Poker Face (The Masks Series Book 4) (8 page)

Eric

I could tell I was in a state of shock by the numb way my body moved. Sullivan left after his bombshell with promises of making more calls, but there was a sad sense of hopelessness as he departed. The minute he walked away, Nicole ruptured into an unexpected display of tears. Dale pulled her onto his lap and held her tight, murmuring into her ear and making me more and more jealous. I knew it was ridiculous to feel that way, but I couldn’t help it.

For the first time ever, I had to question whether Caity would ever sit on my knee again.

The idea demolished me. I stalked back to my jeep and headed home. Nicole and Dale caught up to me, pulling in beside my car as I slammed out of it.

They were wise enough not to say anything. I stomped up the stairs and struggled to unlock the door.

“Do you want me to—”

“No,” I barked. “I got it.”

I swung the door open and marched into the living room, stopping short as I came face to face with my father.

His look was stony and I didn’t need Caity’s eyesight to see the anger coursing over his expression.

“Don’t you ever do that to your mother again.”

I glared at his reprimand. Like he had the right to point at
me
and talk that way.

“Where is she?”

He scrubbed a hand down his face and muttered, “On a plane.”

I frowned. “How’d you manage that?”

“I’ve been watching your back for the last eight years. You seriously think I wouldn’t have several contingency plans up my sleeve!”

“Who’s this? And please tell me he didn’t break into our house, because the door was locked when we left.” Nicole pointed at my father. In spite of her small frame, her presence in the room was notable. Dad spun to face her properly, assessing her with a quick glance.

As soon as he turned, her eyes bulged and she looked between us with parted lips.

“Oh my gosh, that’s just freaky.”

I rolled my eyes. Yes, I looked like my father, could we move on.

Dale cleared his throat and extended his hand. “Hey, I’m Eric’s roommate, Dale, and this is my fiancée, Nicole.”

Dad pushed a smile over his lips and shook Dale’s hand. “Declan Shore.”

Dale knew some of the history, but was wise enough to keep his mouth shut. I really loved that about him.

I crossed my arms and glared over Nicole’s head. “What are you doing here?”

He let out a surprised scoff. “Really? That’s your question?”

“I thought I made it clear I didn’t want to see you again.”

Crossing his arms to mirror mine, he bore me with a hard scowl. “I thought I made it clear that you don’t have a choice. I’m not wasting the last eight years in hiding so you can get your head shot off.”

“Shot? What? What the hell is going on?” Nicole crossed her arms as well, her hip sticking out like it did when she got really pissy.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. “Dad’s a crook and the guys he stole from found out about me. Now they’re after my blood.”

“Are you serious right now?” Nicole’s voice was high and pitchy. “This is insane! How can this be happening? Caity might be dead or
sold
, and you’ve got a price on your head? This isn’t reality!” She threw her hands wide.

“Nicky, calm down, sweetie.” Dale rubbed her back, looking just as shocked.

“Dale! Do
not
tell me to calm down right now!” She spun on him. “I feel like I’m in the middle of a Hollywood blockbuster! Except this one involves my friends and if they die, there are no stunt doubles, no rolling credits. It’s just the end!”

“I know.” He skimmed his fingers down her cheek, his soft touch having some miraculous power over her. She gripped his hand and breathed in through her nose, tears popping onto her lashes again. Dale pulled her into a tight embrace.

“Caity’s been sold?” Dad’s voice was quiet. He looked at me with complete empathy and I had to turn away from him.

“It’s only a theory,” I muttered. “She was working undercover for the FBI investigating some guy involved in human trafficking.”

“What was his name?”

“Diego Mendez.”

I glanced up, but Dad was shaking his head. “Don’t know him. If she’s with the FBI, won’t they be looking out for her?”

“Something’s gone wrong, and they’re denying that Caity had anything do with this. We’ve got a detective from the LAPD looking into it, but he doesn’t seem that hopeful.” My voice cracked.

Dad made a move to approach me, but I stepped back. He raised his hands in surrender and nodded, moving back to where he was before.

“I’ve got to find her.”

“No, you have to get away, somewhere safe.”

“You’re insane if you think I’m hopping on a plane to New Zealand.”

“I’m not asking you to do that. I’m asking you to lay low.”

“No. No! If Caity is still alive, if she has been sold, I am not wasting one second of my time
not
looking for her. Who knows what they’re doing to her right now. She’s beautiful.” My voice caught. “She’s so beautiful and if they touch her, if they hurt her...” I shook my head, molten anger mixed with sheer desperation making me nauseous. “I can’t. I can’t lay low, Dad. I have got to find her. That’s all there is to it.”

I didn’t wait for a response. No argument could make me change my mind. Shoving past my father, I headed for my room and slammed the door behind me. Caity’s sweater was still hanging over the chair in the corner. I wanted to snatch it up and smell it, breathe in her scent, but I wouldn’t let myself. One whiff and I’d probably fall apart again. Like hell I was gonna cry. I didn’t have time for tears.

