Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 128488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Evan looked at Noelle. She imagined her eyes were as wide and shocked as his. He gave her the slightest of nods, and her breath released. They were together. They could handle anything. Partners.
Evan pointed the remote at the TV and pressed the On button, and the screen blinked to life. For a beat, Noelle didn’t comprehend what she was looking at. She leaned closer as Evan swore under his breath. Both of them stood, walking together toward the screen until they were directly in front of it, as though it beckoned in some silent way. It was a room. And in it were two cages, one containing a young boy, and the other an older man. Noelle stared, her mouth falling open, a wail rising in her throat as she tried desperately to swallow it down.
“An orphaned pickpocket, living off his will alone in a town run by criminals,” Vitucci said. Her eyes moved to the young, skinny boy. He was just a kid. A sob choked her, and she let out a stuttered breath. “And an ex–border guard who ignored the pleas of the woman he fell in love with in that sad, poverty-stricken town, who asked him to bring her across the border. He followed the law back then, and so she took matters into her own hands and was killed when she attempted to cross with their daughter. He blames himself. He tries to make amends by living solely outside the law now and drinking himself to death. For her.” Noelle looked at the older man, who was wrapping a piece of fabric around his bloody wrist. He had no hand. Oh God.
Their gazes hung on the screen for several minutes as they took in every staggering detail. At the top were two names: Trigger and Goliath. They obviously referred to the two people in the cages. A wave of nausea overtook her. They had named them, like circus animals. She gulped down the sickness, feeling faint.
It was too much to comprehend and grotesquely familiar. What were our game names? How did you monsters refer to us? She let out a strangled cry, turning toward Evan. Evan wrapped his arms around her, letting out a sound that was both anguish and fury. The feed was live, streaming from Vitucci’s computer. Those two people were there in cages right that very moment. Evan let go of her, whipping in the other direction, to face Vitucci. She turned as well, bringing her hands to her mouth.
Vitucci was gone.
Her gaze moved to his desk. So was the jewelry box holding his sister’s diamond.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Caspar paused to straighten his bow tie before using the flat of his hand to knock on the rusted steel door. It was pulled open by a young expressionless gentleman. “Invitation, sir?”
Caspar removed the coveted printed card stock from his inner coat pocket and wordlessly handed it to the greeter, who took a long moment to inspect it before handing it back. He recognized the man. He was the lackey who’d shot that old prostitute in the back when she was so close to freedom. The man gestured Caspar to spread his arms and then patted him down once he’d done so. “Have a lovely evening, sir.”
“I intend to,” he murmured, stepping through the metal detector, into a wide-open space that was mostly concrete. He had no idea where he was. He’d been picked up at a designated spot and then blindfolded and driven here. Wherever here was. Somewhere in Reno, that’s all he knew. Obviously, the originals hadn’t wanted to travel far.
He pulled in a slow breath before moving toward the arched doorway from which the sounds of organ music and conversation flowed. He’d waited eight long years for this night. To be in the same place with all these players. He’d sacrificed; he’d given up opportunities to enact small forms of revenge, because he wanted them all, not just one. What good did it do to smack a cockroach, or even a few, when the rest would just come scuttling back once the lights went out?
Oh yes, he had a mission here tonight, but first . . . first he would savor this for a moment. He exhaled slowly.
He had finally proved his loyalty and earned their trust. Or perhaps they were planning to kill him. He’d won the game so many times, after all. The other players had grown irritated. And suspicious. He hadn’t cheated—he’d played by their rules. He’d won using his wits alone, and with the help of the contestants, but even so, and though there had been few “winners” overall, he’d caught wind of the displeasure of the others. They preferred to possess the victories. All of them. Watching those they considered so much lower than themselves walk away—or run away, as the case always was—was a bitter pill to swallow. Why should men like them swallow anything bitter at all?