Getting into his car under Luccio’s watchful eye, he swore to himself that he would be back for her and that he would make him pay. He wasn’t about to let her stay in the clutches of that monster. With no idea where he was headed, he drove out of the main gates.
Having nowhere else to go, he drove to the nearest cheap motel and checked in. Grabbing his stuff from the car, he walked up a flight of stairs to his room on the second floor. It was dirty and run down, and the sheets on the bed looked as if they hadn’t been changed since the last president was in office, but he didn’t care. It was somewhere he could sit and decide what to do next. Whatever it was, he would need to do it fast. He had no idea if Luccio would keep Tara around after today. Reaching inside his bag, he pulled out the manila folder that he had slipped in there under Luccio’s nose. He had been saving it as insurance, in case he ever needed it. He needed it now. It was the only thing that could get them out of this mess.
Knowing it would be suicide to head back to the house now before Luccio had had a chance to calm down, he reluctantly settled in for the night. He knew he was unlikely to get any sleep, so he stretched out on top of the bed, fully clothed, and stared at the ceiling. His mind wouldn’t stop replaying what had happened earlier. He couldn’t help but wonder what Tara was going through now, and it scared him.
The night seemed to drag on forever, but eventually the darkness receded and morning came. As soon as it was fully light, Kyle grabbed the folder, jumped in his car, and drove back over to the house. His stomach was in knots as he let himself in through the front door, having no idea what he might find. He stopped just inside and listened for voices. Silence.
Quietly taking the stairs two at a time, he made his way up to Luccio’s room and gently opened the door.
“Tara?” he whispered urgently, noting that the bed was empty. No reply. Going further into the room, he checked the closet. Empty. Feeling a finger of fear crawl up his spine now, he ran downstairs, not caring if anyone heard him. Going straight to Luccio’s office, he flung the door open. He was sitting behind his desk and didn’t seem surprised by the intrusion, not even bothering to look up from his papers.
“Where is she?”
Luccio looked up. “Good morning, Kyle. Come to ask for your job back?”
“Where is she?” he repeated, practically shouting at him now, fists clenched at his sides.
He smirked. “You mean the whore? Well, after I informed her boss of what she’d been up to, he insisted she return home. I must say, he didn’t seem very happy with her. He had a car pick her up first thing this morning.”
Kyle was stunned. “What do you mean, she’s gone?”
Luccio’s smile disappeared. “You didn’t really think that I was going to let you both make a fool of me like that, did you?” His mouth set in a hard line. “I warned you when you started to work for me. Don’t ever cross me. Now, get off my property.”
Kyle couldn’t believe he’d ever let himself work for this man. How had he ever managed to justify it to himself? Unable to stop the rage inside him from boiling over, he reached across the desk with both hands and pulled Luccio from behind it. Pulling back his right arm, he threw a punch that sent him crashing to the floor. Luccio looked up at him, wiping the blood away from his nose with the back of his hand, and smirked.
“Oh, Kyle, you have got it bad, haven’t you?”
Taking a deep breath, Kyle tried to calm himself down. He had planned on using the contents of the file to gain Tara’s freedom, but he saw another way of using them now. Picking the folder up from where he’d dropped it when he punched him, he scattered the contents on Luccio’s desk.
“Get her back here. Now,” he demanded.
“Why on earth would I do that?”
Grabbing him by his shirt front, Kyle pulled Luccio to his feet. Dragging him over to the desk he pointed at the papers. “Go ahead, take a look.”
“What’s this?” he asked, picking up a sheet of paper. Kyle watched as the blood drained from Luccio’s face. “Where did you get these?”
Now it was Kyle’s turn to smile. “I’m ex-LAPD, remember? You don’t think I knew what was going on with all those shipments of ‘clothing’? Every single drop off, every collection, dates, times. Everything the LAPD needs to put you away for a very long time is there in those papers. All it will take is one phone call.”
