The Queen’s Gambit
THE QUEEN’S GAMBIT
Evelyn
The first thing I became aware of when I woke up, other than the fact I was tied to a chair, was the pounding inside my skull.
Then in a rush, everything came flooding back to me. The ambush on the street… being dragged from the vehicle… the butt of a gun coming down hard on my head.
Then nothing, until I’d woken up here.
I scanned the stark interior, willing my eyes to adjust to the dim light. An epileptic bulb hung from the ceiling. It reminded me of another naked bulb in another warehouse where Dante had interrogated me.
That had been the start of everything, but this felt like the end.
My vision was clear, so I didn’t think I had a concussion, or if I did, it was a mild one.
The place was empty, apart from a pile of crates stacked at one end with faded shipping labels on them.
Given that it smelled of river water mixed with oil and rusted metal, and nearby I could hear water slapping rhythmically against pilings, I surmised I was being held in a warehouse near the docks.
I tried to move my hands, anchored to the wooden arms of the chair, but the plastic ties bit into my wrists.
They had been pulled tight and didn’t leave much wriggle room.
In addition, the watch Dante had given me had a crack on the face and the timer had stopped working. It must have been broken in the ambush.
Would the tracker inside still work?
Panic clawed at my throat and I forced myself to breathe. To think. Who could have abducted me and why?
The most obvious answer was Los Santos Rotos, the Colombian cartel; however, the masked men who’d taken me had American accents, I was sure of it. I’d heard them shouting at me to get out of the SUV.
They hadn’t been Russian either, which ruled out Sergei, who I knew was an arch enemy of the Marcellis. Not that I thought the art collector would kidnap me, this wasn’t his style. Way too messy.
From what I knew about the Russian oligarch, he was sophisticated and classy. He liked the classics, art and architecture. Sure, he could have hired thugs to do his dirty work for him, but why? Mikhail could have taken me at the gallery if Sergei had really wanted him to.
No, this wasn’t them either.
So who on earth—
My thoughts were cut short by footsteps crunching on gravel outside. They got louder as the person came closer, and my heart began racing. A lock clanged and the steel door swung slowly inward.
I blinked, straining to see who my captor was. All I could see was a silhouette emerging from the darkness. He was tall, well dressed, in a style that was… familiar.
My stomach dropped.
No way.
“Hello, Evelyn,” a cultured British voice said.
I gasped. “Vincent?”
He stepped fully into the light, and for the first time since I’d known him, the carefully polished charm was gone. No warm smile. No easy sophistication. His face looked harder somehow, stripped down to something bitter and ugly beneath the refinement.
“What are you doing here?” I stammered, my gaze dropping to the gun in his hand. It was so out of context that my sluggish brain didn’t connect the dots right away.
Then it hit me like a freight train. I’d told him I was meeting Leo this morning. That’s how he’d known where I’d be. Nobody else other than Dante and Leo knew.
“Oh my God.” My voice cracked. “You hired those guys to kidnap me.”
Vincent said nothing.
“Why?” I whispered, staring at him. I was so freaking confused. “You work for the Marcellis. Did they put you up to this?”
Was this their way of getting rid of me? The liability. Make it look like a kidnapping gone wrong?
I was spiraling, my mind conjuring up a million scenarios, none of which ended well.
Vincent smirked. “My, you really do have trust issues if you think Dante Marcelli would hire me to have you murdered.”
I fixed him with a stare.
“Especially since you’re in bed with them now, if you’ll excuse the lurid pun.” He chuckled at his own joke.
The pain in my head was intense, and I closed my eyes against it.
“I don’t understand,” I murmured, waiting for the worst of it to pass.
It was too much. Being kidnapped—again—tied up, and having a pounding headache.
I felt hot tears prick behind my eyelids, but I squeezed them shut harder, determined not to let the tears fall.
I wasn’t going to give this weasel the satisfaction.
“If it wasn’t them, then why am I here? What do you want with me?” I asked, slanting a look at him.
“I don’t want anything with you,” he said, gesturing with the pistol. “It’s the Marcellis I’m interested in.”
That’s when the pieces began falling into place. Vincent was using me to get to Dante, because he cared about me. At least, Vincent thought he did.
I gave a forlorn sniff. “If you think I can influence Dante in any way, you’re wrong. I mean nothing to him. He told me so himself just yesterday.” I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my voice.
