Bet in the Dark (18 page)

             
Too bad one of my brothers wasn’t a cop. I would have totally made them do background checks on all potential candidates.

             
Ugh. Plus, there was still the whole matter of Fin Hunter expecting me to fork over seven thousand dollars in four weeks and two days.

             
With the little free time I had over the weekend I tried really hard to hunt down Tara. I called her cell phone which was now disconnected. I Facebook stalked the begeezus out of her, but she hadn’t had any activity since before she abandoned me. Same with Twitter, Instagram and her blog.
Really, Tara? A blog?

             
Next I tried to hack into her old voicemail and email account, but she surprisingly used complicated passwords, or just not obvious ones, like her birthdate and address, because I could not figure out anything. And since her cell phone was no longer in service, apparently her voicemail wasn’t either.

             
This girl was gone, and never coming back. Which
sucked
.

             
Plus, other than the missing furniture, and really, it’s not like she broke in, she had a
key,
she didn’t actually steal real money from me. She didn’t hack into my bank account, or use my debit card unauthorized. All she’d done was sign an illegal contract illegally.

             
Not really something I could prove.

             
I trudged up the stairs to Fin’s apartment, precisely on time for our scheduled workday. By my calculations, and if I worked some overtime, by the deadline I would only owe six thousand five hundred dollars.

             
And best case scenario right now, was if he let me work the entire debt off doing this whole free slavery thing. If I did that I only had to give up my life and free time, and live penniless and destitute for the next…. two years.

             
Totally feasible.

             
My family would eventually get involved in this. There would be no way I could hide this amount of time spent with Fin and glide under Grayson and Beckett’s radar. They would ultimately find out. And the only thing more embarrassing than them thinking I was dating Fin, would be them finding out I owed him an insane amount of money and was trying to work it off through free services. Although those did not include prostitution, so at least I had that.

             
I knocked on the door to Fin’s apartment and had the strongest urge to bang my head against the cold metal instead. I was in a bad place and Fin was trying to be my friend? His texting hadn’t stopped over the weekend, although I only replied when I absolutely had to. Jameson befriending me in one of my classes? Meeting Britte and introducing his friends to us? This…. whatever we had going on had an expiration date not five weeks from today, at which point he would be forced to break my kneecaps with a baseball bat. Or at least that’s what they did in movies when they couldn’t pay.

             
“It’s about time,” Fin grunted when he opened the door for me. His expression was drawn and his eyes glared into me, pinning me in place in the hallway.

             
“What?” I fumbled for my cell phone, rechecking the time. Holding it up for him, I said, “I’m right on time.”

             
He grunted at that and then stepped out of my way. He closed the door behind me and then while I spun around wondering why he wasn’t leading the way to our work station he leaned back against the door. His arms were crossed, his eyebrows still pulled together. I fidgeted with my backpack but he made no move from the door.

             
“You told me four, it’s four,” I held up my phone again.

             
“It is four,” he allowed quietly. It was a dangerous quiet, a soft but menacing quiet. Our gazes locked from the few feet apart we were standing and he held me there unmoving. His eyes were sparkling dark chocolate, alive with some intensity I didn’t understand. The muscles in his neck and shoulders were corded tight and his jaw was clenched together as if he were physically stopping himself from doing something. I swallowed against the lump in my throat, knowing he wanted something from me, but having no idea what it was. Eventually he released me from his hold. Rubbing to rough hands over his face, he sighed heavily. “You’re not like any girl I know.”

             
I didn’t know what to say. “Thank you?”

             
“It’s not a compliment,” he scowled at me. He shoved off the door and stalked to his computer. Adjusting my chair heavily next to him, he motioned for me to sit down.

             
I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Had he really just insulted me? We were back to angry-Fin, the one that scared me to death the first time I met him.

             
“Sit,” he motioned with his hand while keeping his eyes glued to his computer screen.

             
“No,” I said simply. I was pretending bravado, especially after his shoulders tensed even more and he shot me a scathing look. Inside I was a tremulous mess.

             
“Why not?”

             
“You just insulted me,” I pointed out. “And you’re being rude.” He looked stunned at that, like he was completely unaware of how he was treating me. “I don’t know what the other girls you know-“

             
He cut me off with a fast, “They think I’m charming. They show up early when I ask them to come over. They respond to my text messages.”

             
“Oh, I see,” I nodded, working to hide a smug smile. I decided that I would oblige him then by sitting in the chair he rudely offered.

             
“You see what?” he asked in utter bafflement.

             
I sat down in my designated chair and dropped my backpack at my feet.  I reached for his laptop, turning it on and drumming my fingers impatiently on the desk.

             
“You see what?” he repeated a little bit desperately.

             
“I wounded your pride,” I turned to give him a sympathetic smile but he just stared back at me with wide, wild eyes, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe I just said that. “If you wanted me here earlier, you should have said so. Or texted. I can’t read your mind. And I did respond to your text messages. Well, some of them. I just don’t want to get in the habit of texting each other since we’re not really friends. I don’t want to confuse our business relationship. Besides, I don’t really think you needed my opinion on which pair of running shoes to buy for after you graduate. It doesn’t really matter to me. Plus, that’s forever away; we won’t really know each other then. And you can be charming, sometimes. It’s not that I don’t think you’re charming ever. It’s just that,” I cut my eyes to him, his expression slackening into hard disbelief and I figured I better just appease his vanity so we could get along with this whole poker thing. “Ok, fine, I find you really, really charming. Except when you’re yelling at me, or being rude. Other than those times, you are definitely charming.”

