Chapter 29 #2
After finishing out the game, Vraj sat forward and reached for his glass of water. “Victory is sweet, but sharing it with you makes it sacred. Cheers, my friends.” He tipped the glass and took a sip.
We each reached for our own drinks to tilt in his direction.
Ted nodded happily and tilted his mimosa glass. “To effort, to togetherness, and to the joy of playing.”
More players exchanged statements of victory and relief.
Esteban reminded everyone that the tournament wasn’t over, only the game. “Let us meet back after lunch for the next game?” he suggested eagerly. The next game was to arrange aid to victims of the cyclone.
We agreed and stood up, ready to take a break and eat some lunch since all we’d had so far were a few pastries.
I moved back to the suite first to check in with Jett. As soon as I closed the suite door behind me, I realized he was pacing back and forth, running fingers through his hair until it was even messier than usual.
“It’s okay,” I said. “The only person who noticed me holding your hand was al-Qadiri, and he won’t—”
“I don’t care about the hand thing,” Jett interrupted. “That’s your rule, and I followed it to protect you.”
I moved closer to him and put my hands on his hips to stop his movement. “Then why are you so upset?”
He licked his lips. “Because al-Qadiri owns Malik Makida Ltd., Locke. I know it for sure, and—”
“Jett.” I squeezed him more tightly. “I told you, the horse thing is a stretch. Besides, I know al-Qadiri. He has been friends with my grandfather for years, even before he became a Paxis player. He’s known for his kindness and generosity. His integrity.”
Jett was already shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard to fathom about a… a friend. He handed his wife a note, and she looked upset. Like she was going to murder someone. And then—”
“You’re being dramatic. She looked like she wasn’t feeling well, I admit, but— Please sit down. You’re stressing me out.”
Jett closed his eyes and put his fingers over his eyelids as if gathering his patience. “Liyana left.” He moved to sit next to me, then turned on the small sofa to face me. “Whatever note he gave her caused her to call for her driver and leave the villa.”
I reached for his hand and pulled it up to drop a kiss on his palm. “Take a breath, Jethro. That doesn’t mean anything. She’s probably shopping. That’s what she’s known for at these tournaments.”
He turned his hand in mine and threaded our fingers together, squeezing firmly as if to make a point.
“Johnny. You know that I… that there are… ugh.” He took a deep breath and blew it out.
“I think you already have an idea that I’m…
not just a go-go dancer, right? So please believe me when I tell you that Malik Makida, Ltd.
is owned by al-Qadari. I know people. I… asked around.”
I felt the hot, unsteady flush of betrayal and dropped his hand like it was the sharp end of a knife. “You told someone about… Paxis? About what was going on here?” My voice was deadly, even though I was trying my hardest not to kill anyone. Yet.
“No. I swear. I haven’t spoken a word about that.”
“You just said you asked around. About Malik Makida Ltd. Who did you ask, Jett?” I took a breath and let it out. “Who did you break your NDA with, huh?”
“That’s not important.” He stood and began moving toward the door. “I just need you to believe me. And then we need to find out where Liyana went. Because my gut is screaming, and I really think she—”
“Stop,” I said.
He automatically halted and turned toward me the way he always did.
Something inside me wondered if maybe things weren’t completely fucked between us yet, even though I wanted to tear my hair out wondering what the fuck was going on.
“What’s your role in all of this? Who do you work for?”
Jett hesitated, and I could see the gears turning in his head. “I can’t tell you, but please believe you weren’t ever a target. I’m here because I wanted to be here. I wanted to be with you.”
I thought back to when I’d first encountered him. At the Candy Bar, when I’d only shown up there to give a dock boss a piece of my mind.
We’d met almost four years ago. I was the one who’d invited Jett here. In fact, at every single stage of our acquaintance after the Candy Bar, I’d been the one to pursue him.
The night at the steak house. The hotel bar in Amsterdam. Handing him my card on the airplane.
The indecent offer to come with me to Italy.
He’d initiated exactly none of it.
“Who is the target?” I asked in a low voice.
“No one. I told you, I don’t have a target. I’m here for you. I…” He huffed out a laugh. “I genuinely thought you were bringing me to a chess tournament.”
He looked regretful, sad, even a little scared.
“Are you in trouble?” I asked. “Do you need help? I can help you. Just tell me what’s going on.”
Jet shook his head firmly.
I imagined him under the thumb of one of the men who’d owned him before me. Someone who’d used him to gather information about other power players. Was that what this was?
“The explosion in the canal was an accident,” I blurted, breaking the rules of the game. “No one caused it.”
He slumped. “I know. I’m sorry I blamed you.”
“Wait, how do you know? Who’s your source? I don’t understand any of this.”
Jett’s arms flapped from his sides and back down again. “That makes two of us. You won’t tell me everything, and I can’t tell you anything.”
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and swiped it open. Before he even had time to read it, I was moving, lunging in his direction.
There was one message on his text screen.
You are in danger. Get out of the house now.
He wrestled me for the phone, but it was too late, and my arms were longer. “Who’s this text from, Jethro?” I growled, seeing it was from an unknown number.
“Come with me,” he said in a panicked voice. “We’ll both leave, and I’ll explain what I can. Please.”
I shook my head. “It’s my house. And I haven’t done anything wrong.”
This was a lie. I’d broken the rules of the game, just like al-Qadiri might have.
And every player knew the punishment for breaking the rules. Death.
I handed Jett’s phone back, suddenly tired of all of it. I hadn’t even made it through my first Paxis tournament before epically fucking up my grandfather’s legacy.
Whatever my fate was, I would face it the way I’d faced so many things already this year.
Responsibly. Honorably. Upholding the Maris legacy…
And alone.