Chapter 12
AMELIA
Seventeen on the table. Running count is plus four.
“Hit,” I said with the cool confidence of someone who was about to walk out of the casino with my brother’s freedom.
The dealer eyed me with suspicion as the pit boss circled behind me.
I stretched and curled my fingers, trying to break the habit of tapping my knee with the finger that corresponded to the count. Getting made was the last thing I wanted tonight.
My spine stiffened as the pit boss froze behind me, studying my chips. The Four Horsemen wasn’t a high-dollar casino. Well, unless you were in the elusive high roller room. Whenever someone showed up to play in there, everyone else got kicked out.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as the pit boss circled the table again.
It probably looked strange for a thirty-something who drove a decades-old car to be betting in the ten thousands, but I didn’t care about flying under the radar tonight.
I needed a fast game, high bets, and good hands.
The antsy look that the dealer shared with the pit boss gave me pause. Maybe I should cash out and go to the bar for a drink or lose a little at craps.
But if I win big just one more time . . .
Nope. I wasn’t listening to that little voice. I couldn’t be emotion-driven.
Every year during professional development at Alcott, I had to detail my “why.”
Why was I passionate about teaching?
Why did I want to be in my field of expertise?
Whys could be emotional. But that’s where emotion had to end.
How couldn’t be emotional.
I was here because of Joel. That was my why. It’s what kept my ass glued to this seat no matter how much I wanted to run. But how I got him out of his predicament had to be cold and calculated.
I needed to stop after this hand. I needed to get something from the bar and pretend to drink it. I needed to cash out most of what I had won in case I needed to make a quick escape. And then I needed one more win.
I chanted the count in my head as the next round began.
And then the dealer shuffled and added another deck of cards.
Dammit.
Now the count was back at zero and I was betting blind.
Either the universe was against me in the eleventh hour, or the dealer and the pit boss were onto me.
Fuck it.
I bet five grand, held my breath, and hoped for the best.
Queen of hearts. Dammit.
Fury skittered up and down my arms as I watched five grand be taken away from me.
I wasn’t doing that again.
Bar. Regroup. New count. Win big.
I opened my mouth to excuse myself when a shadow flooded the table.
“Ma’am, do you drive a silver sedan with Connecticut plates?”
I looked up to find Jude towering over me with a grim look on his face.
“Yes?” I said as I picked up the casino-issued tray that held my chips and eyed the cashier’s cage.
The line was a little backed up, but waiting would give me time to cool down.
Delaying my big win by an hour or so wouldn’t be the end of the world, but losing it all because I got too emotional would be.
“Your car is about to be towed. You might want to go move it.”
“Dammit!” I froze and clenched my eyes shut. I never had outbursts like that. “This is not my night,” I huffed.
I glanced at the line to cash out. If I waited in line, my car would get towed. I wouldn’t be able to make it back to New Haven in time to get Joel the rest of the money. But I also didn’t want to carry chips around, especially because it was already dark.
“If you’re concerned about your safety, I’ll walk you to your vehicle and back,” Jude said with annoyance in his voice.
I didn’t have time to hesitate, and I wasn’t about to look the gift horse in the mouth. I nodded, dumped my chips in my bag, and left the tray on the table.
Jude’s hand was warm but firm on my back as he ushered me through the crowd.
“It’s busier than usual tonight,” I said.
“Gets that way during the summer,” he said before catching the eye of the man watching the door. “I’m going on a smoke break.”
Either the guy didn’t care that Jude was stepping out of the casino for a cigarette he wasn’t going to have, or Jude was high up enough that his word was law.
“How long have you worked here?” I asked as we rounded the block and my car came into view. I had parallel parked on a side street that didn’t have any restrictions, so I wasn’t sure why it was at risk of being towed. There wasn’t even a tow truck idling nearby.
His hand was steady as he led me down the sidewalk, looking left and right to make sure no one was lying in wait to rob me. His fingers flexed on my back—like he was antsy but trying to stay in control. “Long enough.”
I snorted. “Okay. Cryptic.”
I hit the unlock button on my key fob. “I’ll just be a minute,” I said as I yanked open the door.
Something cool, damp, and sickeningly sweet hit my face as my back slammed into Jude’s chest. Chips spilled from my bag—tap, tap, tapping on the ground as I tried to turn.
The click of each one hitting the asphalt and rolling away was more sickening than whatever soaked the rag covering my nose and mouth.
