High Stakes (21 page)

The sound of something being thrown on the floor. “You heard what he said. Shut the fuck up and fill it!”

My dad. They’ve got my dad by his throat and my body fills with lead, because I know what’s going to happen. I’m powerless to stop it.

“Don’t kill him!”

My legs take me in front of him. I can almost feel my bare feet on the cold wooden floors, even though I know I’m curled up under the table with my head buried in my arms, shaking like a leaf.

“Fucking bitch! I told you to give me your purse or I’ll put a bullet in your fucking head!”

The voice bellows right into my ear and I cringe away from it, not knowing what’s real and what’s not. My chest is so incredibly tight that I can’t draw breath, even though I try hard. It’s like trying to breathe through a straw. My limbs are frozen. I open my eyes and I see dirty carpet. I can feel something hard digging into my head.

“You guys know who you’re robbing?” Nicky’s voice asks.

“I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

It digs into my skull.

“Hurry the fuck up, bitch!”

A boot suddenly kicks out, connecting hard with my ribs. It knocks the air out of my lungs and my body flips over. I see a masked man leaning over me. I’m staring into the nozzle of a gun. Swift, speeding death is right in those two black holes, seconds away.

The purse is near my hand. Just give him the fucking thing. It seems like such a simple action, but he’s screaming in my face and I can’t move a muscle. There’s nothing but terror squeezing the life out of me.

A door opens suddenly—the bathroom. One of the players emerges. The noise startles one of the gunmen and he swings his 20-gauge shotgun. The blast seems to slam into my ears, shattering my hearing. I open my mouth and noise comes out, but I can’t hear it. There’s more gunfire.
CRACK. CRACK.
I’m lying on the carpet, my ear against the carpet as my whole body convulses with the shots. Their legs run as bags of cash bounce on their thighs.

“FUCK!”

A harsh cry of pain makes me jerk my head. I see Nicky rolling on the floor, holding his leg, which has been shot. The door bounces open and strewn in the room I see at least two bodies.

Save him. Help him.

I see myself getting up, running to the bathroom to get towels that’ll slow the bleeding. From above, I watch as I wrap them around his leg and he asks me if I’m all right, but I can’t speak. I’m not even in my own body.

“Call Vince,” he says. “Do it!”

Blood is soaking through the towels and I watch as one of the guard returns. “We got one of them, Nicky.”

“Take the car. Get rid of the body, now,” he says in a strained voice. “We need Vince over here. Adriana!”

He yells, his round face ugly and violent. Finally, I see myself standing up and walking calmly towards my discarded purse. It’s then that I notice my hands are completely covered in Nicky’s blood.

Fuck.

Fuck.

A spike of terror finally stabs my brain, ripping me back inside my body. I feel the numbness in my limbs, the wide-eyed panic, and I dig through my purse to get the phone. It slips in my hand with all the blood. I scream a frustrated cry as I unlock the phone and call Vince.

“
Hey, baby. What’s up?
”

The wave of relief I feel from hearing his voice knocks down the walls I’ve built up. I can’t manage anything but a wordless sob.

“What’s wrong?”

“Take the fucking phone from her!”

Someone yanks it out of my grasp and speaks into the receiver and I slump on the floor. Nicky screams into the phone.

“Cock-sucking motherless fucks robbed us. Killed Jimmy and we got two of them. One escaped. She’s
fine
. I’m the one who got shot!”

I can’t let go of the panic I’m feeling. Any moment, they’re going to come right back inside and finish us off. I watch the door as they drag the bodies out, flinging them into a trunk of a car. At least the store is in a secluded area.

A couple of them kneel next to me, asking me over and over if I’m all right.
No, I’m not fucking all right
. They snap their fingers in front of my face, but I don’t move a muscle. The only movement I make is to wipe the horrifying sight of the blood all over my hands. I drag them over the carpet, over and over.

Get it off me. Get it off!

The sound of tires squealing outside makes my heart seize with hope. The sound of a car door opening and frantic footsteps—and then a tall man is silhouetted in the doorway. I see his whitened face, his eyes sweeping over the carnage before finally settling on me.

“Adriana!”

