Курок Дуглас Пенелопа

And he shot me the same look I’d seen since I was a kid.

But I couldn’t resist. Unable to hold in my small smile, I ignored him and moved it to E4.

He let out a sigh and shook his head, exasperated with the lack of control and strategy he failed at drilling into me all those long afternoons after school, years ago, when he worked for my father.

Or he thought he failed at drilling it into me, anyway. People assumed I behaved strictly on impulse, when actually, it required quite a bit of strategy being this fucked up.

House music pounded downstairs, the club already packed with college girls, young professionals, and anyone else in the twenty-something set able to spring for the three-hundred-dollar bottle of vodka or champagne just to be able to sit at a damn table.

I’d spent plenty of time down there in the crowd and noise in high school with my friends. Now I just kept a private room upstairs on reserve to catch up with Kostya Garin, one of my father’s old bodyguards who now organized security for this club. Fifty-nine years old, gray goatee, and the same black suits he always wore when he worked for my father, he still had more muscles than me, and he was one of the few people I had, at least, some regard for.

I would do business with him.

I would trust anything he had to say.

I would attend his funeral.

There weren’t many people I’d sit through a whole service for.

But we weren’t friends, and we never discussed anything personal. He taught me things, but he never complicated it with trying to be my father. He was one of the perks I came here for.

The other…

“I want to leave,” a girl spoke up from the other side of the room as if on cue.

As Mr. Garin contemplated his next move, I turned my head toward her.

She wore a tight pink dress of sequins, glittering in the dim glow coming from the sconces on the wall, and her ass was planted on some little prick’s lap whose name I didn’t know. Her boyfriend across from them, on the edge of the black leather couch, watching his buddy putting his hands on his woman. I observed them, trying to put myself in each of their skin.

Did she like another man touching her? Was her boyfriend jealous? Turned on? Angry? Was his best friend living out a long-held fantasy for her? Was he enjoying this? Was he hard?

I blinked, waiting for it to come. His jealousy. Her degradation. His desire. Their fear and excitement at being watched.

But it didn’t come. Not yet. It was getting harder and harder to empathize over the years.

Fuck.

Maybe if it was my new little wife being fondled?

Or…

The guy touched her hips lightly and hesitantly as his mouth grazed a path across her shoulder, probably trying to hold back so they didn’t know how much he was enjoying himself.

“Can we leave now?” she asked me, the man underneath her not giving the slightest hint he wanted to leave quite yet.

But I ignored her, turning back to the board and seeing that Mr. Garin had matched my move with his pawn to E5.

I smiled to myself.

“Look closely,” he continued. “You can still get me. Ten moves.”

Ten? I grabbed my knight and moved it to F3, hearing Mr. Garin let out a sigh as he plucked his knight and sat him back down in C6 as if on auto-pilot.

“Damon…” he scolded, growing angry with me.

I could hear it in his voice, and my pulse raced a little as he continued the game, going through the motions as if we’d gone ’round and ’round about this for years, and he was done with my bullshit mistakes and impulsiveness. He just wanted to get the game and his inevitable win over with so he could get back to work now that my head wasn’t in the game.

My bishop to C4, his pawn to D6, my other knight to C3, and as he reached for his bishop, I stopped breathing as I watched him move it to G4, pinning my knight to my queen.

You idiot. That actually fucking worked, and he didn’t see what he’d done yet. I moved my knight to E5, snatching his pawn and leaving my queen completely vulnerable to his bishop. He saw the opening, shook his head, and captured her, removing her from the board and moving his bishop into my queen’s spot.

My heart jumped into my throat. He thought he had me.

But it was my move now, and as soon as I moved my bishop to G7, I had his king in fucking check.

He paused, realizing what had just happened and re-examining the board. His eyes flashed to mine.

As expected, he tried moving his king to E7, but the look of defeat was already in his eyes.

I slid my knight into D5. “Checkmate,” I said.

He stared at the board, scowling like he wasn’t sure how that just happened. “Seven moves...” he mumbled.

Yeah.

Not ten.

His eyes darted up to mine. “You hung your queen. I didn’t teach you to do that.”

Just then there was a knock on the door and my driver moved to open it. Erika Fane entered, and I stood up, fixing my jacket as the driver closed the door behind her.

“The queen is the most powerful piece on the board,” I told Mr. Garin, keeping my eyes locked on Rika’s. “Why not use her?”

