Behind Closed Doors (Behind Closed Doors #1)(49)

“You’ve known me only days, Skye. I can’t ask you to do this.”

“It’s already done. Fate served me this helping of life, and you with it.”

“Fate,” he repeats. “Is that what you think this is?”

I think of Ella bidding on this unit, not me, and I say, “Yes. I do. I know you don’t believe in luck, but fate—”

“Is different,” he supplies. “Like you.” And then his mouth is on mine, and he’s kissing me—a deep, drugging slide of tongue, a “claim me” kind of kiss that tastes of anger, hunger, and the kind of defiance no one can take from you. The kind of defiance that wins poker games and wars. And when he pulls back, I am breathless and tingling all over. “I have to get back to the tournament.”

“We have to get back,” I say. “And no pressure, but you really need to win.”

His fingers ease from my hair, settling on my cheeks. “I will, baby. You just watch and see.” He kisses me again, hard and fast this time. “I’m going to end this,” he promises. “And no one will hurt you.”

He allows me no chance to reply and promise to help him do it. Already he’s released me long enough to open the door, guide me into the hallway, and lace the fingers of one of his hands with mine, folding our elbows between us. And we stay that way as we exit the VIP lounge, and the instant we’re in the hallway, I feel him slide into his zone. His steps are controlled, his energy the same, and when we reach the door to the event he doesn’t pause or ask if I have second thoughts.

Inside, the room is buzzing with new energy, the finale in the air, an announcement about the doors sealing coming over the intercom. Jason leads me forward and I walk with him to the opening where he’ll pass the barrier, and I’ll stay on this side. And the next thing I know, he’s pulled me to him, kissed me hard and fast, but oh so deliciously, with a deep slide of tongue.

Then he grins and says, “?‘Fuck them’ poker—and then I’m going to f*ck you every which way you’ll let me, baby.” He releases me and starts walking.

“Promises, promises!” I tease.

He turns around and walks backwards. “I do promise,” he says. “And I never make a promise I don’t keep.” He winks and turns around, his steps lighter, his spine more relaxed. He’s playing the game already, and doing it oh so well, and now it’s my turn. I have to play it just as well. I turn and face the bleachers, and everything in my gut screams with a warning: Whoever is blackmailing Jason is watching you, right this minute. The crowd remaining is no more than one hundred, and per Daniel and Abel, Stephanie isn’t here. Which means it’s logical to believe that someone close to Jason is behind all of this.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN


“SKYE!”

Abel’s shout comes from the bleachers, where I find him motioning me to a seat a moment before the lights go out, the glow of the lights outside the event room my only guide as I move toward him. The one blessed part of the darkness is that there is no chance of Mandy and Sheila spotting me, and to my relief, no one steps in my path. Though truthfully, knowing what I know now, I’d like to try and read them again, but not now; watching Jason play this part of the tournament is more important.

“Any luck?” I ask Abel.

“The bitch is nowhere to be found,” he grumbles. “And all I can say is, Jason better f*cking shove this bullshit down her throat with a win tonight.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” I say. “Why are the lights out? How are we going to see the final cycle?”

“The TV people must be screwing with things,” he says. “We’ll be lit up before the finale starts.”

A man appears in the aisle next to me and I look up to find Daniel, of all people, motioning for us to scoot over. I don’t move at first; the idea of him sitting next to me has me wishing for Mandy and Sheila, to the point that I stand up. “I’ll move,” I say, but he stands his ground, blocking my path, his hand gently wrapping my upper arm.

“You sit,” he orders, his hand on my arm as he leans in close, near my ear. “I might not trust you, but Jason won’t focus on his game if he doesn’t know you’re safely with me.”

“You mean you don’t trust me and want to hold me captive,” I say, keeping my voice low. He triggers an uncomfortable emotion in me I can’t name, claustrophobia starting to rear its head.

“He wants you safe,” he repeats, “but as a bonus, I keep you close. And since I don’t even trust the people we do know right now, that’s not a negative in my book.”

Reality strikes me in those words, and I shake off the past interfering with the present. “Understood.”

I move farther down the bleachers, where Abel waits.

“Daniel doesn’t bite,” he says. “Well, I don’t know. Maybe he will.” He grins. “You are pretty.”

“Not funny,” I scold, while Daniel sits so darn close, his leg brushes mine.

I scoot closer to Abel while Daniel quickly sends a text message, and to my surprise he shows it to me: Abel and I are with Skye. Now win.

“Thank you,” I say, for the confirmation that Jason did indeed ask him to stay with me. “I really hope he does win.”