Chapter 19

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1:35 PM SATURDAY

I never thought I would end up back here again. And after the events of last night, I really don’t want to be back here again.

But I have no choice.

I have to save Sammi from some very pissed off gangsters.

Now granted, I did kind of put her into this situation to begin with. I can own up to that. I’m nothing if not honest about owning up to when I fuck up.

But—in my defense—who the fuck goes back to a seedy, underground gambling den run by the Thai mafia?

I give my tuk-tuk driver the money for the ride, and he takes off like a bat out of hell.

Can’t blame him, really. This area of Bangkok isn’t the most savory. Hell, it’s downright dangerous.

But that’s what makes it fun.

I’m the bad boy of marine biology. Danger and fun go hand-in-hand for me.

Free diving with great white sharks? Fuck yes!

Go wading through the waters of the Congo and see if I can feed a goliath tigerfish by hand? Sign me the fuck up.

But to risk Sammi’s life—and those of her friends’—is something I won’t do.

The woman is my wife, after all.

I stroll up to the counter, and I’m greeted by the Thai love child of Gucci Mane and Justin Bieber.

The guy’s skinny jeans are so tight that I can tell his little cocktail sausage of a dick is being crushed by the peanuts he calls balls.

“Yo, man, what can I do for you?”

The way he enunciates his words has me thinking he’s watched way too many Tyrese movies.

“Hey, mate. I need in downstairs. There are some people here I need to see.”

“Sorry, man. We only have food. No downstairs here.”

I get it. This place is meant to be some big secret. It’s an illegal, underground gambling den run by the fucking mob. Of course it’s supposed to be some big secret.

And I know that in order for me to get in, I’m supposed to give this guy some cryptic phrase or make some special order from the menu. But there’s a problem with that.

I don’t fucking remember what it is.

When we showed up last night, it was Becky’s man, Liam, who had done all the talking. The bloke knew just what to say to get us down there.

I was impressed by his knowledge of the Bangkok underground gambling scene. And mate has one hell of a talent for gambling. Like, Stephen Hawking kind of gifted.

And if I had been paying any amount of attention last night, I’d likely remember what it was that he said or did to get us inside.

But hindsight is 20/20 right?

And I don’t have Liam here to get me in.

Or do I?

“Hold on a moment, mate. I’ll be right with you.”

Gucci Bieber gives me the stink eye, I think. It could just be his normal facial expression. It’s hard to tell.

I pull my phone from my pocket and give Sammi a ring right away. If she’s here, then she can just come up, and we can leave. If she hasn’t arrived yet, then I can just meet them outside and stop her from coming in.

Solid options, right?

Just one problem with that.

Sammi’s phone keeps going to voicemail.

And now I’m one part worried and one part angry.

“Hey, mate. Did a woman with long dark hair, green eyes, and amazing tits come through here with a group of people? One of them had pink hair? Another was a blonde. There would have been a married couple with them. English bloke and a cute redhead.”

Lil Thai Thug gives me a look that tells me that he knows exactly who I’m talking about. And the look on his face is one I’ve seen on my own when I think about Sammi’s tits.

This is great news, right? Means that they were—or are—here. It’s perfect.

Wrong!

“Sorry, homie. Can’t help you.”

Now, my blood is boiling.

I’m properly pissed off. And mate, let me tell you, being the subject of my anger is not a good place to be.

“Look, homie, I know that you’ve seen them. So just tell me where they are, or I’m going to smash your face open. You feel me?”

I get it. I don’t look intimidating in the slightest right now. Sure, I’m an imposing man. I’m 1.9 meter tall—that’s 6’3 for you Yanks—and weigh 100 kg—which is 220 pounds, in case you’re wondering. I’m built like a fucking Greek god of old. I know this.

But I’m also dressed in these weird, baggy MC Hammer parachute harem pants and a shirt so gaudy that it looks like something Michael Jackson wore on tour back in the 80’s.

I get it. I’m not the picture of someone you should take seriously right now.

So the fact that the guy behind the counter is laughing at me and doesn’t at all look intimidated is understandable.

But now, that means I’m really going to have to kick his ass. Which—if I’m being totally honest here, mate—I’m actually looking forward to.

“Go eat a bag of dicks, whitey.”

He’s starting to laugh again when I reach across the counter and grab him by the collar of his shirt. His eyes go wide in surprise. The little fucker wasn’t expecting me to grab him.

I pull him over the counter with one hand, which is pretty easy to do since he only weighs about the same as fucking toddler. I grab him by the throat and slam him against the counter.

“You had better fucking tell me where my wife is, mate. Or this gets very messy, very fast.”

The tough guy isn’t so tough anymore, and I hear the sound of his urine hitting the tile floor.

“Downstairs. I show you.”

“Thanks, mate.”

I let him go and he begins leading me toward the back of the joint.

He opens up the walk-in freezer door that leads down to the den below. I give him a small pat on the back.

“Good job, mate. You can go now.”

I hope that when I reach the bottom, I’m going to see Sammi and her people gambling away and enjoying themselves. I hope that she tells me she ignored my calls as payback.

Only I don’t see Sammi or the others.

Bloody fucking hell.

I go room to room in the hopes of catching them in the middle of some high stakes game.

They’re nowhere to be seen.

But I know they’re here. Or were.

I walk up to the bar and wave over the cute bartender behind it. Judging from the look on her face, I could probably ask her to fuck on this bar, and she’d be down for it.

Hell, if I wasn’t a married man, I’d probably see if she was up for it.

“Hey, love. I’m looking for some friends of mine. Bigger girl with pink hair. An English bloke and his wife. There’s a blonde. And a girl with long, dark hair.”

There’s a look of disappointment in her eyes—likely because I’m not hitting on her—but instead of answering me, she just points to some guy on the other side of the den.

The guy looks to be some kind of security.

I slip the woman a twenty for the tip.

The security guy looks me up and down.

He’s probably thinking I’m some Bangkok pimp. God knows I look like one.

“Hey, mate. I’m looking—”

“Fuck off.”

Well, that was fucking rude of him.

“Look, I’d rather not have to do this the hard way.”

“Fuck. Off.”

Okay, hard way it is.

I grab the guy by the collar of his suit jacket and slam him against the wall.

He’s yelling for help.

It’s time for a brawl now.

I drive my elbow into the face of the guy in front of me. He slumps down against the wall, knocked out cold.

His buddies are yelling threats at me in Thai.

I toss the first one I can grab aside into a slot machine.

I punch the second one in the face. He screams and holds his nose.

It’s broken.

I grab him by the throat and use my best superhero voice. “Where are my friends?”

“Boss took them.”

“When?”

“Only about five minutes ago.”

Are you fucking serious!? I missed them by five fucking minutes!

“Where did he take them?” I don’t have to, but I squeeze his throat for some good measure.

“Outside the city. Some waterfall.”

Waterfall outside the city?

I let go of the guy, and he runs away.

I’m smiling. It’s a smile big enough to make one think I’ve just won the lotto. Or close enough, in this case.

I know exactly where they are.

I actually have some exceptionally fond memories of that waterfall.

So fond that I can feel a twitch in my cock.

Not now, mate. Later. Save the girl first.

Then get laid.