Rika, the fiance of one of my high school friends, stepped farther into the room, looking ready for anything except a night at the club. A smile tugged at my lips. Her tan baseball hat sat low, casting a shadow over her eyes, while her long, blonde hair spilled down her back. She wore jeans with the hood of a gray sweatshirt sticking out the back of a tan jacket, her hands tucked into the pockets. She stopped when I started to approach, no doubt trying to keep a safe distance.

I veered for the couch, sitting down on the opposite end as the boyfriend, who still watched—or tried not to watch—what his girlfriend and best friend were doing.

“Have a good night, Damon,” I heard Mr. Garin say.

I nodded, and when I looked up again, he was gone. Rika stayed back, watching me as I dug out my wallet from my breast pocket and pulled out a stack of bills.

“I want to stop,” the young girl said, pulling away from the guy’s mouth.

“You can stop whenever you want,” I said. “Door’s not locked.”

And I started slowly laying down one-hundred-dollar bill after another on the frosted glass table between us. Next to the cash I’d already paid them for what they were doing.

“Or you can stay there,” I continued, laying down another hundred and then another, “and keep doing nothing while your little boyfriend lets his best friend put a hand inside your dress.” I put down the last hundred. “And you can earn next month’s rent money while you’re at it.”

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Rika demanded.

I glanced up at her, seeing her shoot a glare from them to me.

“You can look,” I told her. “I won’t tell Michael. I’m good at keeping our secrets.”

She looked away, and I cast my stare back down at the girl—who’d arrived earlier, trying to sneak into the club with her boyfriend and his friend, none of them twenty-one. She was hot, they looked fun to play with, so here we were.

The young woman’s brown eyes dropped to the money on the table and lingered for a moment. And just like with Mr. Garin, heat coursed slowly down my arms, through my stomach, past my groin, and into my thighs as I waited to see if she would do what I wanted her to do.

Her young tits rose and fell as she got more nervous, no doubt wanting to do it but afraid of what seeds this would sow between her, her boyfriend, and his friend once they left this room. Did she just want the money? I swallowed, watching the indecision on her face. Or did she like the kink? The danger.

She threw a look to her boyfriend, whose face was etched with discomfort, but he sure as hell wasn’t standing up and taking her out of here either.

Come on, man. Make a decision. Get your woman or sit back and enjoy the show.

What a pussy.

Bt slowly, she made that decision for him. She relaxed into his friend, he fisted the back of her auburn hair, and buried his mouth in her neck as he slid a hand into her dress and took hold of her breast. Her eyes fell closed, her breath shook, but she remained rigid.

For the moment.

And after another moment, I was him, with her in my lap and taking what someone else didn’t want me to have. The boyfriend on the couch saw his friend’s desire and knew the truth now. Something his buddy had been hiding. They were changed, and pleasure fluttered into my chest.

Yes.

I closed my eyes for a second, finally fucking feeling something. Just a twinge, but it was better than nothing.

I heard Rika’s sigh. “You wonder why everyone hates you.”

I opened my eyes, shaking my head. “I don’t wonder.”

I stood up and tucked my billfold back into my breast pocket.

“I like chess.” I approached her, noticing her hands were still tucked into her pockets. “Knowing and seeing what I want in front of me. Knowing that it won’t come easily. Knowing that it takes patience and a series of carefully constructed maneuvers all plotted into a specific sequence.” I paused, looking down at her. “Knowing that the longer I have to wait and possibly alter my course makes getting what I want so much more enjoyable.”

I loved making her uncomfortable. Mindfucks were sometimes more fun than actual fucking.

And for a moment, it was like I was looking down at her.

At Winter.

They had the same hair, although Winter’s was a shade lighter, and the same colored eyes, except Rika’s were darker. Winter had this ring of darker blue around the outside of her pupils that made them…piercing. I was glad she couldn’t use them, because if she could look at me with those eyes…

Yeah, Winter and Rika were both so similar, and not just in their looks. They were both defiant. Both liked a little danger. And both fought back.

“And knowing that the path to success changes based on the game pieces I choose to use,” I continued. “And people are my favorite pieces, Rika.”

She narrowed her eyes but didn’t say anything. She was probably trying to look bored, impatient, or unimpressed, but I knew better.

“Look at her.” I nodded once to the girl in the chair. “That beautiful body, hesitant at first, but now she’s responding. She wants to touch him.” I glanced at Rika and back to the couple making out. “You see how she’s fisting her dress in her hands. She’s turned on, but her boyfriend is watching, and she’s scared of what he thinks. She doesn’t want to show how much she likes his friend’s hands and mouth on her, so she’s feeling her man out. Waiting for some sign from him that it’s okay to enjoy it.”

“Then why did she say she wanted to leave?” Rika retorted.

