Page 3 of Betting Blind

“So predictable,” I taunt with the knife still between my teeth as I watch him fumble for his own gun. My foot kicks up and knocks it out of his palm before he can take the safety off. “So do the two of you only have a few brain cells to share or are you new at this whole kidnapping gig?” I push my hair out of my face and realize that it is matted with blood and dirt.

“You bitch,” Hector growls and grabs me from behind. The sudden jerk causes me to lose my grip on the knife. I didn’t hear him get up. Sneaky bastard. His large arm tightens around my waist and his other hand fists in my hair, pulling my head back to rest on his chest. “You’re going to be a good girl and tell us where the next shipment is coming from.” His friend takes a slow, menacing step forward and rolls his shoulders. “Or Ty here is going to start cutting things. Got it?” Ty flourishes a large hunting knife, the metal blade glinting in the low light.

“Shipment for what?” I grit my teeth as he yanks hard on my roots, exposing my throat and chest to Ty and his wicked blade. “I’m a secretary for a business man that owns a few casinos. We don’t deal drugs.”

“I don’t believe you,” Ty says slowly and presses the sharp tip of the blade against my naked inner thigh. It pinches, but he doesn’t use enough pressure to break the skin.

I roll my eyes and silently curse myself for wearing a skirt and blouse combo out of the house this morning. “Well I’m not sure what to tell you boys.” Hector tightens his arms around me, and Ty drags the blade upward until it is hovering over the bottom hem of my black skirt.

I don’t fight. I don’t thrash. I don’t cry.

I wait. I watch. I play the game.

I don’t have many virtues left, but patience is one that I practice often. I calmly wait for an opening to take advantage of. “I schedule appointments, get coffee, and take calls and messages for Mr. Emerson. I literally sit at a desk for ninety percent of my day.”

Ty shakes his head, his dark eyes flashing. I can tell that he is smiling beneath his mask. The prick likes the challenge almost as much as I do. “Emerson is not the man he pretends to be, is he?” The blade moves up again, hovering just below the waistband of my skirt. “Just tell us what you know, and wemightleave you in one piece.”

“Your boss is going to be really disappointed that you kidnapped the wrong person and got no useful information, isn’t he?” I say, my voice teetering on the edge of a taunt.

“What makes you think we are working for someone else? Maybe we just want to take the risk and the reward,” Hector whispers from behind me. His hot breath tickles the side of my face. It reeks of nicotine and whiskey.

“Because…” I can’t help but smile. Ty registers the change a second too late. Making them talk always seems to lull them into a false sense of control, like my confusion is debilitating and I can’t make my brain function on anything other than understanding their motives. My hands come up above my head and grip Hector’s upper arm, and I use that leverage to kick out. The toe of my combat boot connects with Ty’s groin, and he doubles over. The knife hits the concrete floor with a loud clatter. A sharp pain in my thigh lets me know that I have also connected with the business end of his blade.

Without missing a beat, I throw my right elbow back into Hector’s solar plexus. He grunts and loosens his hand in myhair slightly. My left foot comes down and smashes against his foot and that gets him. Lesson number… I don’t even know at this point because I’ve lost count… Wear steel-toe boots. Stomped toes are a bitch.

Hector staggers back as I whirl around to face him. Something flashes in his eyes. It looks almost like panic. Bless his poor dead heart. I take the heel of my right hand and smack it quickly against his nose. Cartilage crunches and blood runs down his chin from under his mask. My next move is a swift kick in the balls. He slumps to the ground with a loud groan, both hands cupping between his legs. Thank you Miss Congeniality for that nifty tutorial.

“You two lack what it takes to actually pull off any form of heist. You couldn’t even steal a dollar from a blind man. You probably didn’t even do your research on your targets.” I state matter of factly and dust off my palms. Both men are still writhing on the floor at my feet.

Hector lifts his head and narrows his eyes, but it's Ty that finds his voice first. “You’re just an assistant,” he spits as he pulls off his mask, his voice no more than a broken whisper. Steel-toe boots to the balls are also a bitch.

