Gambling with Gabriella (Menage MfM Romance Novel) (Playing For Love Book 2) (11 page)

I
t’s ten at night
. The sun has set and the bright lights of the neon signs shine in the dark. People are wandering about on the streets, walking from casino to casino, chasing lady luck.

I’m in the parking lot of the Grand River, standing in front of Gabby’s rental car. “You don’t have to do this,” I say, for what seems to be the hundredth time. “This whole thing doesn’t seem right to me.”

That’s as much unease as I’m going to vocalize. I don’t want to make her any more nervous than she already is, and maybe I’m just being paranoid. But something doesn’t add up in this situation. Gabby’s made a fair bit of money both days at Bulldog’s table. The chances of him inviting her back are slim - his regulars will undoubtedly have grumbled about the woman from New York who was stealing their hard-earned money. If Bulldog was thinking about this from a business standpoint, he wouldn’t have sent her tonight’s location.

So he’s not thinking about business. The only other explanation is that Ed asked that Gabby be there. Perhaps it’s because of Gabby’s charm, but a more sinister explanation is that Ed suspects something.

Like I said, I don’t have a good feeling about this.

“Look,” she reasons. “If there’s a chance to find Noah, don’t you think I should take it?”

Yes, damn it. That’s the rub, isn’t it? There are no good choices here. Either I endanger a woman I care very much about, or I endanger my five-year old godson.

“You have the tracker?” Carter asks.

“I do,” she confirms patiently, slipping off her pretty high heels and showing us where it’s hidden on the inside of her shoe. This is not the first time Carter’s asked that question. “I promise, I won’t go anywhere without it.” She smiles bravely. “You guys will be right behind me,” she says. “I have nothing to be afraid of.” She envelops us in a hug, drawing us near. I can smell her perfume, the subtle tones of jasmine and mint messing with my mind. We all cling together for an infinite second, then she pulls away and unlocks the car door. “I have to go.”

“We’ve got your back, Gabby,” Carter promises.

She grins. “I know, Carter,” she says cheekily. “Else I’m going to break your toes with my wheelchair, remember?”

O
nce she’s gone
, I turn to Carter. “What do you think?”

“I don’t have a good feeling about today,” he says. “It’s risky, but I think we should move closer.”

“Can we get anywhere near the address? Where is it, anyway?” Even as I speak, I’m punching in the address Bulldog texted her into Google Maps. “Shit, this isn’t even in AC. This is Pleasantville.”

Carter nods. “It’s the basement of a Mexican restaurant,” he says, looking over my shoulder. “I know the place. I can’t get crews right to the door, but I can set a perimeter in a two-block radius.”

“Do it,” I say. I feel the same disquiet that Carter is feeling, the same sense that something bad is going to happen tonight. “Let’s get as close as we can. If this ignites a war with Bulldog, then so be it.”

Gabby’s brave and spirited, and she can take care of herself. But we are still going to be right behind her. Noah’s precious to us, but so is Gabriella, and tonight, we are getting both of them back.

I
’ve tried
to conceal my nerves from Dominic and Carter. I can tell they don’t want me to go. But though Carter doesn’t want to admit it, his men are no closer than they were to finding Ed than they were two days ago. This might be the quickest and easiest way.

As I drive, there is a clamor in my brain, but one set of facts rise to the top. There’s a ton of bad blood between Carter and Ed Wagner. Carter blames Ed for Chloe’s death, and he judges Ed because of his failure to see his son since Chloe’s death. And on the other end, Ed even accused Carter of sending him to jail.

I don’t know what the whole and complete truth is, but this situation just seems sad. Noah’s a child who has lost his mother, who barely knows his father. I know that Carter’s desperate to protect his nephew, but is it right to keep a child from his father?

Of course it is,
a voice rebukes me. Not all parents deserve to be parents. It’s a genetic lottery, not a measure of worth. Plenty of people who are kind and good, who long with futile desperation for a child of their own, aren’t lucky enough to have their wishes for children come true. Conversely, there are people who should have never become parents. Lady Luck is capricious and willful, and life isn’t always fair.

I don’t know what to think. I don’t know if my mind is clouded because of my overpowering attraction to Carter and Dominic. Two days ago, as I’d driven to Bulldog’s, I’d had the same doubts I’m having now. Are they worth listening to?

I wish I knew more. I wish I could figure out why Ed took Noah, and what he really wants.

But the time for wishing is past. I’ve arrived at the address that Bulldog texted me. There’s a pink neon sign of a margarita glass in the window of the restaurant, and next to it is a green neon cactus. The universal sign for a Mexican restaurant.

I have reached my destination. Bulldog’s guards signal me to stop in the parking lot, and I roll down my window. They shine a flashlight in my face, then they nod and step aside. Security’s tighter tonight, another thing that frays my nerves.

But I force it all to the background. The game is upon me. It’s now time to go and play, and tonight, it’s time to win, and win big.

E
d’s
already there when I arrive. He greets me with an uncharacteristically wide grin. “Hey there,” he says to me.

