telling me so.

Miguel spun on his heel. He was in a smug mood, giddy with triumph over his one hundred and eighty-six thousand dollar win. I had no idea how much he owed Gomez or what he borrowed off Mendez, but I could sense that Miguel was walking away with a healthy profit. He tipped his head at the man, his right eyebrow arching.

“We need to talk...in private." The man's sharp gaze hit me. I shrunk back from it, too afraid to whip off his mask in case I saw an exaggerated version of his unsettling expression.

Fear skittered across Miguel's unmasked face. I fingered the diamonds around my wrist, trying to hide my disquiet. Gazing down at me, Miguel flicked his head. “Go wait in the car.”

I had no choice but to obey. The double doors closed behind me and all I could do was limp my way to the Mercedes. The valet opened my door with a kind smile and I slid into the car, slipping off my shoes and bending down to rub my protesting toes.

It felt like forever, waiting in torturous cluelessness. 

What had Shadow Man wanted?

Why did Miguel look nervous?

Had we been busted? Was some thug about to stomp out of the casino and rip me from the car?

By the time Miguel appeared, my imagination had turned me into a quivering mess.

Popping his briefcase full of cash in the backseat, he slammed his door and we pulled out of the resort.

“Was everything okay?”

“Just business,” Miguel mumbled, his eyes on the road. I could only see his profile, but his tight expression was thunderous.

I licked my lower lip. “For a moment there, I thought we might have been caught.”

His lips were tight as they rose into a half-smile. “No. We were fine.”

An eerie silence descended and I was left to stew in it for the duration of the trip back. It seemed weird that I was actually looking forward to returning to Casa Evil Pit, but I was. I couldn’t wait to get out of this revealing dress and heavy jewelry. I wanted to hop into a hot bath, put my sweats on and just pretend like this was a normal Thanksgiving. I wasn’t wearing a watch, but I could tell by the sky that we were nearing dusk.

My family would all be sitting on the couches in the living room, their bellies stuffed, watching the game. I should have been with them, or better yet, in Eric’s arms, somewhere warm and private where we could make up for lost time.

I knew I’d only been holding him less than two weeks ago, but it felt like forever.

We drove through the tunnel and into the garage. I snatched my shoes out of the car before being dragged back up the stairs. Miguel made me wait in the darkness while he checked the room for an all-clear. Moments later, he pulled me inside and we hustled through Quella’s room.

The briefcase in Miguel’s hand dropped to the floor as we entered my room. I gazed past his arm and gasped.

Mendez was standing by my window. He was now in a business suit and looked ready for his important meeting.

Good. It meant this was nearly over...but that didn’t stop the terror hammering inside of me.

“Not so sick after all, I see.” Mendez turned and walked towards me, slow painful steps that had my heart leaping into my throat.

I stayed silent.

I had no defense for my lie.

His eyes shifted to the briefcase on the floor. “Gambling again, Miguel.” He rubbed his fingers together. “I guess I cannot tell you how to spend your money, but I can tell you this.” His voice shifted from warmth to ice. “I do not mind you having your fun, dressing up whatever dolls you need to and parading them around, but you keep your hands off Quella’s friends.”

Miguel looked at me, putting on a show by studying me with a lust-filled gaze. Even though I knew it was fake I felt completely violated. I rubbed my hand over my arm and squeezed my elbow.

“What if they come onto me?” Miguel’s voice was even, but I could see the contempt. He hated his boss far more than I thought he did.

Mendez smirked. “You are a handsome man. I know you don’t have a problem finding available women. You can pick and choose whoever you like.” An unspoken message traveled between them and I had to assume he was talking about the merchandise he had locked up downstairs. Thank God they would be out of his snare soon.

“But you do not touch her,” Mendez finished.

With a flick of his head, he dismissed Miguel. His head of security straightened his jacket and collected his briefcase with the dignity of a king. I watched him leave the room, silently begging for him not to leave me alone. He opened the door and turned to look at me, a wave of pity cresting over his features. My heart began to gallop, nearly exploding when his phone rang. The unexpected noise made me flinch. He pulled the device from his inner jacket pocket and gazed at the screen, his eyes flicking to mine before he slipped out the door.

Snake eyes.

My innards trembled. I had no idea what his final gaze meant, but the disquiet within me grew to a rumbling shout of warning. Unfortunately there was no time to worry about it, because my greatest threat remained with me in the room.

I turned to face the viper. I’d never felt more alone in my entire life. 

Mendez’s lips twitched as he studied me.

“Nice dress.” The back of his finger trailed softly down my arm.

My heart spasmed as he stepped around me, his finger traveling over the exposed skin at my back.

“It used to belong to my wife, you know.”

I swallowed, tears burning my eyes.

He stopped in front of me, his expression turning stone-hard before he raised his hand in a flash and cracked it across my cheek.

I stumbled back, clutching at my face.

“She was a slut, too.” He grabbed my arm, pulling me against him. “And I had to teach her some very tough lessons.”

He grabbed my face, his thumb and forefinger digging into my cheeks.

“My daughter trusts you, but I do not think she should. I will not allow her to associate with liars and whores.”

Breaths shot through my nostrils, puffing onto his hand. His gaze grew even more malignant, the next layer of his mask disintegrating and showing me the delight he’d take in punishing me.

Fear was pulsing through me in such violent waves I thought I might pass out.

There was no escape from this.

There was no Kaplan.

No Rhodes.

No Eric.