I opened my mouth to scream “No!” as the payment for Joel’s freedom spilled from my bag, but the rag pressed further into my mouth.
Jude—
Is Jude okay? Is he being mugged too?
The world spun. I was weightless. Floating.
And then everything went black.
Consciousness came back in shattered fragments.
I didn’t know how long I had been out.
I didn’t know where I was.
I didn’t know who had done it.
I had a strong suspicion that I was in a car and that we were moving.
I was fairly certain that I had been abducted.
And I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I was going to throw up.
I hunched forward as my stomach seized, trying to force everything that was in my stomach to vacate the premises, but nothing came out.
Light danced in my periphery as the corners of my vision began to clear. Waking up felt like the worst freshman-year hangover. Like cheap liquor, regret, and an eight a.m. class.
I had only felt this way a handful of times, but this one put them all to shame. The migraine was instantaneous. Oh my god. Had I hit my head?
Where’s Jude?
Back at the Four Horsemen?
Surely he’d called the cops or something.
My stomach lurched and my body followed, but something stalled my momentum as I dry heaved.
Okay. I was sitting up. At least I wasn’t in the trunk of a car.
I pressed my hand to my chest and felt a strap. Seatbelt.
My hands weren’t bound.
I wiggled my ankles. My feet weren’t bound either.
That was interesting . . .
Bile rose in my throat, burning and abrading me from the inside out. I clapped my hand over my mouth as the car’s acceleration slowed, putting more pressure on my body as the seatbelt held me back. Taillights flashed ahead in a haze of red and black.
Still nighttime, and I’m sitting in the front seat.
I tipped to the side as the car skated the curve of an exit ramp. I blinked to try to clear my vision, but it was fruitless.
Was I drugged? I must have been. Right? The cloth . . . The sweet odor . . .
I heaved again, but this time there was a rustle.
“Don’t throw up in my car.”
The annoyed voice was familiar but distant, like he was shouting from a thousand yards away. A plastic bag touched the back of my hand. I grabbed and held it open around my mouth just in time to lose the contents of my stomach.
At least throwing up made me feel the slightest bit better.
I sat back against the seat and let out a slow breath as I clutched the bag with one hand and rubbed my eyes with the other.
I didn’t know where I was or where I was being taken, but I wasn’t about to lose at the eleventh hour. I needed to make a new plan.
. . . Just as soon as my head stopped swimming.
My vision began to clear, and I spotted signs directing cars to airport parking, rental lots, and terminal drop-off.
An airport? Were we still in New Jersey?
My stomach didn’t give me an ounce of warning this time. I jerked forward, throwing up into the bag again.
Definitely worse than a hangover.
I chanced a peek out of the corner of my eye and froze.
That’s why the voice was familiar.
Jude was in the driver’s seat of a swanky electric car that was way outside of my pay grade.
I was half tempted to throw the bag of vomit at him. Considering I didn’t have anything else to fight with, it was a decent weapon choice.
His jaw was set in a hard line. His eyes never strayed from the road. He kept his hands exactly at ten and two and never went more than two miles over the speed limit. He used his blinker with each turn and, frankly, drove like a grandma.
“You drugged me,” I rasped as I looked around. “Where’s my bag?”
Jude never took his eyes off the road. “At your feet.”
I swallowed. “Where are you taking me?”
“Airport,” he said as he pulled into a long-term parking lot.
I gathered that much.
The glow of overhead lights danced across the car as Jude drove between the rows of cars.
Jude pulled into a vacant space beside a vehicle shrouded beneath a canvas cover to protect it from the weather. He put the car in park and, for the first time since I awoke in the passenger’s seat, looked at me.
“If you want to live, don’t run. Don’t make a scene. Do exactly as I say.”
I swallowed the grotesque taste of vomit and fear. “Are you going to kill me?” The question was a broken whisper, but it was the best I could do.
“I don’t want to.” His answer was emotionless, and that, in itself, was utterly terrifying.
The truth lingered in what he didn’t say: I will if I have to.
He cut the engine. “Do not run, Amelia. Do exactly as I say.”
I was pinned down by a seatbelt and fear.
Jude just stared, waiting for me to agree. But I wasn’t going to agree. He knew who I was. I had told him my real name the first time I went to the Four Horsemen. But I quickly realized that I had absolutely no idea who the scary hot guy from the casino truly was.