He shoved the rest of his chips onto the table, then sat back.

Conrad said nothing, but the force of his gaze was like a laser. Clearly he wanted to win and badly. He tapped the table and the dealer gave him a last card. A two of spades.

Thank fuck for lady luck. Because unless Conrad had a low straight, that was pretty damn bad for him. The man raised an eyebrow but shoved his last set of chips onto the table.

August grunted when he was dealt a king, frowning a little. But he got rid of the last of his chips all the same.

Alex looked at the other two men. Then he put his hand down. "Three aces."

Conrad's gaze flickered. Then he shrugged and put down his without comment. It was nothing. A queen and a couple of off suits.

August cursed and threw down his. A pair of queens.

Alex ignored the strange shot of intense relief that coursed through him. Which was just fucking insane, since relief was never an emotion he felt when winning a game. Sometimes there was pleasure at beating an opponent or satisfaction at a good bluff. But most of the time Alex didn't care much whether he won or lost, and that was part of the reason he was so good at it.

Not caring was the key.

Yet now he didn't want to pick up his tumbler or even touch his cards again because he was sure his hand was shaking. Jesus, he was a fucking wreck.

He allowed his smile to turn feral with satisfaction. "My game, I believe, gentlemen."

On his left, the sheikh rose abruptly from the table as if he'd been waiting for this moment for some time. "On that note, forgive me, Mr. South, but I have to withdraw for the evening. I have some other business I need to attend to."

Conrad too was smiling. As if he hadn't only lost a considerable amount of money but also the chance to dig his knife in as deep as it would go. "But of course, Your Highness. In fact, it is rather late. Perhaps we should end the evening on a high note and finish for the night now?" He glanced at Alex. "Congratulations, son. I presume you won't need the girl now, since you already have company tonight?"

"Why, Conrad? Welshing on a bet?" This time when Alex picked up his tumbler, it was rock steady. "Surely you should know that three in a bed is always more fun."

The older man's glaze flickered away as if he'd already lost interest. "Put your dress on," he said coldly to the woman behind him. "And meet Mr. St. James by the door. You're his for the evening."

The others were beginning to rise from the table as their various aides and entourages approached. The hum of conversation started up as people began the process of leaving. Conrad was talking to August, the two of them laughing at something.

A warm hand rested on Alex's shoulder again. Katya. "I was never in any danger," she murmured quietly from behind him. "I wouldn't have let anyone touch me."

He didn't want her to see his relief. Or his guilt. "Not here," he said, a terse reminder.

"Of course." Instantly her hand left his shoulder. "What are you going to do with the girl?"

As he pushed himself out of his chair, he could feel the weight of Conrad's gaze from the other end of the table. Assessing. Measuring. Looking for reaction. Alex bared his teeth at Conrad, his turn to wiggle the knife. "What do you think?" he said flippantly, making sure his voice carried. "We're all going to have a party together."

Silence behind him. Then she asked quietly, "Can you help me with this zipper?"

He turned to where she stood behind him, pleased to have the opportunity to give Conrad his back.

"I know you're not serious about the woman," Katya murmured. "You're trying to get information, aren't you?"

A narrow, pale strip of flesh showed between the two halves of Katya's dress, but he tried not to notice it as he carefully drew her zipper up. "That's the plan."

"Good. It was worth it then. And he didn't get anything from you."

She was wrong. Conrad had gotten something. Somehow he'd gotten Alex to care.

Ignoring her comment, he took her by the arm. "Time to go, sweetheart."

They started to move toward the exit, only to have Conrad catch them at the door, the brunette, now dressed, at his heels.

"Thank you for being so accommodating," he said to Katya, taking her hand and bowing over it in a pretentious, courtly kind of way. "Also for the view."

Katya's mouth twitched in a fake smile. "I'm a model. I'm used to taking my clothes off."

"And you can do that anytime, my dear." Conrad's hooded gaze switched to Alex, and despite his best intentions, he could feel anger blaze hot inside him like a fire. "Tomorrow night, son. And bring your lady friend with you again. It's always nice to have a bit of decoration about the place."