Well, that’s different. He hasn’t ever been this friendly. “Hey,” I reply. I remember I’m supposed to be pissed that he took off yesterday without telling me. “So what happened last night?” I ask him. “You sort of disappeared on me.”

He looks apologetic. “Sorry about that,” he replies. “I got a phone call. My son’s babysitter had an emergency, and I had to go watch my kid while she dealt with it.”

My son’s babysitter. My skin prickles with excitement. This is the first time he’s mentioned Noah, the first time he’s ever actually volunteered any information on his own. “You have a son?”

“Yup. Is that going to make you stop flirting?” He smiles as he asks the question, but he’s not worried about my answer.

Alarm bells have been chiming dimly in my head ever since his first warm greeting, but they rise in volume now. Something’s off. Bulldog calling me as early as he did, Ed’s unusual friendliness. “No, of course not,” I wink, stalling for time. “Ready to play?”

“Sit next to me,” he invites. “You can be my good luck charm.”

It’s poker, not a game of dice, and we’re playing for the same pot of money. Ed’s words don’t make any sense. But I smile and nod as if every word he says is fascinating, and I inch close to him. I don’t know the entire situation between Carter and Ed. But I can’t afford the luxury of doubt. When Noah’s back home, I can reassess the situation, but right now, I have to do everything in my power to locate that little child so that he can be reunited with Carter.

I
’ve never played a more
distracted round of poker. My mind is pulling me in a thousand different directions. Ed’s thigh periodically grazes mine, and every single time this happens, it takes conscious willpower not to stiffen and pull away, but to lean into his body and do my own touching and flirting. The dealer watches us with curious eyes, but I ignore him and everyone else. I have to convince Ed Wagner that I’m into him.

At the cigarette break, Ed turns to me. “Want to get out of here?” he asks. “Take this somewhere more private?”

This is it. We are finally going to track Noah down. I should be filled with triumph, but my stomach churns, and I feel a sick sense of fear.

I push back my nerves.
Not now, Gabby,
I tell myself.
Focus.
I’ve played in a thousand high stakes poker games in my life and I haven’t flinched away, but the stakes are even higher now. My palms are cold and clammy, and my skin is covered in goosebumps. I take a long gulp from the can of club soda that I clutch in my hands, and I will myself to smile.

“You are going to miss a few rounds of poker on my behalf?” I say, keeping my tone light and flirty. “I think I’m flattered.” I flutter my eyelashes. “When you say private…”

“I mean my bedroom,” he interjects bluntly. He runs his hand up, from my hips to my waist, then he pulls me close to him. “Have I been misreading the signals? Are you a tease, Gabriella?”

I giggle like a silly child. “Guys usually buy me a drink first,” I stall. Why am I stalling? But something about this moment feels wrong and forced. Ed was entirely disinterested the first day, and he walked out on me after kissing me yesterday. This eager pawing is an about-face, and I don’t trust it.

“There’s a bottle of rum in my apartment,” he says. He pulls a set of car keys from his pocket. “Coming?”

“Why don’t I follow you in my own car?” I ask him.

He shakes his head. “I’ll drop you back,” he promises.

His eyes are starting to get wary again, and he’s probably wondering why someone who threw themselves at him yesterday is so reluctant to play ball today. I can’t delay this anymore. If he spooks, we might never find Noah.

But I can’t also ignore my feeling that something is very wrong. On a sudden impulse, I lean towards Ed. “Let’s do this,” I say. “But I need to go to the bathroom first.”

“Sure. Why don’t I get your purse from Bulldog while you use the ladies? I’ll meet you at the restaurant entrance.”

Fuck. That’s one tentative plan cut off. I was going to call Carter from the bathroom and ask for instructions. Now, I can’t insist on my purse without raising Ed’s suspicions.

I make my way to the ladies’ room and sit on the toilet, my head in my hands.
Think, Gabby,
I urge. How can I communicate to Dominic and Carter that something is possibly wrong?

Then it comes to me like a bolt out of the blue. The tracker. It’s stuck on the inside of my shoe, where it’s been chafing my skin all evening long. I pull it out and contemplate the tiny electronic device. I can’t smash it with my heels - that noise might be heard from the outside. But I can flush it down the toilet, and though I’m sure that it’s well constructed, the gadget won’t survive being immersed in water.

If the tracker goes dead, will that give Dominic and Carter enough of a message that I think something’s wrong? I remember the worry on both their faces as I drove away. Yes, I think it will.

That’s what I do. I hop off the seat. Closing my eyes and saying a little prayer, I flush the button-shaped device into the toilet. Then I open the stall, eyeing my reflection in the mirror as I wash my hands. I look tense. Hopefully, Ed confuses that with lust.

Opening the door, I smile brightly at Ed Wagner, who’s waiting right outside, holding my handbag in his hands. “I’m ready,” I tell him. “Shall we?”

I can’t shake the feeling that I’m walking into a trap, and as soon as we get into Ed’s beat-up pickup truck, my hunch is confirmed.

Because Ed Wagner is turned towards me, and there’s a gun in his hand, pointing straight at my head. “Tell me, Gabriella Alves,” he says. “Who are you working for?”