Wild Aces (19 page)

“Hell of a win, Trap,” Marky said from the table in front of me.

“Fuck yeah!” Pete yelled, holding up his beer. “Took that bastard down like he deserved.”

More of the guys raised their drinks in the air and commented on my win. When the girls started to flock around us, I looped Vera’s arm through mine.

“Walk with me.”

“Of course, honey,” she whispered.

I thanked some of the guys as I passed them, and we made our way to the back of the lounge. Once we got through the employee-only door and I made sure the hallway was clear, I slipped an envelope into her apron.

“I can’t, Trapper.”

“You can.” I stopped her hand from taking it out. “And you will. For me.”

Vera did all right at Aced. She made enough to pay her rent, buy a bus pass, and feed and clothe herself. She couldn’t afford a whole lot more. That was where I came in. She fought me every time I gave her money, and all it did was make me want to give her more.

She cupped my cheek and kissed it, that smoky smell following her the whole way. “Only for you. But you’re too much.”

“I’ll come see you before I leave.”

When she nodded, I squeezed her hand and headed for Roman’s office. I knocked once and waited.

“My hustler!” he yelled through the door. “Get the hell in here.”

I closed the door behind me. “Hustler? Nah, I straight-up schooled that overconfident punk.”

We shook hands, and I took a seat.

“Yeah, you did. I watched it again this morning. Hell of a win, boy.”

“Baylor thought he had won the hand before he even saw the flop. He’s got no patience. That’ll get him every time.”

Roman’s eyes narrowed. “I expected you here last night. The only thing that would have kept you from coming here is the woman who left glitter all over your lips. That true?”

“Something like that…but it didn’t go like I wanted it to.”

“No?”

“I had a brother. You don’t know anything about that, do you?”

He gripped the corner of his desk as he pulled himself closer. “You have a brother?”

“Had. He’s dead. Not long either.”

“Aw, Trapper.” His eyes glimmered.

It was a stronger reaction than I expected, and it showed me he didn’t know and that he really cared about it. And me.

“Yeah. It turns out Brea was dating him when he was killed. She thought I was him when she saw me. Freaked her out big time.”

“Keep talking.”

“I don’t know much…” I glanced down at my phone that was now sitting in my lap, knowing his obituary picture was just a click away. “We’re twins—identical, by the looks of him. Raised in Connecticut. He didn’t know about me. He was a cop. A detective.”

“A cop?” He laughed. “You sure you guys came from the same uterus?”

“The thought crossed my mind, too.”

“Trapper, I don’t get something. How come this girl just figured out you look like her ex?”

“We met at a masquerade party. She saw my face for the first time last night.”

“Now, it makes sense.”

I crossed my boot over my knee, playing with the leather wraps around my wrist. “She’s got some connection of hers looking into it.”

“What about you?” He sat back in his chair, his posture stiff and upright. “Are you looking into it?”

“I asked Adrianna, and now, I’m asking you.”

“What did Adrianna say?”

“She never saw anything about it and didn’t know. But my records weren’t typical. Something like that wouldn’t have been in there. Hell, they barely had any information on me at all.”

He shook his head. “Jesus, kid.”

“Brea seems pretty confident in her source. If she can’t find anything, I’ll figure out my next move.”

He picked up his phone. “Darlin’, bring me a drink.” He looked at me. “You want one?”

“Nah. I’m good.”

He hung up and crossed his arms over his desk. “You’ve got some heavy shit happening right now. Things at the compound are swinging faster than you can keep up with; you’re booked solid with tournaments. Now, there’s Brea and whatever that turns into and this business with your brother.”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” I wasn’t sure if I was lying just to him or to both of us.

“Just be careful, kid. One thing I’ve learned is that some truths are better left buried.”

Buried, like my brother. I could leave things that way, never learn how it all went down, never know why he was put in a good house and I wasn’t. Maybe the digging wouldn’t turn up anything. Or maybe it would, and the answers would hurt worse than not knowing. Either way, I had to know. And I had to know how it would all affect Brea and me.

Brea

I swiped some beige gloss over my lips and tossed the tube back into my makeup drawer. Then I moved over to the full-length mirror and turned to see all the angles of my outfit. Jeans, sweater, boots. It wasn’t a date, so my outfit would do just fine. It wasn’t a meet-up either. Net hadn’t dug up anything so far. This meeting was for Trapper and me to talk about what was happening between us. Or what wasn’t happening but maybe would. Or what could be happening and should.

It was pretty confusing, whatever it was.

I walked into the kitchen and slipped on my jacket, tossed my purse over my shoulder, and grabbed my phone. Then I scrolled through my texts until I found the one with Trapper’s address. I pulled it up on my Map app, trying to decide whether to walk or take a taxi.

622 Dartmouth Street
.
Why is that address so familiar?

I dealt with addresses and locations all day, every day with my job. Surely, it was just another place on another street that I’d heard about at some point.

Then it hit me.

I rushed into the guest bedroom that I had converted into an office and opened the closet, reaching for the box that I kept in the back. It was a nondescript plain cardboard box with no label. It didn’t need one. It was Cody’s box. Everything I had left of him fit in this three-feet-by-three-feet cube. A month after he died, I took all of his things from my apartment, packed it inside the box, and sealed the lid.

