Telling me to stay away from danger and trouble was as good as handing it to me on a silver platter. I gravitate towards it with my scalp tingling and my crotch throbbing. As a result, I don’t imagine my life expectancy is particularly long, but at least I’ll go out buzzing. Probably.

The tension tore at me inside. I had an overriding need to seek out Alex and find out what the hell was going on around here. Still, a better plan would be to get close to his brother, since Zac had already shown such a keen interest in me. I’d lure him in further and work them out. They were surely working together, taking young girls and doing goodness knows what to them.

Danny had gone down in my estimations. He might have been prepared to sit around and ignore it, but I wasn’t.

In the meantime, I found myself at the island casino, since one of the best ways to let off steam and release the stress is to play. Poker had helped me through many rocky times, starting out a day feeling low and finishing up on a high. This would definitely be one of those times, I could feel it brewing already – the wave of anxiety. It scratched and tickled at me inside. These were the days when I got into trouble, when I’d follow the rush wherever it went, chasing it down.

The fact that Anna had once told me how Zac played poker was of course no bearing on my being here. I should go home. Before I did something crazy. Vacation was over, I was working now. New life, new rules. I was pretty sure that gambling at the casino, whilst looking out for the mysterious bad boy was not on Anna’s list of appropriate hobbies.

Nevertheless, I strolled out of the rest room dressed like some gold-digging bimbo and stashed my jeans and helmet into a locker. My low cut t-shirt was pulled as far down as it would go, with a push-up bra trying its best to give me some sort of cleavage. The clingy short skirt chafed my butt cheeks and my long, lean legs flowed elegantly beneath me on high heels. Oh alright, not elegantly, I’m awkward in heels, but you get the idea.

I tottered around aimlessly, making out I didn’t know where to go, whilst discretely taking in everything, looking for the most promising cash game.

I dismissed several tables with players who clearly knew what they were doing, especially the ones where the obvious pros were already seated, taking money from tourists and college kids that had blagged in on their false IDs. I guessed this time of year the casino management got sloppy, just like the bars did. All those young things eager to lose their cash would be hard to turn away.

That left two other tables and I settled on one with some British tourists. I pretended to be on ‘holiday’ like them and we bonded over talk of British cities and weather. I gave them the hustle routine, explaining how I didn’t know what I was doing and that they better go easy on me. Piece of piss. So easy to take their money.

I kept up the stream of nervous giggles, asking them “Was that hand good or bad?… What on earth is the flop?… It sounds funny!… Should I have folded then? Oooops, Silly me!”

I would accidentally win a few hands here and there so that I didn’t lose too many chips, then gradually win a few more, putting it down to beginner’s luck.

I was mid flow in a story about how I lost all my chips the one time I’d played before when my ears started burning. Someone else was watching me.

Zac had taken a seat at a table nearby and was giving me the usual stink eye. I didn’t dare look away in case he had gone when I looked back. Instead I braved the angry expression, took it on the chin, and used the opportunity to fully admire every inch of his face — the rich hazel eyes with a kind of darkness around them, like he wasn’t getting enough sleep. He didn’t seem tired or haggard, though.

Quite the opposite, his eyes were more alive than anything I could describe. Like an animal. His luscious, full lips pressed together, with 5 o’clock shadow covering a strong jaw. How I longed to feel that stubble on the inside of my thighs. If only he wasn’t a psycho.

His lips twitched ever so slightly, almost a smile. The guy sitting next to me gave me a nudge.

“Uh, sorry, I get so easily distracted, what was I saying?” I glanced down at my hand, a pair of tens. Placing the minimum bet, I hoped someone might try to bluff me with a raise. It wasn’t an exceptionally strong hand, but it might be enough if they tried to take advantage with a mediocre hand themselves.

Zac watched with quiet amusement on his face. At least some of the animosity had faded, but having him watching made me nervous. I would die of embarrassment if I stuffed this up.

Three guys folded except one called Max. He raised the pot considerably. Bingo. I hadn’t seen him raise with a decent hand all night, he preferred to slow play them. He’d been raising all night with nothing though, and this time I was ready to catch him out.

That left one other, Mr. Cowboy Hat, who called the bet. He’d been throwing chips away carelessly, I didn’t have much faith in him knowing what the hell he was doing, so that was good, unless the fish got lucky.

I paused with feigned distress, agreeing “what the hell” and throwing my chips in. Another ten came down with the flop and I knew this was the one. I would cash the hell out on this and get over to Zac.

Max was oblivious to his tell, reaching instinctively for his drink, but I noticed it. Cowboy Hat was staring at the Ace on the table. He’d probably hit one, too. Great! If the fourth one in the deck came out, they’d each think they had the nuts, when actually it would seal my victory.

The rest of the cards came down in my favour and I made myself look weak with unsure calling and bets, until the final action when I threw everything I had into the middle. Max was excited, thinking he’d won. Cowboy Hat was confused.