Snatching my bag off the floor, I yanked it open and started rummaging through it. My clothes were still packed from Gramps’ house. His vacant stare flashed through my mind again. I squeezed my eyes shut, a sick fury shooting through me.

“Find Caity first, then you can think about payback,” I muttered.

I strode to my dresser and snatched out a couple of clean shirts. I had no idea what I was actually doing. Why pack a bag when I had no clue where I was going? I just needed to be doing something,
anything
that might get me closer to Caity.

My frenzied movements slowed.

How was this getting me closer to her? Packing a bag? So what!

She could be in Mexico by now. She could be in freaking Timbuktu!

I threw the handful of shirts across the room. They smacked against the wall and flopped to the floor.

I’d never felt such an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. It sat on my shoulders, heavy and debilitating.

The phone in my pocket buzzed and started ringing. I wrenched it out, thinking it might be Sullivan, but it wasn’t.

Caity’s name flashed on my screen. I scrambled to answer it.

“Caity! Where are you? Are you okay?”

There was a gut-wrenching pause and finally a stern male voice admitted, “It’s not Caity.”

Fire flashed through me, a hot rage that made it hard to speak. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but if you’ve hurt her, if you’ve even touched her, I’m gonna—”

“It’s Rhodes.”

“Who?”

“Eddy Rhodes” He cleared his throat. “
Special Agent
Eddy Rhodes of the FBI.”

I went still, my mind trying to absorb the information.

“What the hell are you doing with Caity’s phone?”

“I work with Kaplan and I shouldn’t be calling you, but we need to talk. Caity’s phone was the safest way to get in touch with you.”

I blinked. “Why doesn’t she have it?”

“I had to take it off her before she went into the Mendez house. It was a precautionary measure.”

I scoffed.

His response was a soft sigh.

My jaw worked to the side. “Do you know where Caity is right now?”

Again with a pause that did nothing to encourage me. Finally, he blew out a quiet breath. “It kills me to say this, but...we have no idea what happened to her.”

“Then why are you calling me?”

“Because I’m going to do everything in my power to help you find her.”

Caitlyn

Monique finished my makeup and I stood in front of the full-length mirror, looking like a beauty queen. I didn’t even recognize myself. She’d done a way better job than I did back at the Mendez mansion. I swallowed. That felt like a century ago now, yet it had only been a day and a half. How could life fall apart so quickly?

“Pull back your shoulders. You are a confident woman who thinks she is beautiful.” Monique pulled my shoulders back and peeked her head out from behind me.

“She
is
beautiful.”

Santiago’s voice stole the smile from my face. He stood in the doorway looking dapper in an expensive tux. His hair was combed back and his beard look freshly trimmed. He smelled like fancy cologne and I hated my traitorous nostrils for enjoying the scent.

“
Bueno
, Monique. You have done a wonderful job.”

“Thank you.” She bowed her head with a smile that looked quite genuine. I studied Santiago’s face as he approached us. He was eyeing up the young woman with an affection that had nothing to do with lust. It was more fatherly than anything. No wonder he treated her so well.

He took my hands and spread my arms wide, studying the full ensemble. “Carlotta, you look perfect.”

“For what?”

Monique had told me, but I wanted to hear it from his lips. He flicked his head at Monique, silently ordering her from the room. She mouthed a “Good luck” behind his back and slipped out the door.

“You are going to win me some money tonight. Miguel did very well from your talents and I want you to do the same for me.”

“Aren’t you worried someone might notice? Bruno did.”

“He has a very keen eye, but if we are honest, I think he was studying you so closely because he likes you. He probably intended to buy you for himself, but when Miguel confessed everything, like the pathetic snake he is, Bruno had to call me.”

My nose wrinkled and I couldn’t help my look of disgust.

Santiago snickered. “I have not forgotten my promise. You do not need to fear.” He ran his hand lightly up my arm before offering me his. “Come, my dear.”

I placed my fingers within the crook of his elbow and teetered out of the room. The evil shoes I was wearing looked amazing, but hurt worse than the ones Miguel had chosen for me. Why did women do this to themselves?

Sal opened the lift for us and we descended in silence. I found it suffocating by the eighteenth floor and stupidly opened my mouth.

“Is Monique your daughter?”

He stiffened and gave me a sharp look.

I raised my eyebrows. “Do you expect me not to read you? If so, you have to tell me. I can’t always control it, but I will try if you want me to. I’d hate to make a mistake.”

My voice was snarky, I could hear it, but thankfully it didn’t bother Santiago. Instead he chuckled, once again gleeful with his purchase.

“Monique reminds me of my younger sister.”

“So that’s why you saved her...why you treat her so well?”

He nodded once and I could see that the conversation was over.

We reached the parking lot and stepped straight into a limo. The driver gave me a kind smile before shutting the door and shuffling around to the front. I arranged my dress and crossed my legs, gazing out the window as we exited the casino.

The night lights looked amazing. The Strip was vibrant with color and action. I leaned my elbow on the armrest and soaked it in, trying to pretend for a moment that I was just a normal girl having a special night out.