             
A few long moments of silence stretched out between us before he mumbled, “All I wanted was my money. Do you know that?” he looked at me, waiting for an answer but I didn’t have one. He continued, “All I wanted was my money. Instead, I got you. You, the one person in the world I have to
convince
I’m charming, and on top of that I find out that my texts are
annoying
.”

             
“I didn’t say they were annoy-“

             
“I’m lost. I have no idea who I am anymore and it’s because of you!” he was growing even more distressed and I didn’t know what to do to calm him down.

             
I wrapped my hand around his forearm, hoping to sooth him. He looked down at my hand and then up into my face and I could visibly see the worry lines fade. Taking encouragement from that, I smoothed my hand along his forearm up to his muscly bicep. Holy cow! There were so many ripples and tendons under my fingers, I may have rubbed it a little longer and harder than I needed to. I stared at my hand for a minute, letting it dip under his t-shirt sleeve and pull it up so I could see the muscles for myself. I swallowed against a shot of lust low in my belly before forcing my eyes up to Fin’s.

             
The worry lines were deeper. His whole body was strung tight. His throat bobbed with his effort to swallow.

             
Breaking the silence, I cleared my throat and then said, “Don’t worry, you only have to deal with me for the next five weeks. Actually less than five weeks. And then we will go our separate ways and life will go back to normal for you.”
But probably not for me.

             
“Five weeks,” Fin echoed thoughtfully. “Unless you get the money first.”

             
“Yeah, sure,” I agreed quickly. There was no way I could get him the money first.

             
“I want to amend our deal,” he said in a gruff voice. His eyes flickered to my hand that was still gripped against his bicep and then back up to my eyes. “Even if you hand over the money tomorrow, you still have to work for me until the end of our deal. You can’t just walk away, I need you now.”

             
I narrowed my eyes against his choice of words, but then reluctantly nodded my head. If there was a way to get him the money beforehand I would have put up a fight, but since I knew there was no way
in hell
I could come up with the money before then I decided to let him feel like he won this round.

             
“Ok, if you insist,” I sighed.

             
He nodded, working to swallow again and I suddenly got the distinct impression that he was nervous. Which then made
me
nervous…. My hand was still on his bare arm, but I just couldn’t bring myself to remove it from his hot, delicious skin. And he wasn’t exactly in a hurry to pull away from me.

             
Finally, I realized that leaving my hand on his bicep and tilting my face toward him was probably sending him the wrong message. So I withdrew my hand and then with a shaky breath waved it at the computer.

             
“We should probably get to work, yeah?” I hated the breathlessness in my voice, but he had to know his effect on girls. In fact, I knew he knew his effect on girls; he just came out and told me how they usually act around him.

             
“Right,” he mumbled, drawing back to sit up straight. He shook his head a little bit as if to bring himself back from something and a lock of hair fell across his forehead.

             
I stifled a sigh at how gorgeous he was, at how desperate I was to brush that lock of hair back with a sweep of my fingers and ignored the urge to shake my own head.

             
“So what do you want me to do tonight? I have a list of the eight people I think make good candidates for your big game, and I did some background checking on the ones scheduled to play tonight. Even though I know it’s not a high stakes game, you should still probably watch a guy named Jay Fairway, screen name: Jaybird93.” At Fin’s eye roll, I added, “I know. But his freshman year he got caught cheating in a Biology Lab and then again last year, there were allegations that he cheated again on his Child Development midterms. Plus he owes his friend Kyle thirty dollars.”

             
Fin’s expression turned serious and thoughtful, his eyebrows pulled together in that intimidating way and his jaw ticked while he thought this over. “How did you find all that out?”

             
“I sat near them in the student union Saturday afternoon. You’re friends with him on Facebook, so I saw they were going to be hanging out there and I went to see if I could get a feel for him. Kyle just happened to be talking about the money Jay owed him. I was in the class last spring that he was accused of cheating in, so that’s how I heard about that. And while those rumors were flying around, the stuff about his freshman year got brought up. I just happened to remember all that when I saw him in person. He was an easy background check, I got lucky.”

             
Fin seemed to think that over for a while before he said, “Any other concerns over the rest of the players?”

             
“No, other than I’m a little confused why Maddie Taylor is playing. She seems way too sweet for this kind of thing.”

             
“What does being sweet have to do with playing poker?” he asked incredulously.

             
“Honestly, I don’t really know. I just don’t peg her as the kind of girl who wants to be holed up in her room all night losing her hard earned money.” I admitted.

             
“You’re right about that,” he agreed. “But it’s her parents’ money, so I don’t think she’s too worried about it. She’s played a couple games before. She’s not all that great, but she’s a quick learner. She might surprise you.”