I come around and connect the top of my boot to his face, silencing him. “I’m a fucking Queen,” I snap. His voice was starting to grate on my nerves. Hector groans and rolls onto his back, chuckling softly. “Where’d you find this guy?” I ask him, nodding to the unconscious Ty currently bleeding profusely from his nose. I bend down and retrieve Hector’s discarded gun, my fingers loosely curving over the grip and trigger. I point the barrel down at him as he pulls himself into a sitting position.

“Back alley of a bar. Said he was trying to get in with the big dogs and wanted a chance to play. Fuck,” he hisses and pulls his balaclava off, revealing his bald, tattooed head and full beard. He touches his fingers to his still-bleeding nose and groans. “He wouldn’t listen and made too many fucking mistakes.” His blue eyes are pinched and there is a thin sheen of sweat beading on his forehead. “Good thing I never want to have kids. Aim better next time, woman!”

A wide grin spreads across my face, causing the split in my lip to open again. I am covered in blood and sweat, but I can’t help the maniacal laugh that escapes me. “You’re right. He seemed dense enough to not realize that we were playing him.” I hold out my other hand and pull him to his feet. He towers over me as he stretches out his back. I pat his chest twice and toss him the gun, which he catches with ease. “But I just couldn’t resist. Now clean up this mess so we can get back to our actual business.”

He grins back and tips his head in my direction like a proper southern gentleman. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Chapter 2

Emelia

14 years ago

“Poker is more than just a game, gentlemen. Gambling is more than just throwing dice, stacking decks of cards on a table, or betting on the best thoroughbred to win. There is a certain skill to the way we play… an art.” His deep blue eyes narrow on the group of seven men sitting around the table. Most of these men seem to be in their late twenties or early thirties. They are dressed in various style suits, and some have even removed their jackets and draped them over the backs of the deep emerald chairs. They all look like Greek gods sitting around a poker table with smoke wafting through the dimly lit air from the cigars in their fingers.

Although one stands out among the others. He is wearing jeans and a black hoodie with the hood pulled over his head revealing only his sharp jawline and a slightly crooked nose. His eyes never leave the cards laid out on the table as the lecture drones on. It’s obvious that he feels out of place by the way he keeps shifting his weight and clenching his fists. He has no cigar in his fingers, but the smoke still finds a way to swirl around him ominously.

“There are many ways to gamble your life away, and you can trust that I’ve seen just about all of them. In our line of work, it’sall about placement and working the angles. It’s about knowing your opponent almost as well as you know yourself.” Diego’s deep baritone rumbles through the quiet space. He steeples his fingers in front of his chest and leans back against the dark burgundy wall.

One of the men lets out a groan and slaps his palms onto the soft green felt of the poker table. “Is this supposed to be a business meeting or a fucking poker lesson, Diego?” His chair drags lines into the thick carpeted floor as he pushes to his feet. “I know what I’m doing. I’ve been doing it for nearly twenty years now. Stop fucking wasting -”

Diego silences him with a look that would send even the devil shrinking. “There is a lady present, Carlo,” he snaps and jerks his head to the side where I’m currently sitting just a few tables away, sipping a pink Shirley Temple through a curly straw and watching every movement like a hawk. “Now. Sit. Down,” he says and clenches his jaw tight. His control is starting to slip, but he doesn’t want to show it. Carlo sinks back into his chair and fidgets with the lapels of his suit jacket.

“I assure you, that you have never done it quite like this before.” Diego’s eyes flash and he slides his hands into the pockets of his tailored, dark gray slacks. “We will get to the meeting agenda, but I wanted to make sure that everyone understands that this is very different from what you are used to. This is not a nine-to-five job where you clock out and go home at the end of the day.” Carlo shifts in his seat with his eyes down and doesn’t say another word.

“This is all in. There is no going back once you sign on. Like I said, this is more than just a game. This life, should you choose it, is exhilarating. It’s addicting. It’s dangerous.” Diego leans forward and his hands splay out across the table. He makes a point to look at each man’s face individually before picking up the cards and givingthem a flourishing shuffle. “Do you all understand that this is a one-way ticket and the only true way out is in a body bag?”

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