Luccio just laughed. “And then what? You’ll be prosecuted as an accessory. And you still won’t get the girl back. Not much of a plan.”
Dammit, he had a point. He only had one more card to play. He hoped to God it worked. “Maybe. But I have a lot of friends on the LAPD. I’m sure they would be more than happy to let it be known to all the people who get taken down with your operation that you gave them up for a reduced sentence. That should make your time in lock-up much more painful.”
For the first time, Luccio looked uncomfortable. Kyle held his breath. Was he going to call his bluff? “I couldn’t get her back if I wanted to. She was on a flight back to London first thing.”
Kyle let out a breath. Now what? Sitting down in one of the chairs by the desk, he put his head in his hands. He had never expected her to be gone so quickly, so hadn’t planned for it. He needed to think. Suddenly, it dawned on him. If she couldn’t come back to him, he would have to go to her.
“Where’s that invitation with the contact number on it?” he asked, as he started opening desk drawers.
“What do you want that for?”
“How the fuck else am I going to get ahold of them?” he answered hotly.
“Are you nuts? The Group are not people you want to mess with, and they know all about you. They’re not gonna let you anywhere near her.”
Kyle cursed. “I’ll just have to play for her, then. Where’s that damn number?” he said, as he turned another drawer upside down.
“For fuck’s sake, calm down. I’ll get it for you.” Reaching into one of the drawers Kyle hadn’t opened yet, he pulled out the golden invitation and handed it to him.
“Good. Now do exactly as I tell you.”
Luccio’s mouth dropped open. “Me? Don’t drag me into this!”
“All this is your fault, and if you don’t do exactly what I tell you…well, you know what’ll happen.”
Eleven
She hadn’t been happy to get back to her London apartment this time. Everything had changed. What had once seemed light and airy to her now felt hollow and empty. She hadn’t even bothered to unpack, her expensive clothes and shoes left to languish in her suitcase, no longer important. While she’d kept her emotions under lock and key, she hadn’t cared that she lived in a gilded cage. She had known that it wasn’t forever, and that eventually she would get out. She had been perfectly happy to do what was needed, for as long as was needed.
Now, though, every minute under Sergei’s control felt like a lifetime, and she didn’t know how she was going to carry on. She knew she had to, though. She had no other choice. Sergei had been absolutely furious and had instructed one of his men to accompany her back on the flight and not to let her out of his sight. He was standing in her kitchen right now. Sergei himself had told her he would be around to see her that night, and she knew she was going to have to pay for her transgression. She didn’t regret it, though. Kyle had brought out something in her that she had thought was long dead, and she would be forever grateful to him for it.
The doorbell rang at exactly seven p.m. With a deep breath, she stood up, straightened her skirt, and opened the front door. Sergei pushed past her and into the living room without a word, closely followed by three of his men.
“What the hell do you think you’re playing at?” he yelled as he turned to her. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him so angry. “Do you know what damage you could do to my business if it gets out that our prizes fuck the help?”
Tara didn’t know what to say. “Well, do you?” She nodded. “Really, Tara. You, of all people? I thought you knew better.”
&nbs
p; “I do, and I’m sorry. I promise it won’t happen again.”
“Damn right, it won’t. You know how it works. I own your ass, and don’t you forget it.”
“I won’t. I don’t know what came over me.” It felt like a betrayal, but what choice did she have? She couldn’t just walk away; he would find her wherever she went. It was far too dangerous.
Sergei sighed heavily. “Well, I don’t have a choice. If any of the others found out I’d let you get away with this, they would all try it, and that would be the end of the Games. You’re going to have to be punished.” He abruptly turned to walk away.
“Wait! What do you mean, punished?” she asked, scared. Sergei shook his head sadly. “The boys will show you.” And he left, closing the front door gently behind him.
Twelve
The waiting had been the hardest. Not being able to do anything, willing the days to pass quickly. Luccio had made contact with the Group with Kyle standing closely by, watching his every move. He’d been very convincing, he had to admit. But then, he was very motivated.