He runs over the bloodstains, ignoring Nicky as he stoops down next to me. His face—it’s the first time I’ve seen fear. His lips are shaking as he looks up and down my body.

“Are you hurt?”

“No,” I finally moan. It’s like a switch flips and I’m so relieved he’s here. Everything will be fine, now that he’s here. I’m saved.

Nicky yells in a strangled voice. “A little fucking help over here?”

Vince kisses my forehead. Satisfied that I’m unhurt, he turns towards Nicky. I want to scream for him to come back to me.
Don’t leave me
.

Everything happens so slowly in front of my eyes, but I don’t pay attention. The cards litter the carpet like confetti, except there’s blood soaking through them. I want to vomit. I want to leave.

Finally, he takes me by the arm. It’s hard for me to move, much less stand, but Vince wraps his arm around my waist.

“Let’s go home.”

My fingers dig into his arm when we step outside. I cringe and bury my face into his shoulder, fully expecting to be gunned down at any second. Vince almost has to get a crowbar to pry me off his arm.

Once we’re back at his place, I can finally breathe. As soon as the door closes, he pulls me into his chest and wraps his arms around me.

“I’m so sorry, Ade. I should have never let you go to those other games.” The tightness in his voice is a small testament of the emotions he kept buried.

After nearly an hour, my heart rate is still jacked. I want to dive at every loud noise, and clinging to Vince is just about the only thing keeping me from losing my shit.

“I can’t do this.
I can’t do this!
” My voice rises with hysteria, and Vince tries to help by running his hands up and down my back.

“I hate myself for not being there to protect you.” His voice takes a violent turn. “When I find that piece of shit, I’ll tear him apart limb from limb.”

I feel his rage rumbling through his chest, feeding some of my anger. It horrifies me that I’m feeling so detached about their deaths.

They deserve it.

“Who were they?”

“I don’t know yet,” he says in a lower voice. “They probably had no idea who they were dealing with.”

Slowly, he walks me into the living room, where we sit down on the grey couch. Nerves still stinging with adrenaline, I bury my head in his neck and I try to relax. I try to focus on his chest rising and falling, the smell of him, so sharp and masculine. The sharp contours of his body.

The stress builds in my head and I feel like my skull might explode, and then I cry. It shames me to do it, but I cry into his shoulder as everything releases from me. All the pain, fear, and stress pour out of me and Vince holds me like he’ll never let me go.

“It’ll never happen again.”

“You’ve said that before.” I can hardly get the words out between my sobbing. Vince’s arms gently detach from mine, but his face is contorted with rage. He stands up, pacing the apartment with his hand on the gun at his hip, and suddenly he slams his fist into the glass wall. I hear the crunch of his fist and shudder as his hot gaze moves over me.

Nothing frightens me more than seeing Vince lose control. He seizes a glass sitting on the table and hurls it at the wall, where it smashes into millions of shards. His muscles ripple as he grabs a wooden chair by the island in his kitchen. With a scream of fury, he hurls it across the room where it scrapes over the wooden floor, ruining the beautiful hardwood. His chest heaves for a moment as he stares at the dry wall.

“
Vince
.”

Another inhuman sound erupts from his throat as he lashes out, his fist bursting through the drywall as a cloud of white dust sprinkles over his arm.

Maria was right all along. He’s a monster.

When he sees me staring at him, the confident, charming mask slides over his face and he takes a step towards me.

“No, don’t.” I bolt upright, dragging the blanket on the couch with me as if it’ll protect me from him. “I—I need to go.”

A flicker of the demon overshadows his face. “What?”

“You’re scaring me. I want to leave, now.”

“They robbed us!” he says with heat in his voice. “They shot one of my players for no fucking reason. You could have been killed! I have a right to be pissed. I’m not letting you leave.”

My mouth is dry as I look at him. We’re too different. The gulf between us stretches for eons. “I can’t do this anymore, Vince. This was a huge mistake.”

“No more card games,” he says in a soft voice.

Vince tries to take my hand, but I rip it from his grasp.

“No more people’s hands getting smashed, and me nearly getting killed. No more
you
.”

