I can’t help a smile myself. Bianca said the same thing when we entered the ladies’ room at Aces before we discovered the cooler of hearts. At least she hasn’t lost her sense of humor, even in the face of certain conflict. Perhaps even death.
A chill runs through me.
No. Need to focus.
We move to Rouge’s dining room, which is dominated by a huge table covered in red velvet. An ornate candelabra sits in the center, flanked by large salt and pepper grinders in the shapes of chess pieces. A buffet topped by a china cabinet stands at the other end of the room. Inside is a set of china, bright scarlet with gold trim. I open a wide drawer to reveal a gleaming set of silverware, including an impressive set of steak knives. I pocket one.
Still no Rouge.
We move then to her powder room, her private library, and a large balcony overlooking the Chicago skyline. We work our way through her apartment until we have only one room left.
Her bedroom.
My heart drops as we approach the door. Unlike everything else in Rouge’s apartment, it is painted in the darkest shade of obsidian. I press an ear against the door.
Stifled sounds of moaning, as if someone is bound and gagged in Rouge’s bed.
I look to Bianca. “Someone’s in there. And it’s not just Rouge.”
She swallows but then steadies her beautiful face. “Do you think she has the Kings with her?”
“Possibly. But it sounds like she might also have a hostage or something. Like someone is trying to speak but they have duct tape over their mouths.”
She widens her eyes. “You don’t think… Alissa and Maddox?”
“Fuck,” I whisper. “We should have checked in with Dinah before getting here.” I pull out my cell phone. “Rouge must have something that blocks cell signal here. I have no bars.”
“Then there’s only one thing to do.” Bianca places her hand on the doorknob. “Whatever is in here, we’ll tackle it together.”
I place my hand on top of hers. “That we will, babe.” I look back at Chet and Vanya. “You guys ready?”
“Yes.”
“Indubitably.”
I give Bianca’s hand one last squeeze, and we open the door together.
And my heart sinks.
Because not only are we greeted by the grinning mug of Rouge Montrose, who seems completely unsurprised to see the four of us.
But the couple in the bed, tied up and gagged like rodeo steers…
They aren’t Maddox and Alissa.
It’s two different people.
Two people I recognize instantly.
And I know why they’re in this bed. I know exactly fucking why.
Jesus Christ.
We’re so fucked.
37
BIANCA