For a moment, the confident gleam in Vincent’s eye vanished, replaced with concern. Then he regained his composure. But I’d seen it.
“He told me I’d served my purpose and that it was over between us. In fact, he was going to move me out of his apartment today, except you got in the way of that.”
I could tell he didn’t know whether to believe me or not.
“Nonsense,” he said after a beat. “I saw the way he looked at you at the charity gala, like he’d eat any man alive who came near you.
Why do you think I kept my distance? Dante Marcelli has a possessive streak, which I’m sure you know.
Once something is his, he doesn’t give it up.
Ever. If you think you’re fooling me with your little act, you’re wrong. ”
My heart sank. Not because I was lying, but because I wasn’t.
“That was then,” I said in a weak voice. “Things have changed.” Dante wouldn’t be coming for me because he didn’t care.
“You’re wasting your time,” I told Vincent, my voice hollow. “He feels nothing for me. In fact, you’re probably doing him and his family a favor by taking me off their hands.”
He scowled. “That remains to be seen.”
I fell silent, studying him. He looked worried, like something I’d said might have hit a nerve. What did he want the Marcellis to do, anyway? What was his objective?
I cast my mind back to the current turf war between the Bratva and the cartel—exacerbated by the Marcellis, of course. By me. I was also complicit in this.
It had been me who’d spoken to Mikhail and told him about the harassment from the Colombians. I’d voiced my concerns over the new customer who’d come to the gallery. I’d told him about the break-in at my apartment and the shooting in the underground garage.
But I hadn’t told Vincent any of that.
He was the Marcelli money-man. The one who laundered their drug money and used my gallery, along with other small businesses, to do it.
Then a thought struck me. If he was providing that service for them, who’s to say he wasn’t doing it for other criminal organizations too?
Maybe he was freelancing. He knew enough about the Marcellis’ business to be a threat.
They trusted him. Valentina trusted him.
She’d never suspect him of double-crossing her.
Except here he was holding a gun on me.
“You were working for the Colombians too, weren’t you? You gave them the shipment information, you made the call from Alberto’s landline to make it look like he was the leak. You sold out the Marcellis.”
“Smart girl,” he said with a slow smirk. “I always liked that about you.”
“How could you?” I rasped out the words, fury overtaking my fear. “They trusted you. You’re old friends.”
He tilted his head. “You shouldn’t assume things, Evelyn. Have I taught you nothing?”
I stared at him.
“The Marcellis were using me, just like they were using you. To clean their money. To give them respectability. But it’s all a farce.”
“So you sold them out to the Colombians?”
“They paid handsomely for the intel.”
“What makes them any better than the Marcellis?” I asked.
“Well, their money, for one. They have a lot more of it. Also, they want to take over the gallery and are looking for a new owner. I hate to break it to you, Evie, but you’re on the way out.”
Rage was replacing the pounding in my head, easing the pain. “So you’re going to take over my gallery?”
“With the Marcellis out of the way, it’ll be plain sailing. The Colombians will have a seamless route to bring their merchandise into the country, and I’ll make a lot of money helping them do it.”
“You’re despicable,” I spat.
He laughed. “You’re too sensitive. Money is money. It’s all the same. Why shouldn’t I play them off against each other? If you had any brains, you’d be doing the same thing yourself, but you had no idea what was going on under your very nose.”
I was so angry I was shaking. I may not have known back then, but I was a different person now. Dante had made sure of that.
I’d stepped out of my world and into his. My eyes were wide open now, and there was no going back.
“How are you going to get them to back off?” I asked.
He smiled darkly. “That’s where you come in.”
An icy chill sliced through me.
“You’re going to call your demon lover and tell him I have a gun to your head. Then you’re going to tell him to back off and leave the gallery alone. No more games. No more manipulation. No more trying to turn the Russians against the cartel.”
I gasped.
He smirked. “Thought I didn’t know about that, eh?”
How had he known? We hadn’t told anybody.
Did that mean the Colombians knew too? Shit. Would they go after the Marcellis now?
He must have clocked my anxious expression because he chuckled again. “Don’t worry, I haven’t told my Colombian associates yet, and there’s no need to—if he plays ball.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then the streets of Manhattan will run red with Marcelli blood,” he promised.
I felt ill. The Marcellis had no idea about Vincent, that he’d betrayed them. That he’d caused the death of their men.