They’d informed him that Tara was scheduled to be the prize at a game in London in two weeks. Creating a fictional friend, he had asked them to extend him an invitation as a favor to him. He had had to convince them that the ‘friend’ was wealthy and could afford the entrance fee before they had been prepared to give him the details. Eventually, they had agreed, and he’d been given the details of where and when the next game was taking place. He’d been furious when he’d realized he’d have to put up the 100k entrance fee, but Kyle had gently reminded him of the joys of prison and he’d had no choice. He hadn’t decided what to do about Luccio, if anything. For now, at least, that was a decision for another day.
Now, as he stood in line waiting to board his flight to London, he felt he was actually doing something. Am I crazy? he thought, as he settled into his seat on the plane. He knew something had passed between them. There had been some sort of connection, but that wasn’t why he was risking everything. He could feel the old Kyle trying to resurface, and it felt good. It was with these thoughts swirling around his head that exhaustion finally overtook him, and he fell asleep for what felt like the first time in days.
The plane was making its final approach when he woke several hours later. He had slept for the whole flight, and apart from a stiff neck, he felt refreshed. Exiting customs, he bought a London A-Z map from one of the many shops in the terminal and made his way to the Avis counter. Checking his watch, he saw that he had a few hours to kill before show time.
Not knowing London, he decided it would probably be a good idea to make himself familiar with the area. The address he had been given was in East London so, after collecting his rental car and checking the route on his map, he made his way there. Fighting his way through the thick traffic across London, he’d had to keep stopping and checking the map before eventually finding himself in an industrial park. It looked like the recession had hit here, too, as most of the units were empty.
After a few minutes, he found the one he was looking for. It appeared to have been empty for a long time. Satisfied that he had done all he could for now, he decided to find somewhere to get freshened up. Remembering a Premier Inn he had seen on the way over, he got back in his car and left the park.
He suddenly realized he was absolutely starving so, after checking in, he headed to the restaurant. He’d been willing this day to arrive, but now that it was here he could feel the tension knotting in his stomach. His future rested on a game of chance. Yes, skill was involved, but chance played a huge part in it, too. He didn’t even know who he was up against. Were these amateurs? Were any of them professional players? Despite his hunger, he found he couldn’t finish his meal and, pushing away the half-eaten plate of pasta, he headed up to his room.
The fictional character created by Luccio was a wealthy industrialist, and he needed to look the part so, before leaving L.A., he had bought himself a very expensive new suit. Taking it out of his suitcase, he hung it up so that any creases would fall out while he took a shower. After getting dressed and adding the expensive watch that Luccio had ‘loaned’ him, he checked himself out in the mirror. He would do.
Emptying the rest of his stuff out of the bag that hadn’t left his side since he’d boarded the flight in L.A., he lifted up the removable bottom. One hundred thousand dollars in neatly stacked bills sat there, courtesy of Luccio. Kyle allowed himself a smile when he remembered the distinctly green shade his ex-boss had turned when he’d handed the money over. Now, all he had to do was win the game. No pressure.
Thirteen
In the two weeks she had been back in London, Tara had managed to convince herself that she should have never gotten involved with Kyle. It had been foolish. A moment of weakness. It hadn’t been some great romance. She’d just got caught up in the idea of it. She’d foolishly allowed herself to imagine what life would be like if she’d been just a normal girl when they’d met.
She was angry at herself for allowing him to awaken feelings in her she’d never known. She’d been okay before, but now her whole life, her future, seemed empty and pointless. She was numb, like an outsider looking in on her life dispassionately. She would have to accept that this was her life, and she needed to make the best of it. She had to forget, to move on, or her life would be unbearable.
If she’d doubted it before, Sergei’s visit had shown her the error of her ways. By the time the three were finished with her, she hadn’t been able to walk. It had taken a week for the bruises to go down enough for her to leave the house, not that she had wanted to. The shopping trip she had planned what seemed like years ago, now no longer held any appeal. Seemed frivolous.
