Page 103 of Gamble with Me
“What will Zyon do with Chester?” I asked when the heavy silence became unbearable. My worry for Zyon spiked too high, knowing how much effort he put into hiding his identity.
“Nothing,” Malin grumbled, casting me a scrutinizing glance. “Why?”
“I saw Chester talking at the funfair with some older man that Alice recognized as maybe being Giovanni Valentino,” I replied, studying his face with the same precision he did. “You know my husband is involved with powerful people, right?”
“Chester’s life hangs by a thread, Valeria,” Malin disclosed cryptically, turning back to the road. His profile showed nothing—no emotions or feelings. It was completely blank. Even the grip of his hand on the steering wheel lessened as if he realized it could give me some indication of the status of the current situation.
“Does Zyon plan to cut that thread?” I inquired, feeling my stomach cramping. The alcohol and the adrenaline put it in an unenvious state, and I only hoped I wouldn’t start throwing up.
Malin inhaled a deep breath, keeping me in a prison created by silence and his slow, evasive answers. I needed direct responses, or I didn’t know how long I would manage to hold my emotions under control.
The fear of Zyon doing something stupid was eating me alive, but I forced my mind to trust him. He’d been in this business for years. He almost sacrificed our relationship to keep his identity hidden. He wouldn’t throw everything recklessly out the window because of Chester’s provocation.
“If Zyon could kill your husband, he would’ve done it the moment he laid his eyes on you for the first time,” Malin muttered as if he was afraid someone might hear him. “But if you ever claim I said it, I will deny it. Zyon doesn’t want you to know how crazy he is about you.”
“I received that information a long time ago,” I pointed out with a smile, unable to fight the emotions filling my chest. My love for Zyon consumed me since he texted me back.
Mon cœur. The loving pet name he gave me confirmed my greatest wish. He was my stalker. The man who brought me back to life, who made me feel desired and cherished. He protected me in every possible definition of that word. He risked over two hundred million to win me in a poker game.
Jesus! The guy was utterly crazy.
“Did George Harrow really die because of me?” I whispered, hoping I wasn’t crossing some imaginary line. I should’ve probably asked Zyon for clarification, but the murder had been on my mind since they hung him before my window. I needed the answer yesterday.
“No.” Malin slowly shook his head, taking a rapid turn that pushed me against the door. He drove like a maniac. “George’s fate was sealed long before he became a threat to your and Zyon’s affair.”
“You hung him before my window,” I exhaled exasperatedly, clenching my fists. Just the thought of Zara seeing the mutilated body made me furious.
“It was a message for your husband, Valeria,” Malin replied, glimpsing at me. “Zyon wanted you to see it and understand that whoever makes threats to you will die. And Chester received a memo. We know he’s behind everything.”
“What does it mean everything?” I gripped the door handle to prevent my body from colliding with the door again, trying to ignore the speed at which we rushed to Lisa’s house.
“If Zyon wants you to know the specifics, he will answer your questions,” Malin answered diplomatically, pointing upfront. “Which house? I don’t know the exact address.”
“The last one.”
I looked outside the window at the quiet night street. Zara should be fast asleep. Waking her up would be a shock, but it was necessary. I had to hide her from Chester before deciding my next move. I didn’t want her to spend a second with him.
“Anyway.” I turned to Malin, who raised a brow at me. “You just told me more in a few minutes than during weeks of working in your casino.”
“It’s not my casino,” he uttered, parking before the white wooden fence. “And I’m not a talker either.”
He grasped my hand tightly while he scanned the outside world. I frowned but didn’t move, waiting for him to let me go. He watched our surroundings for more long seconds, challenging my patience.
“In and out, Valeria,” he said, drifting his gaze from a sleepy neighborhood to me. “Don’t pack. Don’t small talk with your mother-in-law. Take the girl and go. Understood?”
The simplewhyburned my tongue, but I didn’t ask. Malin’s behavior confirmed my husband’s power. It was pointless to waste time with questions. My task was to take Zara and leave, and that was what I attempted to do.
“Yes,” I confirmed, opening the car door.
The street was dark and quiet. Only two lamps enlightened the sidewalk. The trees on Lisa’s property cast ominous shadows on the house and front yard, intensifying my anxiety.
I felt watched not only by Malin but by someone else. My paranoia took the best of me, turning my courage into raw fear. My hand trembled when I pushed the key into the lock and opened the front door, entering the dark hall.
The single lamp in the living room was on, throwing light on a sleeping Lisa. I quickly approached her, seeing Malin observing the street through the window.
“Lisa,” I whispered, gently poking her shoulder. Her eyes snapped wide open, and she looked disoriented for a moment but quickly recognized me. “I‘m taking Zara.”
“What?” she whispered, jumping to her feet. “Now? It’s the middle of the night.”