The Vegas lights faded to darkness as we turned off the main strip and headed away from the surreal oasis. With nothing left to see, I leaned back against my seat.

Santiago was watching me, his eyes narrowed as he studied my profile.

“You look like you’re trying to read me,” I muttered.

“Wouldn’t that be nice. You do fascinate me, Carlotta. Were you born to be this perceptive?”

“No.” I shook my head. “You probably won’t believe me, but this ability was passed on by a homeless man. I helped him when my friends were cruel and he—he said I had a good soul. He chose me and passed on this curse.”

Santiago chuckled. “It’s not a curse. It is a gift.”

“I don’t see it that way.”

“You should. It is a powerful blessing.”

“So far it’s only brought me trouble.” I shrugged.

His jaw jutted out as he took in my hard expression. “Maybe you should pass it on then.”

I flinched, looking at him with wide eyes.

“You’ve never thought to?”

A few slow blinks were my only answer.

“How did the man do it?”

“I don’t know. He just held my hand.”

Santiago extended his. I gazed down at his upturned palm. “Let me unburden you, Carlotta.”

I sniffed in a sharp breath; my instant desire to slap our palms together and just be rid of it surprised me. I balled my fingers into a fist, logical thought quickly coming to the rescue. “What then? I’ll be worthless to you.”

He smirked, his eyes lighting with amusement. “What if...you give me your gift and I let you walk free?”

My heart stopped beating, temptation thrumming through me.

“How do I know you’d keep your word?”

“Look at my face and see for yourself.”

I swiveled to study him properly. Flicking on the interior light, I narrowed my gaze and peeled the layers back. It was actually hard to tell. I saw honesty there, but also deception. It was hard to separate the emotions and figure out which feeling was attached to which offense in his life.

I kept staring, peeling back layers until I was finally happy that he would keep his word. If I handed over my gift right now, he’d let me walk away...although I couldn’t ignore the niggle inside. There was something very mercurial about Santiago Gomez.

His upturned palm did look inviting though, steadily held out to me, willing me to touch him, to share that spark. I had no idea how to actually do it. Did the homeless man just think, “Be gone, eyesight”?

That seemed too easy.

Leaning away from him, I nestled my shoulders into the soft leather.

“You are not convinced? You think I am a liar.”

I took my time responding. “I know you’re telling the truth, but...”

“But what?”

I pressed my lips together, hoping he wouldn’t be angry with my response.

I was angry at myself for feeling this way! But I knew it was right. I knew if I handed my powers to
him
, I’d regret it forever.

“I was chosen for a reason, and as much as I don’t like this power, it is mine to carry. I don’t feel like I should give it away.”

“Hmmm.” He squeezed his thumb, cracking the knuckle and making me wince. “Let me try to understand this. You are basically giving up your one chance of freedom out of duty?”

Slowly turning to face him, I pulled on every ounce of courage I could find and quietly replied, “I am saving the world from a man who would take this power and abuse it.”

“Well, how noble of you.” Sarcasm dripped off each word. I could feel his anger building and began to fear that he might force me to hand over the power. I wasn’t trying to be high and mighty; I just hated the idea of him being able to read me and see how truly terrified I was. Plus, I was right; he would manipulate people to no end...and yes, I knew he was using me to manipulate people so what was the difference, but beneath all my fear was still that small thread of hope, that tiny spark that maybe I’d be rescued and this nightmare would come to an end. I couldn’t let him have it.

I clasped my fingers together and pitched a sale I hoped he’d buy.

“Besides, you don’t want it.”

“And why not?”

I looked at him. “You kill men, you buy people, you force them to do things they don’t want to do. Think about it. If you could read them, you would see their fear, their hatred, their loathing.”

His eyes began to narrow and I stripped off a few more layers, searching for the glimpse I’d seen only moments before. There it was. I played on it.

“You like people to look up to you. You like to pretend that you are a nice person who treats his staff well. But you are still a slave-owner...and a killer. If you had this power, you couldn’t hide from the truth. There is no pretending.”

His lips pulled into a tight line, his anger starting to brew. I could see he wanted to hurt me.

I’d said too much. Stupid sales pitch. I was such an idiot!

Images of Bruno ripping my dress off sealed my lips together.

“You think you are better than me?” His voice was strained.

I shook my head.

“There’s a little devil in all of us, Carlotta. Even you. I am not afraid to see it in people.”

“Yes, you are, just a little bit,” I whispered. “I can read much deeper than you think.”

He swallowed, casting his eyes to the floor like a busted school kid.

“You should be grateful,” I whispered again. “Your devil is bigger and far scarier than mine.”

He snorted and burst with laughter, clapping his hands and nodding. “Oh, my dear, you amuse me.” He wagged his finger with a chuckle. “You may be right. There is something safe about pretense.”

I expelled the breath I’d been holding.

“I will let you continue to carry this burden, and let us hope you will never stop proving your worth.”

I let out a shaky laugh, feeling the pressure of his command. It may have been said with a jovial laugh, but he meant every syllable. I might amuse him now, but I didn’t need my power to know that the sentiment could be fleeting.