Page 20 of Bound to Him
“Thank you, Mr. Bouchard,” Derek said with his wide, white smile, and I nodded.
“Much obliged.”
He let out a good-natured laugh, and the door on the side of the large glass box was opened by one of the men who had been on the outside of the third-floor entrance when we’d arrived. The skinny man and the beat-up chubby guy went inside, and each took a seat.
“These fucks owe me three hundred thousand each.” Derek flashed his teeth and there was a laugh that ruffled around the room. That was pocket change to everyone here. I hated things like this and hadn’t seriously planned to come tonight, but now that we were here, I wanted Noah to see this world, see that actions had consequences, as well as allow the men who’d lost money to his father to see him at my side. They needed to know anyway that I was on my way to doing something about the situation. I went back to Noah and dropped into my seat. He stared at me with wide eyes.
The room went quiet and Derek held up a hand in thanks. “The game, as you all know, is simple. The first man who dies loses. The other man walks away debt free.” He grinned. There was a roar as Derek handed the gun to one of his men, who took it inside the glass box and gave it to the poor chubby sap sitting on the black chair. Derek’s bruiser quickly backed away and closed the door before locking it from the outside.
“The glass is bulletproof, so don’t worry about your belongings,” Derek said, pointing to Noah at my side with a wink. I laughed at the small growl that came from him. “Each man takes a turn pulling the trigger and then passes the gun,” Derek said, as if anyone wouldn’t have figured out how it worked by now. The skinny man on the red seat had his eyes squeezed shut and his hands cupped under his chin in what appeared to be prayer.
“Oh my fucking God,” Noah said with a gasp and glanced at me. “This is murder.”
I shrugged. “Technically they agreed. I don’t know if you can call it murder. If they didn’t agree, Derek would’ve killed them both. This way someone lives.”
“Why didn’t you call the pol—”
I slapped a hand over his mouth and stared directly into his eyes. “Do not say that here. You’ll get us both killed.”
He nodded, eyes wide. Carefully I removed my hand, making sure he realized he couldn’t say the P-word. “How is this a betting game?”
“To win you have to pick the chair color and bullet number. All the winners split the pot. The house keeps half the proceeds for the trouble of setting up the game. All a bet requires is something for it to be on.”
Derek tapped the glass to signal the beginning of the round. The cute chubby man in the black chair put the muzzle to his head, closed his eyes, and pulled the trigger. A piss stain spread out on the pants of the man in the red chair when nothing happened, and he took the gun. We watched as the men passed the gun back and forth. Each time the thin man on the red chair took the gun, I tensed because I’d picked him as the favorite. On skinny’s second turn, there was a muffled shot and red spatter on his side of the box. My heart hammered and I shuddered. I’d seen this in the past, but it didn’t get any easier. There were a few seconds of tense silence, then there was a roar of approval.
“Oh, I won,” I said, grinning at Noah.
He turned away from me and held a hand to his middle.
“Get over it. I didn’t invent the game or make those men promise Derek money they couldn’t provide.” I wasn’t sure why anger swiftly bit at me at his reaction; maybe he reminded me too much of the first time I’d seen something like this and realized that the world of high finances wasn’t much different from any other situation where bored men had too much fucking money.
We stayed back as the seats emptied because I’d won, even though Noah looked ready to pass out. Two of Derek’s men followed behind us to carry bags of money to my car. I’d tripled my bet, even though there had been two other winners.
“Thanks, boys,” I said as I closed the trunk, and they nodded, going back to the casino at top speed.
The darkness was thick where we stood along the street. The cars that had been parked around us earlier were gone and the world felt extra lonely. Noah had his head bent against the roof of the Jag.
“Dinner?” I asked.
“No.”
“No?”
“Take me home,” he said, without lifting his head.
“You’re in no position to—”
“Take me home,” he said quietly. When he glanced up, my stomach fell. I’d obviously fucked up. I’d thought since he was a spoiled little rich brat, he’d seen... maybe not this, but things like it in the past, or had heard about things like this. New Gothenburg wasn’t any worse than any other city, and I’d witnessed much more fucked-up betting than what went on tonight.
“Okay. Get in.” I unlocked the doors, and he nearly fell into his seat.
We didn’t talk on the way back to Vert Island. He stared at the black water as we crossed the toll bridge that took us from the mainland to our corner of the earth. When I pulled up in front of my house, he got out without a backward glance and practically ran as if the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels. At least he went in the front doors, though, and didn’t try to flee into the night.
I dropped my head to the steering wheel. Yeah, I’d been trying to scare him some, but not enough to have him actually terrified of me. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I snarled, then got out. I gave myself the pleasure of slamming the car door and chased after him into the house.
It was a bit of a surprise to find him on the red carpet in my bedroom. It looked like he’d made it in there before his legs gave out, and he had his knees pulled up to his chest, holding them tight.
“I’m wearing those horrible underwear with all the buttons,” he said, eyes too wide. “In case you were planning to kill me if I wasn’t. They’re wedding white, that’s what the packaging said. Wedding.” He laughed and dropped his forehead to his knees.