“Really?” Max groaned too melodramatically, “I ought to fold this, I bet you’ve got me beat.” He sighed, but placed the chips in the middle. Idiot, I can act better than you.

He victoriously revealed his trip Aces and reached out to take the chips.

“Wow,” I beamed. “That’s a good hand, Max, but I think that my hand is better?”

I laid the cards down on the table and enjoyed their shocked expressions as they registered my full house. His face went from happiness, to confusion, to pain in an instant.

“Well, gentleman, it’s been a real pleasure doing business with you. Particularly you,” I blew a kiss at Max. “Some advice though, you really want to watch that tell of yours, it’s a dead giveaway. And you two—” I nodded to the young guys. “You need to do some reading up and start playing the odds better, stop chasing. And you Cowboy Hat, well, you just need to stop playing, there’s no hope.”

Their jaws dropped around the table as I finished grabbing the chips and hurried off to the cash-in counter before they could recover and say another word. Behind me I could hear Zac laughing, loud and free. Possibly the best noise my ears had ever been blessed with.

* * *

The second I had the money in my hands I marched straight over to Zac, ignoring the jeers from poor Max and his crew. He gazed up at me quizzically, a hint of a smirk remaining on those delectable lips. He’d already attracted a group of eager women. They bunched around the table, watching, waiting, hoping they’d get lucky with this inhumanly gorgeous man and his buckets of money. His stack was practically piled up to the roof.

“So it’s settled then. You’re the one stalking me,” I said, with more confidence than I felt.

“Do you want me to be stalking you?” He sucked on something that smelled like a mint and toyed lazily with chips in one hand. The tricks were good, flipping them effortlessly around his fingers without even seeming to be concentrating on it.

“As if! Why would I want some creepy guy who keeps giving me psycho glares to be following me? Maybe those guys at the beach weren’t the ones to be afraid of?” I spat, my voice a little harsher than intended.

Gut wrenching silence. Oh, way to go. What kind of dickhead would bring that up like this? Burning heat filled my cheeks.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said simply.

Of course I was right. This was the habit of my lifetime, wasn’t it? I couldn’t hide from that string of dodgy men in my past, culminating in The Cage Fighter. He’d been in prison for assault and I’d followed him down some dark paths. It was a slippery slope and somewhat of a miracle that I’d managed to step off it. I really needed to stop chasing down these storms.

“However,” he continued. “You didn’t accidentally attract Mullet-douche, you sought out his attention with your games.” He glanced at his cards and absently threw a stack of chips into the middle as the game continued around him.

“MY games?!”

He stared at me flatly for a moment, before turning back to his cards.

“Anyway, I could have handled it myself,” I scoffed indignantly.

“You’re welcome.” He shot me a fierce look this time, the disapproval on his face quickly turning into full blown reprehension. He could go from nice and smiley to weird and serious in a heartbeat. A familiar buzzing started up in my ears; faint, but growing.

No. No. Not here. The adrenalin bolted around my body. I could feel myself reaching the peak, I was going to do something stupid and then crash. I shouldn’t be here.

Zac cocked his head at me. “You should do what you can to avoid attracting unwanted attention round here, not go seeking it out.”

I stared back at the curious faces around the table, everyone listening to us, the hoard of women eyeing me with disgust.

“Well, I can see you’re still angry about it.” I suddenly felt like a silly little girl. Having a whole table of people watching my telling-off didn’t help. “Thank you, but next time, don’t bother coming to my rescue. I don’t need your help or your fucking cat and mouse stalking. Your games aren’t much fun any longer.”

* * *

Outside, I gulped down some air and tried to steady my shaking hands. Tears welled up, which I hastily wiped away.

Well, that was bullshit, Jess. Way to go. If you don’t want or need him in your life, then why are you such an emotional wreck?

It was absurd to be crying. I knew that. But I also knew this was just a dip, a comedown. I’ve ridden out enough lows to recognise them for what they are. My life is a series of peaks and troughs. I surf the highs, buzzing my tits off and searching for the next rush, and when I fail to grab it I crash to the ground in a pathetic heap.

I stuck the key in Loki’s ignition. Fuck it, my clothes and helmet were still stashed in the lockers. I went to open the casino door but changed my mind and sank to the ground. With my back pressed against the wall, I buried my face hard into my knees in a futile attempt to quell the tears.

I always ended up here. Breaking this cycle was going to be harder than I anticipated. Had I really thought that I could come to a hedonistic island and actually sort myself out?!

An arm slid around my shoulder. He pressed his nose into my hair and sighed deeply.

“I’m sorry. No games. No more following from a distance. I want to be with you,” he said, that deep voice making my brain feel like mush.

“So what’s stopping you?” I didn’t dare lift my face, to have him see my red swollen eyes. Or was it that I just couldn’t bare the heartache of seeing his beautiful face right then? Knowing that I needed to stay away from him. Knowing that no matter how much I craved his attention, I had to walk away. He was dangerous.