“Because it’s what girls are supposed to say, isn’t it?” I fired back. “It’s risky to bring out your king or queen too early.”

The couple continued playing, nibbling, kissing, and touching as we talked.

“That’s what they teach you, isn’t it?” I went on. “That’s what I taught Banks?”

Women weren’t supposed to want it as much as a man, right? And they certainly weren’t supposed to like it casual. That was what I taught my sister to keep her safe.

I pressed forward. “So why did she stay?” I questioned Rika.

Her jaw flexed, and she looked away as if she wasn’t playing, but then I saw her gaze slowly flash back to the college kids and then to the money on the table.

“Because it was your move, and you pushed back,” she replied.

“Yes, very good.”

The girl might be doing it for the money. Or maybe she needed a good enough excuse to agree.

“Now him.” I eyed the best friend under her as he kneaded her tit under her dress. “He’d do this for free. I told him to kiss her, but he’s eating her alive right now. He’s wanted her for a long time.” I saw his eyes open, probably having heard what I’d said. “Probably fantasized about her and looked at her when his friend wasn’t watching. I’ll bet he really wants both hands on her tits now.”

And then I looked down at him, asking, “Don’t you?”

He nodded, his mouth on the girl’s. He dropped his other hand from her hair and placed it on her hip, getting ready for when he got permission.

“And her boyfriend,” I told Rika. “It’s driving him insane. He wants to be angry, but—”

“He wants the money,” she finished.

“Or it turns him on maybe, and he doesn’t want to admit it.”

She gave me a condescending look. “Yeah, sure.”

How nave she still is. “Not every man has to be paid to watch his woman get fucked by another guy.”

“Why would he enjoy that?”

“I think you know,” I shot back, eyeing her with amusement. I knew all about her little romp in the steam room at Hunter-Bailey with Michael and Kai.

And as much as I thought I’d be turned on by the reality of what Rika had enjoyed in that room, it actually pissed me off. I wasn’t quite sure why, either. Maybe because I didn’t get my turn, and I felt left out of the fun?

Or maybe, even though I knew her enough to know she didn’t let anything happen to her that she didn’t want, a small part of me still felt like she’d been… I don’t know…

Used.

I didn’t know why I gave a shit, though. Michael and Kai had shared a woman before. I just didn’t want to think about it with Erika.

But it did mean one thing good. My old friends still liked to play and they’d be prime game pieces.

“You see, Rika,” I told her. “There are people in the world who are destined to be played. Victims who wouldn’t be able to change their fate even if they went back and lived life over a thousand different ways.” I made a show of letting my eyes fall down her form. “And then there are players. Like you and me.” I gestured to the threesome. “Which piece would you move next?”

She didn’t look away from the challenge this time, only hesitated before finally surveying the group. Her gaze finally rested on the boyfriend. “His instinct is to be the better man.”

Very good.

“He feels competitive, yes,” I replied, impressed. “It pisses him off and gets him hard. He wants to fuck her and show her who the real man is. To keep him in the game, we need to use him. Make him feel important.”

She was quick. She had the same thought I did.

“Boyfriend?” I called to the guy on the couch but still stared at Rika. “Tell your friend what you want him to do your girlfriend.”

Rika held my eyes, both of us locked in a challenge to see if we were right. To see if he’d stay on the board or fold and run.

The dude was quiet, nothing but the sounds of kissing from the couple on the chair and the music thrumming downstairs, and then…a clear voice, quiet but sure spoke up.

“Pull down the strap of her dress, Jason,” the boyfriend told his friend.

Rika and I were locked, watching each other, but I heard the shffle of clothes, heated breaths, and a moan.

“Yeah,” the girl in the chair panted, now having the full blessing of her boyfriend to enjoy this.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see skin, the top of her dress having been pulled down, and their movements quickened, more excited and ready.

I couldn’t read Rika’s expression but I definitely knew part of her enjoyed this. She might hate herself, but that rush of power felt good, didn’t it? There was nothing like playing people.

And she was good at it. No one had ever indulged me before. Except Winter. Not one of my friends had the patience or the interest.

I liked Rika. Michael had barely tapped into everything she was capable of.

But this wasn’t why she was here. She wanted to talk.

“Alright, you three,” I spoke up, inhaling a full breath. “Take your money and get out. I’ve got business.”

“Huh?” The guy sounded out of breath.

“Are you serious?” The girl suddenly pulled her arms up to cover her half-naked body.

“Out,” I growled. “Now.”

They stood up, heaving sighs of aggravation, because they were all finally into it, wet and hard and ready to go.

