Page 13 of The Grandmaster's Pawn (Checkmate)

He barks a laugh, then wraps his thick fingers around my bicep and pulls me out into the light before he lets me crumple to the floor.

“Listen to me, you little whore,” he says, his lips only inches from mine. I cough and turn my head, but he grabs my chin hard enough to leave bruises and forces me to look at him. “You are going to behave, or you will suffer. Do you understand?” He squeezes my throat, cutting off my air, and my feet scramble for purchase on the cold concrete.

As my vision darkens, he lets me go, and I suck in huge lungfuls of air. By the time I no longer feel like I’m going to pass out, he has his phone in hand. Matthias comes up behind me, clamps his hand over my mouth, and pulls me up, my feet dangling helplessly two inches off the ground.

“Daniel, you have ninety minutes to bring my Lady to Tivoli Park. My associate will meet you. Once you hand her over, I will tell you where your little toy is.”

Tears burn my eyes until I hear Daniel’s strained voice. “I need proof of life, Ulrich. And don’t send me another bloody video. I want tospeakto Gemma. Now.”

Despite the pain in my heart, hearing him upset—desperate—does something to me. He cares for me. I know he does. There’s nothing that will make me trust him again, but it wasn’t all a ruse.

Can I send him a message? Something to let him know where I am? Lordship Lane?

Ulrich turns towards me, and though I can’t see Daniel, not without my glasses, movement registers on the camera screen. “Say something, Miss Watson,” Ulrich sneers.

“Daniel?” I rasp. Matthias still holds me up, one arm banded tightly under my breasts, the other at my throat. “I can’t...” Looking to Ulrich, I beg, “Please. I’m blind without my glasses and I need to...seehim.”

He makes a vagueharumphsound and steps closer. Daniel’s face is still so blurry I can’t make out his eyes, but the terror in his voice is so obvious.

“Gemma. I am so sorry. Have they hurt you?” He curses under his breath. “Fuck me, I can see the bruises, but...bijou, did they...?”

“N-no.” I sniffle loudly. “All those nights playing chess...were they all a lie?” I can think of only one way to work the word Lord into anything Ulrich would let me tell Daniel, and it’s so obscure, I don’t know if it’ll even work.

“Fuck me. No, but you must listen now, Gemma. What would you play if I started our game by moving my pawn to e4?” The anguish in his voice makes my tears spill over.

He understands. And he’s giving me the chance to tell him something.

“The Scottishde Sigellogambit,” I whisper. Then, because I can’t help myself, I add, “I’m scared, Daniel.”

I can’t see his expression, only a bright glow and a hint of dark hair from the blurry phone screen in Ulrich’s hand. But Daniel’s voice softens. “I know, darling. I will fix this. I promise. And when we’re together again—”

“Enough,” Ulrich barks and turns the phone back around. “Tivoli Park, ninety minutes. Or you will never see Miss Watson again.”

Before Ulrich can disconnect the call, I scream, “Don’t trust him, Daniel! Run!”

Matthias curses and slaps his hand over my mouth, drags me back to the closet and shoves me so hard, my head hits the wall. Somewhere underneath my pounding heart, I hear the closet door slam, but darkness has already taken my sight, and I let myself give in. I can’t fight any more. I don’t want to. I just want to sleep.

Eight

Daniel

After Gemma’s scream, Ulrich prattles on for another few seconds, vague threats about carving his name into her flesh before he cuts off her head. Both of which I know he’s capable of. But my mind is racing. De Sigello isn’t a known gambit.

“I’ll be there, you son of a bitch. Just…” My voice cracks, and I can’t keep a single moment of vulnerability from slipping through my control. “Don’t hurt her again.”

“What I do with her depends on you, Daniel. Show up with my Lady, and your bitch will live.”

The call disconnects, and on the video screen to my left, Tatiana clucks her tongue. “That bastard deserves what is coming to him.”

“And more. Did you get anything off the trace?”

She shakes her head. “He is still in London. But that is all I can tell you. He is a brute who hates technology, but he knows how to mask his mobile signal. And as you are not going anywhere near Tivoli Park, we have less than ninety minutes to find them.”

“There is nothing I will not do to save her, Tatiana. If that means bringing the Lady to Tivoli Park, I will do it.”

“And you will die.” With a huff, Tatiana pins me with a hard stare. “Do not think for a moment Ulrich will do what he promised. He will not let Miss Watson go, and he will not let you live.”

She’s right. But if I lose Gemma, I will not survive it. Turning to my keyboard, I bring up a search engine and search for De Sigello. “What would a twelfth century Scottish lord have to do with Gemma? Or me?”

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