No. He wasn't going to bring Katya again. Of that he was certain. This was a private matter and it was better that she wasn't around, messing with his concentration. But he only gave a shrug, noncommittal. No point revealing his decision yet. "Perhaps."

"Oh, I think you should. You wouldn't want to find yourself cut out of the game now, would you?"

Alex let his smile become edged and sharp. "In that case, how can I refuse? I just hope you have something worth putting on the table next time round. Sexual favors are, after all, passe these days."

Conrad laughed. "As you say. But never fear, I think you'll be pleasantly surprised." He raised his hand, and before Alex could avoid it Conrad clapped him on the back. And when Conrad let his hand drop, Alex felt the man's fingers trail over him. A subtle reminder.

A long-forgotten nausea churned in his gut. He wanted to break those trailing fingers. Grab that arm and shove the man to the ground. Twist it until that broke too. Until the crawling feeling had disappeared from his skin.

But he didn't. He only smiled as if the touch meant nothing.

Maybe, when he had Conrad on his knees, he would pull that trigger after all.

Outside, the bite of winter was a welcome relief, chasing away the lingering sensation of Conrad's fingers. The brunette followed them to the car without a word, but Alex felt her muscles tighten as he put a hand on her back to help her in.

Oh, she definitely didn't want to be here; that much was certain.

He waited until they were all in the car and the doors closed, their privacy assured. Then he turned to the woman who was sitting next to him. "You don't want to be here, do you?"

She gave him one startled glance before the walls came down again, her expression impassive. "Of course I want to be here," she said mechanically. Her voice was thin, her accent American, from the South it sounded like.

"No, you don't. I know a willing woman when I see one and you're not it."

Her hands were tightly clasped in her lap, her fingers long and thin. She kept her gaze fastened on them. "I'm sorry. I really do want-"

"Where did you get those bruises?"

She seemed to shrink into the seat, not speaking, not moving, radiating terror.

"Answer him," Katya ordered crisply from the seat opposite them. "We will not hurt you."

Alex flicked a glance at her. That tone wasn't likely to help, surely?

"From him," the woman said unexpectedly, the words suddenly rushing out. "He likes to put his hands on my throat."

"Why do you let him?" Again, Katya's voice was firm, the question an order.

"Because I don't have a choice." Her head bowed, brown hair hiding her features. She was trembling.

Fucking hell. Alex didn't touch her, knowing that would be unwelcome. "What's your name?"

The woman shook her head. "I c-can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"They'll kill me. They said they would if I ever told anyone. And they'd make sure..." She took a ragged breath. "That no one would f-find my body."

He didn't think it was possible to get any angrier. He was wrong. "They will not hurt you," he said, letting the iron of his rage creep into the words. "No one will ever hurt you again."

Her head lifted, her gaze flicking to his for a second, then darting away again. But he could feel her shock.

"Here's what's going to happen," he said. "I need to know the answer to a few questions. Then my driver is going to take you to the airport, where I have a jet that will take you wherever you want to go."

She began to shake her head, her body still trembling.

"You can trust him." Katya's tone was firm. Again, like an order. "You have my word."

The woman raised her head, and for the first time there was a spark of defiance in her eyes. "And who the hell are you?"

"My name is Katya Ivanova. I'm Mr. St. James's bodyguard. Exspecial forces of the Russian army."

The woman's hands twisted in her lap, clearly struggling with her fear. "I ... Look, I have no money. I have no passport. I can't-"

"Leave that to me," Alex said. He'd call Zac and get him on to it. "I'll make sure you have everything you need."

Her face hardened. "What if they find me? They'll hunt me down once they know I've gone."

"Who?" he asked gently. "Conrad?"

She gave a jerky nod.

"Don't worry about him. I'll make sure he'll never bother you again. But first I need to know what happened to you."

Her head turned abruptly, her gaze on the narrow streets outside. "I'm from Georgia. I was ... taken by some men after a shift at the restaurant I used to work at. I don't know how long ago that was, maybe a year. They tied me up, brought me to ... I don't even know where. A city, I think. I was kept inside all the time and I only heard stuff like sirens and cop cars."