“Go finish it in your car,” I mumbled, heading over to the cabinet and taking out a pack of cigarettes.

They left, taking their money, and I waved off the driver to leave us alone, too. Once the door was closed, I turned my head to Rika as I unwrapped a new pack.

“I want to play chess with you someday,” I teased.

“Haven’t you been?”

I turned back to the cabinet, smiling to myself. Having her as an opponent would be a real challenge, but I think I preferred her on my side.

I packed the cigarettes, hitting them against the back of my hand, and feeling it again.

The pressure. The need to release.

Winter.

I had her close now. Finally.

But I was being pulled with the need to end it quickly and the desire to drag it out long and slow.

She was home. Right now. Probably trying to devise some way to escape, and let her try, for all I care. I’d enjoy hunting her ass down. That stupid, dumb shit I married might make some good-looking kids, but she wouldn’t be half as enjoyable as owning that little girl will be.

Yeah, Ari’s little sister was nothing like her. Winter would put up a fight. She’ll give me hell, and not only was I getting my revenge on her for what she did to me years ago, but I was going to have it all now. The head of the table, domain over my own house, and my favorite fucking toy.

The city lights glittered out the windows as I walked to one of the tables. Meridian City, the metropolis less than an hour from my hometown and where Winter slept, shimmered and shined below, but I had no ambition to be a part of it tonight. Sometimes I liked the clubs—the music, the noise, the sex—but that was the thing about me. I only loved one thing at a time.

A smile curled my lips, and I unwrapped the pack and stuck a cigarette in my mouth, lighting the end.

“You better have something good for me,” I said to Rika, inhaling a puff and getting down to business. “Our little rendezvous come with strings attached, girl.”

“Healthy relationships require a little reciprocation,” she replied. “What I brought you last time was the motherload, Damon. Now it’s your turn.”

I let out a little laugh, pinching the cigarette between my thumb and finger as I took another drag. “I gave you info.”

“You gave me no proof,” she retorted.

I sucked on the cigarette again, filling my lungs with the sweet sting and tipping my head back to blow it back out in a stream above my head. Such a fucking little monster, that one.

“Come here,” I told her, not turning around to look at her.

Winter wasn’t the only woman in my head. This one and I still had a score to settle, too.

I didn’t hear anything for a moment, but then I saw her emerge from the shadows out of the corner of my eye.

But she stopped short.

“Closer,” I taunted.

Another couple of steps, and I could see blonde hair falling down her form to my left.

But I still didn’t look at her.

“Closer.” I grinned.

Slowly, she approached, stopping just short of arm’s reach.

Picking another cigarette out of the pack, I finally turned my head, met her eyes, and held the cigarette out to her.

She looked like she was undercover or some shit, dressed like she was, but that was okay. I liked that our meetings were secret. This was a part of her Michael didn’t have.

I raised my eyebrows, waving the cigarette back and forth for her to take it. I knew she liked them.

But a little smile crossed her eyes, and she pulled her hand out of her pocket, holding up her palm with an entire un-opened pack of Davidoffs that she’d already stolen from my stash tucked in her hand.

“Jesus Christ,” I mumbled.

She plucked the cigarette out of my hand, taking it anyway and skimming it under her nose to smell. “Thanks.”

I shook my head. She must’ve snuck into my apartment at Delcour to look for me there first and raided my stash.

Sticking the cigarette in my mouth, I closed the cabinet and walked away.

“Those are my rooms,” I warned her. “Stay out when I’m not there.”

I didn’t want her going through my shit.

“They’re not your rooms,” she argued. “Michael doesn’t know you’re still staying there, and I can change that at any time.” She slid the cigarette into her breast pocket. “Thanks to me, you can still hide out right under our noses.”

“And thanks to me, Michael doesn’t know that you’re letting me hide out right under your noses.” I pinned her with a look. “Your ass would be grass just as much as mine, so stow it.”

She cocked an eyebrow but didn’t press further. She knew she had more reason to be afraid of me than I did of her.

Still, though…as much as I kind of enjoyed our little exchanges, it pissed me off she wasn’t wary of me anymore. After everything I’d tried to do to her and could still do to her.

I looked up, seeing her staring at me.

“What?” I took another drag, walking over to the windows.

“I thought you’d blackmail him with the info I got,” she explained. “Or ruin some of his partnerships.”

She was talking about Winter’s father.

“I must say, you exceeded my imagination.”

“Impressed?” I glanced over my shoulder at her as I flicked off the ashes on my cigarette.

“Scared,” she clarified.

I chuckled. “I can live with that.”

