Black Listed(36)

“How could you lose billions from a few days of gambling?” she asked.

“Because it took over my life. If I wasn’t in Vegas, I was placing bets with bookies or playing poker on the Internet. At first, I won enough to make it seductive, as if it wasn’t really harmful. Then, I told myself I was breaking even. But before long, the losses kept accumulating.”

Even as the drug causing her dizziness left her system, Sawyer’s disclosure caused the room to spin. “Surely you didn’t gamble away billions.”

“No. But I may as well have.” He sat on the bed. “With my mind distracted constantly by the score of the football game or by the next poker tournament I had to get an invitation to, I neglected Hayes Industries. I lost huge contracts because I couldn’t be bothered to sign them. It was all about the rush.”

Hot tears filled her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“No.” He leaned forward and brushed his hands down her arms. “My gambling addiction isn’t on you. That was all me. You can take responsibility for your own actions, but you cannot be responsible for mine.”

She wasn’t sure she believed that. If she hadn’t left him . . . hell, if he’d never met her in the first place . . . would he still have turned to gambling to cope?

“How did your friends help?”

He smiled, the memories practically flickering in his eyes. “The kidnapped me and brought me out to what I later named the Paradise Lost Hotel. Spent a week basically detoxing from the addiction. No television, Internet, or phone privileges. They even brought out one of those shrinks to the stars from TV to get me to face my addiction and redirect my attention to healthier goals. My friend Oz pointed out the hotel was in a prime location for a sex club, being that it was outside the Las Vegas city limits, where it would be legal. I bought the place the next day and moved from Arizona to Vegas. I channeled all my energy into both Hayes Industries and the club. There was no time to think about you or gambling.”

So she had Oz to blame for her husband’s foray into the sex club business. She didn’t like it, but at least she understood why now. “You’re lucky you have such good friends.”

“I would’ve done the same for them, but yeah, I’m damn lucky.” His voice grew quiet. “What about you? Do you have anyone who picks you up when you fall?”

She thought about her friends. When she shattered into pieces at the end of her week with Sawyer, would they be there for her? And more importantly, would she let them?





Chapter Twelve

HE PACED ALONG the length of his trailer, pulling at his hair to get the voices to quiet. They wouldn’t stop. One by one, the voices joined in a loud chorus of teasing.

Worthless.

Stupid.

Lazy.

Nothing was going according to plan. She wasn’t supposed to be hurt. She was his. She couldn’t die until the voices told him to kill her. This time he wouldn’t mess it up. Timing was everything. Just one second too late, and they’d be separated for eternity.

Didn’t she understand he couldn’t survive without her? Her blood was on his hands, a stain that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times he washed them. This would clean him, the voices chanted. This would give him forgiveness and place him in heaven with her, where they could frolic and make love once again.

This would make the voices shut the fuck up!

If he put little holes in his scalp, maybe they’d all fall out of his brain. He couldn’t think when it got like this. Couldn’t figure out what to do next. She wasn’t supposed to stay here. She should’ve run. Why wouldn’t she run?

Tufts of hair fell all around him, the holes in his scalp easing the noise buzzing through his brain.

Think, think, think.

He needed a new plan. He couldn’t rely on the man he had entrusted. The voices must have gotten to him. Or maybe he was still as rotten and devious as the snake in the Garden of Eden, luring his wife to lie with him in sin. He had to die for his sins. Yes, the voices approved, their murmurs only a low constant hum of accord.

He’d tell him the deal was off.

Then he’d kill him. He’d kill both of them.

He’d take her to the oasis, where he could use his weapon to end their suffering.

He smiled, his hands bloody once again.

It was the perfect plan.





Chapter Thirteen

“YOU REALLY DIDN’T have to carry me all the way from the car,” she said to Sawyer as he brought her into the hotel suite. “There’s nothing wrong with my legs.”

He cradled her in his arms as he crossed the room and went into his bedroom. Then he gently deposited her onto the bed. After pulling back the blanket, he sat beside her. “Let’s take off your clothes and get you into bed.”