By the time Sergei had called her a couple of days ago and told her she was expected to participate in another game, she’d welcomed it, welcomed the idea of immersing herself in the old Tara, hiding behind her walls again. It would keep her busy and take her mind off Kyle. Hopefully, by the time it was over, she would have managed to, if not forget, accept that it just wasn’t to be for people like her. Slipping into a cream silk blouse and black pencil skirt, she sat on the couch and waited for the car to arrive.
***
Not wanting to appear too eager, Kyle had left it until the last minute to arrive at the Game. Opening the door to the unit, he knew what to expect, so he wasn’t surprised when he came face to face with a powerfull- built man, standing there with his hand outstretched. He’d counted on the muscle being local, and let out a breath when he realized he’d been correct. He didn’t know if they would have recognized him, but it wasn’t a chance he had wanted to take. Smiling, he handed over the cash and made his way over to the table. The nine other players were already at the table, and he nodded to each of them as he took his seat. His stomach was churning and he had never felt more nervous, but he couldn’t afford to let it show. Putting his poker face on, he waited for the game to begin.
The first couple of hours were uneventful, with everyone assessing each other’s capabilities and trying to spot individual weaknesses. Everyone had them. Kyle was lucky. He’d spent many of his off-duty nights playing all-night poker games with his buddies, so was aware of his own faults, which he skillfully hid. One after another, the other players ran out of cash and he lost track of time. The strain of concentrating, not only on the cards but on not letting anything show on his face, had given him a headache. He was cold and stiff, and in desperate need of coffee.
The eighth player had just been knocked out when Kyle heard the tell-tale sound of a car approaching. It had to be Tara. Careful! He could not afford to lose focus now. With only one other player in the game, it was between the two of them. He refused to let himself imagine what would happen if he lost. It wasn’t an option. But this guy, he was good. He was in his late fifties, about 5’2”, and very fat. But his face was completely impassive. He gave nothing away.
The last two hands, he’d been dealt crap cards, and as the dealer dealt a new hand, he prayed t
hat his luck would turn. Making sure to keep his face unreadable, he looked at his cards. He’d been dealt a pair of kings, not a bad hand. He was down to his last few hundred. He had no choice. Bluff it was, then. He pushed what remained of his cash to the center of the table and said a silent prayer.
The fat man called it. Flipping over their cards, Kyle was stunned. Fat man had a seven-two off suit, the worst possible hand a player could start with. Everything rested on the dealer. He turned over three diamonds in a row. Despite the temperature, Kyle felt sweat trickle down his back and pool at the base of his spine. The fat man already had a diamond in his hand. One more and he’d have a flush. Kyle would lose. He felt everything change to slow motion as the card turned over, everything else in the room apart from that card going out of focus.
He’d lost. The fat man had won with a flush.
Kyle felt sick. Staring at his hand, he couldn’t believe he had lost. He had never seen anyone have luck like that. What was he going to do now? The fat man was smiling widely and making his way outside. Pushing his chair back, he stood up, his legs barely holding him, as he watched the back door of the limo open and Tara step out. It felt like a punch to the gut when he saw her, and when the man put his hand proprietarily around her waist, it was all he could do to make himself stay where he was. If he went rushing in there now, it would all be over. He couldn’t risk her seeing him. If she reacted, they would know something was up. Realizing they would soon be leaving, Kyle quietly crept back to where he had parked the car outside the entrance to the warehouse and started the engine. He would wait until they left and follow them. He still didn’t know what he was going to do, but at least he would know where she was.
Fourteen
As Tara sat in the back of the limo, her stomach was churning. She couldn’t do this! She felt the bile rise in her throat as she looked at the man she was expected to satisfy for the next month, and at his fat, sweaty hand that now rested on her knee. As she watched, his hand worked its way up her leg and under her skirt. Swallowing hard, Tara tried to smile, to not let the disgust show on her face.