“And guilty.” She sat down on the arm of one of the couches, and I could see her watching me out of the corner of my eye. “I can’t believe you did that today. You went for the jugular, and man, you know how to commit, don’t you? What the hell have I gotten her into?”

“Aw, don’t worry. She was going to answer to me with or without your help sooner or later anyway.” I blew out smoke and turned around, heading for the ashtray on the table.

“Don’t hurt her,” Rika said.

But I just breathed out another laugh as I ground the butt of the cigarette into the dish. “Coming from the woman who offered up all the info I needed to take her father, her home, and her fortune.”

Winter’s father shared the same accountant as Rika’s family. The same disgruntled and anxious accountant who hinted that Winter’s father, Griffin Ashby, might have swindled Rika’s late father on some real estate deals years ago. I’m not quite sure how she got the proof, but she didn’t show up at my door until she had it, knowing it might be exactly what I needed to take down the Ashbys.

And in exchange, I’d help her get something she needed, as well. Something I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to give her just yet. I liked her coming around, and I didn’t want it stop.

“You know what I mean,” she continued. “Don’t hurt her.”

You mean other than taking everything Winter owned and putting her in a perpetual state of dependence on me?

Or hurt her as in…

Yeah, that was what you meant, wasn’t it? Don’t hurt her.

“Do you know how much Will bled in prison?” I asked her. “Do you know how hard Kai had to fight to hold down any food because his gut raged with nerves and fear from constantly having to look over his shoulder?”

Her stern look remained steady on me.

“Do you know that no matter what Michael paid or who he bribed, there were people paying more to see the rich, entitled sons of the Thunder Bay elite suffer in prison?” I kept going. “Do you have any idea how sick they both got from lack of food and sleep to balance the fucking excess of fear and pain?”

Her gaze dropped for a moment, uncomfortable, but she stayed quiet.

“Yeah, well, neither do I,” I told her. “Because I wasn’t there.”

Her eyes shot up, looking confused. I walked, circling the perimeter of the room as I continued. “Three levels below cell block six, in the basement, down a dank corridor, below five feet of concrete, is where I was.” I fisted my hands, the anger returning almost immediately. “For three years. You didn’t know that, did you?”

Her eyes, so blue even in this dark room, pierced mine.

“Banks thought she was doing me a favor,” I said. “And Gabriel agreed with her. He had too many enemies and those enemies had soldiers on the inside. I was more at risk than Kai and Will, so I was put in solitary confinement.” I drew in a deep breath, the blood under my skin growing hot. “Twenty-three hours a day, seven days a week, all day, every day, for one-hundred-sixty weeks. That’s one-thousand-one-hundred-twenty days. Twenty-six-thousand-eight-hundred-eighty hours, Rika.”

My fingers tingled with the urge to dig into my skin, but I held back.

“I was allowed outside one hour a day, but even then I was alone.” I walked around the room, glancing at her as I spoke. “I ate alone, I walked alone, I did everything alone. My father didn’t want me killed, so I was cut off from everyone.”

I started circling the couch she sat on, and without thinking, I skated my hand over the portable bar, tugging on the corner and making the bottles clink together. Heat trailed up my neck.

“The first day, you’re wondering what’s going on,” I explained. “No one’s saying anything. No one will answer your questions. You can’t see anything but your little plot of cement. And after the first week, you start talking to yourself a little just because there’s nothing to do, and you’re getting really fucking bored.”

“You mean lonely?” she jabbed.

“Pissed off,” I gritted out, correcting her. “No one is coming to visit. Where’s Banks? She would be there. Why are they keeping me from her?” And then I nod at her. “But you know you can take it. You can take anything they dole out. Will’s fine. Kai’s fine. They’ll be fine.”

I kept circling the room, the muscles in my neck suddenly tight as I dragged my hand over the surface of tables and walls, going a little faster now and my fingers digging in as I held her stare.

“But a month in, you start to find that your head is heavy,” I said, growing breathless at the memory. “Really fucking heavy, Rika, like you can’t lift it. So you start doing things to snap yourself out of it, like banging it into the wall over and over again.”

I brushed past a vase and sent it crashing to the wooden floor, but I didn’t stop. I was in my cell again, circling the eight-by-eight-foot square and going mad.

“And your skin feels tight, and the walls are pressing against your lungs, so you can’t breathe, and your brain starts slipping sideways, because the world looks so different now than it used to.” I sucked in a breath and squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. “And you just want to run—run hard. And breathe. You’re crawling inside yourself. You don’t just want out of the room. You want out of your skin.”