He glanced over at Katya, met her worried gaze. Jesus. This girl had been trafficked.

"There were other girls," she went on in the same thin, high voice, her attention firmly out of the window. "And we were brought into a room and there he was. Mr. South. He picked me and one other girl and then we were taken on an airplane here." Her mouth snapped shut all of a sudden, as if she'd said too much already.

But Alex had the information he needed. Conrad had trafficked women.

"Please don't tell the police," the woman said after a long moment. "I just want to go home."

Ah, shit, the police. The authorities had to be contacted at some point, it was true. But first Alex and Katya needed to find out more. The links between Conrad's casino and the Lucky Sevenif there were any links. The links between Conrad and his father's little group of friends, the Seven Devils. They had to find those things out first, before the authorities took it out of their hands.

Perhaps, when he got hold of Zac, he'd sic Eva onto them. She had a whole team dedicated to smashing trafficking rings and rescuing the people caught up in them. Because the thought of leaving those women there was ... not good.

He was aware suddenly of a rising rage, like a black ocean. Filling him up. Rising and rising until he was almost choking on it.

The blank faces of those women. Katya naked. A slimy touch on his back.

He's got to you. He got you to care.

His fingers clenched into a fist on his thigh, completely without his volition. He didn't want this. He didn't want to fucking care.

Isn't that what this revenge is all about?

He could feel his nails biting into his palm. Because it was too late. It was too goddamn late.

Conrad had gotten to him. He did care.

Alex said nothing as they arrived back at the Fourth Circle, but Katya could feel the rage coming from him, filling the car with tension thick enough to cut.

It was obvious that was scaring the poor woman they'd rescued, but Katya didn't know how to help or give reassurance. So she only sat in silence as the car pulled up outside the Fourth Circle building, as Alex gave instructions to the driver to get the woman to the airport.

Katya didn't understand where the anger was coming from. Alex had clearly had a plan tonight, and whatever that plan had been, it had worked. He'd won the game and had gotten the information he'd been looking for. He should be feeling triumphant surely? Or satisfied at least. Yet he wasn't.

Was it something to do with her? The fact that Conrad had forced Alex to take the dress off her? She hadn't cared about thatit didn't matter. And in fact, she'd even preferred it. As exposing as it had been to stand in front of everybody only in her panties, the feel of his hands on her hips had been reassuring. As had the way he'd put the diamond necklace around her throat.

A mark of claim. His way of protecting her.

Not that she needed protection, but it had felt good all the same. As if he'd cared.

Why should that matter to you?

But she didn't want to answer that question right now. Just as she didn't want to try to figure out why it mattered so much to her that he was angry. She just wanted to know why that was.

Perhaps it was about something deeper. Perhaps it was about whatever had happened between him and Conrad. And the women in the room ... God, did he see himself in those women? Did he see himself as another of Conrad's victims? Was that where all this was coming from?

Her fingers tightened on her clutch as they entered the Fourth Circle foyer, music and laughter from the bar bouncing off the walls and the white-tiled floor. It was late, but the place was packedpretty much normal for one of Alex's clubs.

"Why don't you go up to bed?" he said. "I'll be up in a bit."

Katya glanced at his shuttered face. So, he wasn't going to discuss it with her. Disappointment slid under her skin, sharp and cold as a knife. It was ridiculous. She had no right to feel it. She was a soldier, an employee. She did as she was told.

Yet none of that made the slightest bit of difference.

"Trust me," he'd said back in the casino. And she had. And now she wanted something in return from him. A sign that her trust was returned. But all she was getting was the usual. Blank walls and shut doors.

Of course what she should do now was what she was paid to do. Nod and go up to bed, do as she was told. Be the obedient soldier, follow her orders- No.

For a second she stayed exactly where she was, the denial echoing inside her. And she knew in that moment that tonight she wasn't going to be the good soldier and follow orders. Be the obedient employee and do what the boss said.