Broken Like Me

Chapter 1

ONE

Who doesn't love a good goring?

LILA

Perhaps I’m part bull. Not only because of the way I’m built, but because I’m drawn to red.

More specifically, red flags. The bigger and redder the better.

If only I had the strength of a bull to match. Maybe the other half of my genealogy is a bird. Not a cool one like a falcon or an eagle. I’m probably like a turkey, just shuffling around in the dirt, waiting for the hunter to strike.

And boy did he this time.

I should have known Silas was a weasel the first time he winked at me. He was too sexy and far too charming. And the piece of bleepity-bleep made me break my number one rule—never trust a guy with dimples.

Dirty dimples. They’re my downfall every time. When will I learn?

No sense huffing about it now. At this point, the only way out of this mess is to push through.

I can do this.

The nauseating protein, veggie, and fruit smoothie I downed in the car stirs in my stomach, the sensation compounding my mounting dread.

Because if I fail . . .

Well, I’m not going to think about what will happen if I fail. Instead, I’ll do what I normally do and visualize the ending I’m striving for. I’m a manifestation expert. Been training for this my entire life.

Sure, it’s never worked before, as evidenced by my crudtastic life circumstances. However, I’ve never needed to succeed this badly. I’ll manifest my way into manifesting the perfect outcome or die trying.

Oof. Did I really just think the words die trying? Probably not the best phrasing, considering my best and only friend’s life is on the line.

Come on, Lila. It’s manifesting time.

I will save Kenzie. No matter what it takes.

I will.

I’ve flipping got this.

As I approach the building, my feet attempt to prove the ineffectiveness of my thoughts with faltering steps.

The tacky silver rings weigh heavily on my thumbs.

I wish I could have tossed them out of the car window when I drove over the bridge into Tampa on the way to work. But consequences and all.

Forcing myself to stop thinking about what the gaudy jewelry represents, I scan my badge and enter the casino’s employee door. A solid wave of air conditioning smacks me in the face, causing my eyes to flicker briefly.

Thanks to my guilty conscience, I’m afraid to open my eyes for a solid two seconds. What if someone sees the crimes I haven’t committed yet behind my shame-filled irises?

Sadly, I can’t work my shift with my eyes closed. Nor can I walk another step without falling flat on my face. By sheer force of will, I thrust them open and plaster on an easy smile.

Act naturally, Lila. No one has a reason to suspect that you’re about to help criminals steal thousands of dollars from your employer.

My favorite chatty security guard is working at the metal detector, and he beams as I approach the checkpoint. “Hiya, Lila. Do we have babies yet? I’ve been waiting.”

“Hey, Gus,” I offer casually, forcing a toothy smile.

And by casually, I mean manically with a cracking voice. I cover it by feigning a cough and eventually manage something passing as a nonchalant reply. “Not yet. Hopefully soon.”

“I want pictures as soon as they hatch.”

“I’ll do you one better and get videos so you can hear their adorable chirping.”

He winks and waves me through. “You better.”

The familiar interaction slows my pulse a bit. Bless him for the distraction. Gus is the only person in my life who enjoys hearing about my birding adventures.

Unfortunately, my relief is short-lived since his question reminds me I forgot to feed the neighborhood peacocks. I’ll just layer the failing-bird-mom guilt on top of all the other treacherous emotions rioting through me.

Get a grip, Lila.

Channeling my inner tough chick, I brush away those thoughts and visualize tonight going off without a hitch.

Manifest. Manifest.

Then manifest some more.

The sooner I get through this shift, the sooner I’ll get Kenzie back. Then this will all be a horrible, distant memory. If I keep thinking about her as their captive, I’ll never be able to focus enough to mark the cards.

After changing into my dealer black and whites in the locker room, I check the mirror and attach my name tag. Surprisingly, my hands aren’t shaking anymore.

Excellent. My positive focus is doing precisely what I need it to do. Everything’s going to be fine. Piece of cake.

I chuck my bag into my locker and start to close the door, but I catch it right before it clicks shut. My fingers swipe across my phone screen one last time.

I’m not looking for messages from Silas. I certainly don’t need a refresher of his veiled threats and secretly coded instructions. We’ve gone over the plan ad nauseam during the last week since they took my best friend. I know exactly what’s required of me.