“It’s complicated.” His words came out in a low hiss and he shifted sideways, increasing the gap between us. This time, I had to look. Had to check if the man who sent me wild with unsolicited desire had really uttered that cliché line.

He was staring straight ahead, eyes hooded with an unknown burden. Popping another mint into his mouth he shook his head slowly. “I’m trying, I really am. I’ll make it work if you give me time.”

“That sounds like one of your parting lines. You going to vanish on me in a puff of freaking smoke again?” Those damn brooding eyes made me want him so much that my chest constricted with the need to reach out and grab him, kiss him, fuck him. He frowned and pressed a fist into his forehead.

“You can’t resist playing with fire can you? Guys don’t like to be hustled by a girl much more than they like to be led on by one. It belittles them, damages their ego,” he said.

“That was their tough shit for not knowing how to play poker. I didn’t force them to hand me their chips.”

His lazy smile made a brief return and my heart fluttered. He had the power to scare me to death in one instant and fill me with wonder the next.

“That guy’s face at the end was priceless. Only played once before, huh?” he rolled his eyes. “Men are so easily and willingly fooled by you.”

“Not you. You’re different.”

He pressed his lips together and looked at his hands, mirroring me by toying with his motorbike key. He flicked it round and round, like he’d done with the poker chips.

“You could tell I was hustling as soon as you walked in, right?” I asked.

“Of course. You’re good, but not that good.”

“One of the guys on my table spotted you and started spouting off. I hear you’re a pretty spectacular player? I could try out my beginner’s luck on you sometime?” I edged back closer to him.

He chuckled, “Even a pro hustler like you can’t beat me. I don’t want your money. Save it.”

“Oh.” I wanted to come back with a remark about how cocky his confidence was, or that we could play for fun, not money — perhaps strip poker — but rejection pain pricked behind my eyes at the declined offer. I never said it had to be money, it was just a sociable suggestion.

“Maybe a little friendly competition elsewhere then, away from the poker tables?” Turned out his rejection just made me more determined. I was talking reflexively, before I’d even thought about it. I hated it when that happened. Typical Aries impulsiveness.

“I’m not racing your motorcycle,” he folded his arms across his chest and gave me a stern look. He needed to loosen up. For such a wild party guy he was awfully well behaved around me. Whatever his brother was up to with missing girls, I found it impossible to believe he was the same. Yes, he was weird, but in a different way.

“That’s not what I was going to ask… I…. I don’t….” Wait a minute, was I about to say that? It occurred to me that I probably was. “Why not, are you chicken?”

“Yes, I am,” he deadpanned. “I’m not racing you. I’m not racing a—”

“What?” I snapped. “A girl? You won’t race a girl?”

“Something like that,” he smiled grimly.

“You know, I had you down as being a little more exciting. So what then, dinner? That can’t be too scary for you?”

“Dinner,” he stated, giving a non-committal grunt and shifting up onto his feet.

“Jesus, Zac! You watch me all the time, you seem interested in me, but you constantly dodge all my moves towards you. I just don’t get you at all. What are you doing?”

“I want to do the right thing,” he sighed, returning his attention to me, eyes catching on my bruised wrist.

“I’m only trying to ask you out, this shouldn’t require that much thought,” I threw my head back in despair and ran a hand up and down my neck. When I looked back down he was staring at me all intently, tense again. As usual he recomposed himself so fast that I couldn’t work out what the expression had been on his face.

“How about a walk along the beach,” he suggested.

“The beach? How very tame. And not at all uncomfortable after our last meeting there,” I pouted, but then I had an idea. “I know the perfect place right up at the far North end, it’s deserted this time of night. Anna showed it to me when I first got here. We’d have it to ourselves.”

“What’s wrong with the main beach?”

“Well, memories, like I said, and it’s too crowded.”

Why didn’t he want to be alone with me? That had to be a good sign, right? At least, on the psycho front. If he wanted to kidnap me then he’d surely leap at the chance for isolation.

I was sick of the games. It was time to spice things up whether he liked it or not. Before I even finished thinking about it I snatched the key out of his hand and found myself astride his bike, fumbling with the ignition.

“Whoa, what are you doing?” He appeared unsure whether he should grab hold of me or if I was joking. I didn’t even know what I was doing myself, but I threw Loki’s key at him and the next thing his Harley roared to life and I was off, front wheel leaving the ground as I sped away.

I shouted back something embarrassingly childish like “Wooo hoooooooo. You’re gonna have to race me now, Mommy’s boy, I got your chopper! Want it back? Come and get it! Wooooo ha ha ha ha ha.”

I had a vague notion of people shouting at me and staring, pointing at the crazy girl tearing up the road in a mini skirt, high heels and not even a helmet.

Yes, that was me, because I’m clearly a complete shitwit.