I hadn’t opened it since.

“Mom,” I said, wiping the tears from my eyes. They wouldn’t stop pouring down my cheeks. They wouldn’t stop falling over my lips. Nothing would stop…except my breathing. I didn’t think I was doing any of that. “I can’t look at his stuff anymore. It’s everywhere, and he’s not here. If I can’t have him back, then I don’t want it here.”

“Baby girl, come here.” She pulled me against her, and I felt my body start to relax. There was warmth on my forehead from her lips and friction on my back from where she rubbed. “I’ll help you box it all up. We’ll do it together, so it won’t take as long.”

“Okay.”

I could do this. With her help, I could box up his things even though I wanted them here, even though they reminded me of him, even though they reminded me that he would never be coming back. I could do this because I really didn’t want his things here. I wanted
him
here, and if he couldn’t be, then…his things were just things.

“Do you have a box that’ll fit?”

“There’s one in the hall closet,” I said. “In the back under my jackets.”

She walked me down the hall, placed me before the door, and turned the handle. “You can do this, Brea.”

“Okay.”

“No, baby, you need to say those words. You need to remind yourself that you’re strong enough to do this.” She picked up the box and held it out for me to take.

Even if I didn’t mean it or didn’t believe it, I opened my mouth and spoke the words, “I can do this.” My hands didn’t move.

“Now…take it from me.”

She released the box when my hands were around it, and I almost dropped it. It felt like it was filled with iron, bearing down on my shaking palms.

Mom clasped her hands around my arms to steady them. “We’re just going to stand here for a few minutes until you’re ready to walk.”

“It’s so heavy,” I whispered.

“Oh, honey,” she said, her voice small and sympathetic. “The box is empty.”

I lifted the lid. She was right. There was nothing in it.

It was as empty as I was.

I pulled the box out of the closet and stood in front of it. I took long, steady deep breaths, just as I had when I stood in the hallway with my mom that day. The box wasn’t empty now; there were memories inside there, a reminder of a reality that I wasn’t sure I was ready to unlock.

But I had to know the truth, for Trapper as much as for me.

I lifted the lid and dug inside. I remembered placing the scrap of paper in the flap of Cody’s wallet, and I’d pushed it to the bottom of the box. I’d found it on my coffee table when I returned home from the morgue. He must have written it sometime that morning, as I had just cleaned the table, but I was so used to him leaving notes all over the place—clues he needed to process, answers he thought of at random times—that I didn’t think anything of it.

But now, I held the piece of paper between my fingers and read the address that was written in the center.

622 DARTMOUTH STREET

Just like Trapper’s text.

A chill ran through my entire body.

Holy fuck, Cody.

He knew his brother’s address.

“Hey,” Trapper said as he opened the door.

“I have…to…show you…something,” I huffed. I walked into the entryway and turned around, waiting for him to catch up. I had practically sprinted the eight blocks to his place and had no breath left.

When we got to the living room, I grabbed his hand, flipped it over, and laid the piece of paper on his palm.

“This is my address.”

“Yes, it is.”

“So, why are you showing it to me?”

“I found this in my apartment the night Cody died. It wasn’t there the day before. I think he wrote it that morning. I just put it away with all his things. But then I got your text, and I remembered I had it.”

I stared at his face as it registered. The shock wasn’t nearly as intense as it had been two nights ago when he took off his mask. Now, I immediately saw the differences between him and Cody, and they were so obvious. Most people wouldn’t notice them, but it was all I could focus on. It helped keep them separate in my mind even if it did nothing to settle the feeling in my stomach.

“There’s more.” I pulled up my Map app and typed in a different address, watching it generate a walking route between where I was currently standing to the address I had typed. I turned the phone toward him. “That’s the spot where Cody was killed.”

He took the phone out of my hand, so he could study it. “That’s only two blocks from here.”

“And his car was heading west.”

“This street is one-way.”

We were coming to the same conclusion.

“Unless he planned to turn at the cross street,” I said, “I think he was on his way here—”

“When he was killed,” Trapper said, finishing our shared thought.

He carried my phone to the couch and sank into it as I looked around his place. Trapper’s taste and style were so different from Cody’s. Even though I’d never been here before, I could tell Derek had done the remodel. His touches were everywhere—lots of wood, sharp lines, an open floor plan. All of it was done in black and grays; the only pop of color was silver. It was so clean, so modern.

So cold.

Like Trapper.

“He was coming here,” he said again, as though the idea was really starting to resonate.

I sat on the couch, leaving a whole cushion of space between us. “I think so.”

He finally glanced up, our eyes connecting. “How do you think he found out about me?”

“I have no idea.” I stared around the room, trying to look anywhere but at him. “Are your poker games ever on TV?”

“The tournaments have been, yeah.”

“Cody didn’t watch poker, but one of his friends or colleagues might have. All they’d have to do was see you on the screen and tell Cody about you. He had access to lots of information, so he easily could have looked you up.” Another thought surfaced, one that hadn’t hit me at first. “He didn’t tell me about you.”

Trapper twirled the leather around his wrist. “Was anyone else in the car with him when he died?”