She catches him waving at her and returns the slightest flick of her fingers. She’s smart enough to know how to survive. I feel sorry for the girl, but hopefully, there will be a real smile on her face in twenty-four hours instead of the illusion of one.
“And what are you offering as the prize?” Mr. B may think the buy-in steep, but he’s definitely interested.
“Now, this is the interesting part.” I don’t like the way his tone turned. Benefield is letting his crazy show.
“How’s that?”
“The winner of our little game will get a chance to fight for the right to have my Evie for one night.”
“One night?” My voice deepens. “For five million, I expect more than one night.”
“She belongs to me, Mr. S. Surely, you didn’t think I’d give her to you.”
“I think the word you’re looking for is lose her to me.”
“But you misunderstand.” He gives a slow shake of his head and clucks his tongue. “Winning our little game only gives you the opportunity to fight for her.”
“And what does that mean?” This is the payment piece. I brace for whatever madness he’s planning.
“Are you interested in playing, or not?”
Fucking bastard. I’m interested in ripping his head off. Scratch that. I want to rip his balls off, feed them to him, then finish it off by shoving his dick down his throat.
My game face is on. I’ve played enough poker to know the real strategy begins long before the first card is on the table.
“Your Evie? No strings? I can do whatever I want to her?”
“That is what you wanted, is it not? A woman with fight in her. If I win, you walk out of here empty-handed and forfeit your deposit. I like games where the stakes are high. Makes it more interesting.”
“I came to purchase a slave. Not to walk away empty-handed. If I win your woman, she’s mine, not just for one night. I leave with her.”
“Then let’s hope the cards are kind to you. Of course, you can always decline. I’ll have James take you to the stables and you can pick two slaves for the price of one.”
“What about me?” Mr. H whines like a child. “Why does he get to pick two?”
“Mr. H, if you win, you may do the same.” Benefield’s head tilts back as he laughs.
I glance at the others in the room, gauging their reactions. Something’s up. I don’t know what, but I’ll figure it out.
Mr. H and Mr. B trade nervous glances, but then they cautiously join in with Benefield’s laugh.
I don’t.
There’s nothing funny about any of this and I refuse to be manipulated. With my feet planted shoulder-width apart, I stand my ground. Knox’s a little behind me and to the left. I see him in my peripheral vision. He rocks forward, putting his weight on the balls of his feet.
As guests, we’re unarmed. Our contact with the outside world severed. That doesn’t mean Knox and I are defenseless. The guests pose no threat. They’re eager to get in and get out of this place with their identities protected and a girl sold into slavery.
Benefield poses a mild threat. He’s rich, arrogant, keeps himself physically fit, but knows nothing about fighting.
I worry about the guards. There are scores of them in the compound. Half a dozen stand duty in the Oasis. The same number are within shouting distance. Each one of them is armed.
Knox shifts position, placing him close to one of the guards with a Russian AK-47. At my signal, he’ll secure that weapon for himself and toss me the 9mm attached to the guard’s belt.
I’m not worried about taking out the guards. My concern is what happened to Eve. Where did Benefield send her?
“Let’s play.”
Twenty-One
Max
The night takes a turn, going from somewhat relaxed to downright dangerous.
Benefield’s men set up a card table. One of them flicks a white linen tablecloth into the air. A man standing on the opposite side catches the end and they lower it in place.
Seven wooden racks of chips are placed in front of each seat. Crystal water glasses go down next, then ashtrays beside each player. A humidor is brought out and we make our selections. I set my cigar down beside the ashtray, leaving it unlit for now.
I don’t trust Benefield. Who’s to say the tip isn’t laced with some drug that will muddle my senses. Mr. H doesn’t share my concerns; he lights his cigar and puffs on it until bluish-gray smoke coils toward the ceiling.
Mr. H, a total tool, keeps rubbing his hands together like a greedy little fuck. No way am I losing to him. Mr. B joins us; he looks at the deck of cards like they’re going to bite him. The other guests, who generally keep to themselves, gather around with interest.
Mr. J is a banker. More than a banker, he owns a financial powerhouse. Mr. Q, a little man with beady rat eyes, licks his lips while the table is set. The last of the guests, Mr. Y, watches from a distance, but that’s only because one of the girls is on her knees in front of him.
Yeah, no touching, but the girls are free to do as they please. There’s no doubt in my mind that girl is not willing. Coercion comes in many forms, and no doubt Mr. Y strongly suggested she perform fellatio on his miserable cock.
Me and the alphabet soup of secret identities gather around to play cards. I’m not supposed to know what the other guests do for a living. Our anonymity is one of the things Benefield protects. Not that we can’t share those bits and pieces of ourselves with one another if we so choose.
Only an idiot would. Wait, Mr. H tells us all how oil rich he is. Such a fucking tool.
What I know about these men comes from Mitzy and her marvelous tech team. Using facial recognition, she identified all the players. I have no doubt these men will be visited by someone from Guardian HRS in the near future.
“Mr. H, you mentioned Texas Hold’em?” Benefield sits at the table while the rest of us follow suit.
“Sure did.” Mr. H scoots in his chair. He rubs his hands together as his gaze darts around the table.
I’m a bit more reticent, although this is exactly what I need. Benefield’s words keep sounding in my head. Winning here only gives me the right to fight for Eve.
Fight?
How?
I take my seat and push my concerns to the back of my mind. It’s time to get serious and that means all my attention needs to be focused on the game.
Knox comes to stand at my six, making sure none of the girls or guards tries sneaking behind me where they can see my cards. Then I remember the cameras.
Would Benefield sneak that low? He might, but that’s okay. I know how to keep my cards covered.
“Mr. Y, will you be joining us?” Benefield calls out, not bothering to look at Mr. Y.
Finished with the girl, Mr. Y tucks himself inside his pants and zips the fly. “I heard poker?”
“Texas Hold’em,” Mr. H announces. “Best game on the planet.”
“Sure thing, deal me in.” Mr. Y strolls over to the table and takes a seat to my right.
“What are we playing for?” Mr. Y asks. “I assume this isn’t just for fun?”
Benefield points to me. “Mr. S is interested in my Evie. If he wins, she’s his.”