Instead, I open my photo library. First, I pull up one of my favorites—it’s Kenzie and me, slightly tipsy and beaming brightly during the surprise party I threw for her thirtieth birthday last year.

A weary smile plays at my lips at the memory.

Next, I swipe to a different photo of her.

One that makes my veins congeal into a thick sludge of hopelessness.

Bloody lip. Black eye. Messy hair. Tear-soaked face.

How could they hurt an innocent woman like this?

Disgusting monsters.

If I ever figure a way out of this mess, at least I’ll have this photo as some sort of evidence to back up my story.

Silas and his cronies have been meticulous about not letting me have any proof that could implicate them. This blurry image is all I have. And I have it because the dirty-dimple-having weasel made a tiny error on the night I found him waiting in my living room.

The small picture of a battered Kenzie sat on my coffee table, proof of how serious they were.

He turned his back on me to take a phone call, leaving the Polaroid in front of me.

In a moment of either stupidity or brilliance, I opened the camera app on my phone and stealthily snapped this picture.

When he left that evening, he took the Polaroid with him.

All he left me were these rings, an earful of instructions, and a host of threats haunt my dreams every night.

I stare at the picture for a long few seconds, feeling my gut sink lower with each breath. It’s only the fiftieth time I’ve looked at her face today. Give or take a dozen.

Am I torturing myself or using it as motivation? Maybe a bit of both.

After swallowing around a jagged lump in my throat, I throw my phone in my bag and close my locker. No more time to waste. It’s felony o’clock.

The shift briefing is the standard fare. Nothing special happening in the casino tonight, which is fortunate. I do my best not to wince when my supervisor gives his customary reminders about what to look for to catch the cheaters. Tonight, I’d only need to glance in the mirror to catch a thief.

Willing thief or not, the prison time is the same.

My steps are heavy as I weave through the hallway. I swipe a road map off the counter to get my table assignment and break schedule. Oh bugger. Looks like I’ll be at one blackjack table for my entire shift since I’m not the relief dealer.

A blade of disappointment jabs me in the gut. If I were floating from table to table tonight, I’d have had a built-in excuse to delay this nightmare by another day. After all, Silas’ crew couldn’t expect me to mark the cards if I were only at a table for twenty minutes at a time.

Alas, I don’t have that excuse. Pity.

After tonight, I’ll be a criminal.

The only silver lining I can cling to is that my table assignment puts me another step closer to getting Kenzie back.

A soft voice shakes me from my doom spiraling. “You’re quiet today. You okay?”

I feign a smile at Kiona, aiming to appear natural but likely failing. She’s one of the other blackjack dealers coming on shift with me. She’s a sweet woman in her late twenties. Unlike me, she’s a member of the Seminole tribe that owns Oak Winds Casino.

“Oh, nothing.” As my incoherent response teeters through my mind, I quickly amend it. “I mean, I’m a bit tired. But it’s fine. This is fine. I’m fine.”

Terrific. I just memed myself.

Kiona chuckles melodically. It sounds natural and normal, so I use it to ground myself.

Thankfully, she lets me have my lie, and we make our way to our assigned tables.

After I set up my station and go through all the card and chip verification procedures, I fall into a groove.

My plan is to wait a few hands before I start marking the cards.

I’ve practiced the movement at home so much that I could do it in my sleep.

However, I won’t do it here until I’m more relaxed.

Last thing I need to do is get all jittery and draw the floorman’s attention.

After a few minutes, one of my regulars takes the next-to-last open seat at my table.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite brunette,” Keith drawls as he lowers his aging frame to the chair.

When I went through my red hair phase, I was his favorite redhead. And before that, I was his favorite blond.

I flash a beaming smile, genuinely happy to see him. Sweet elderly men are my catnip. “I’m only your favorite when you win.”

The old flirt winks at me as he slides a large stack of bills across the table toward me to cash in. “Well, any time I see you, I’m a winner.”

Keith’s so cheesy that he can’t stay out in the heat too long or he’ll melt.

I shake my head, my grin widening. “You’re shameless.

” Over my shoulder, I call out the buy-in to notify the floorman that cash is going into my drop box.

I slide the stack of chips over to Keith and clear my hands for the cameras, flipping them over and wiggling my fingers so the eye in the sky can see I’m not palming chips.