This time, he flinches like I struck his face. He stands there, reeling in shock before his features harden once more. “I know that you’re very upset, so I’m not going to yell at you right now.”

He takes another step forward and I automatically step back. Vince’s face broods with malcontent, and he suddenly lunges, grabbing my arm so that I’m against his body.

“I need to go out, and when I come back you better fucking be here.”

Under my confusion and fear I feel searing hot anger. “You do not own me,
Vincent
.”

“Yes, I do,” he says in a black voice.

His lips crash over mine and suddenly my back slams against the wall. It’s messy and violent. I’m furious, trying to shove him away but he pins me against the wall with his weight, holding my arms above my head as he lays stunning kiss after kiss on his mouth, and I soften against my will. His face millimeters from mine, he smiles slightly and I hate myself for the feelings it gives me.

This is toxic.

Then I’m clinging to his neck, as tears burst from my throat. He holds me and rubs my back as every aching sob shakes from my chest. All those times I cried myself to sleep whenever I had nightmares are gone, because he’s there to hold me.

“Please.”

I don’t know what I’m begging him for. I want him to leave. I want him to stay. I hate him. I love him.

His fingers dig into my head, but he lets me go, the darkness almost gone from his face. He almost looks like a little boy.

“I’ll be back soon.”

Vince’s arms fall from me and he strides back to the door to head out and do God knows what.

“What are you going to do?”

He pauses mid-step. “Find the guy and kill him.”

Jesus.

Another horrible thrill through my heart almost makes me pass out. “Don’t say that!”

“You asked.”

I look at him angrily, wondering why he’s pretending to be obtuse. “I’m not supposed to know.”

He gives me a sad smile. “It’s too late for all that, sweetheart.”

* * *

With Vincent’s suffocating presence gone, I’m able to think about things. I think about how I got myself into this monumentally fucked up situation. He says I can’t leave, but the front door is right there. I could run to my dorm and tell Maria about everything, but he would drag me right back to his apartment.

My finger pauses over my phone. I can just imagine Maria’s horrified face. What the hell do I do now? On top of everything, Mom keeps texting me, begging me for more money.

Please call me so I can scream at you.

It’s not my fault. It’s hers. She forced me into a corner, to the point of desperation where I actually took money from a monster.

What was I thinking?

Now he owns me. I can’t just leave.

I pace around his apartment, ripping open cabinets and drawers, rifling through their contents. What I’m searching for eludes me; I just need something to distract me. Maybe I’m trying to find evidence that he’s a good man. That I didn’t just forsake everything in my life for a man who’s bad for me. His CD collection has lots of Jazz and Blues; the few pictures in his house are of his mother, and people I identify as Nicky, Paulie, and the rest of his crew. None of his father, interestingly enough. I’m like a sponge, soaking up all this useless information about Vincent. His underwear drawer has mostly black briefs, but nothing else of interesting. Lots of suits in his closet. There’s a huge box of condoms in his nightstand.

“Having fun?”

I slam it shut, my heart thudding loudly as I wheel around and see a bloodied Vince leaning against the doorway of the bedroom, looking tired but bemused. There’s blood all over his white sleeves and I already know whose it is.

He killed someone tonight.

There’s a grin like the Cheshire cat on his face as he steps forward.

“Don’t! Get away from me.”

The smile disappears. Whatever bloodlust he had before, he purged it tonight. My sweet, charming Vincent stands in front of me with a hurt look on his face.

“What have I ever done to hurt you? I’ve only loved and respected you, paid for your school, protected you—”

You scare me.

“If you can hurt other people that easily, you could do it to me.”

“
Never
.”

He says it so forcefully that I know I’ve offended him. I’m cornered against the wall as he invades my space, his eyes forbidding.

“I watched my old man slap around my mother growing up. I’d never lay a hand on you, Adriana.” A sudden smile twitches on his face. “Not unless you wanted me to.”

My face flinches when he touches my cheek. His eyes are heavy with longing. Can’t he realize I’m cringing from his touch?

“I want to leave. Just let me go.”

A shadow crosses his face. “You can’t leave, Ade. I told you that in the beginning. I gave you a chance, but now it’s too late. I won’t let you go.”