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Consequence, the conclusion to Sayer and Caroline\u2019s epic love story…<\/strong><\/p>\n Five years ago, I escaped a dangerous life I had always wanted to leave. I got away. I found freedom. But it cost me the love of my life.<\/p>\n For five years I lived in hiding, protecting my most valuable secret while Sayer Wesley sat in prison paying for both our sins. I promised to love him forever. I promised to never leave him.<\/p>\n I broke my promises.<\/p>\n Five months ago Sayer found me.<\/p>\n Five weeks ago, I was forced to face my past.<\/p>\n Five days ago, someone took my daughter. They kidnapped her in order to make Sayer and me suffer. I will do anything to get her back. Even if that means coming clean to Sayer, letting him into my life and introducing him to our daughter.<\/p>\n All I wanted was to protect her from this life and now she\u2019s right in the middle of the chaos. Sayer is the only one that can help me. He\u2019s the only one that can get her back.<\/p>\n But it might mean losing him again.<\/p>\n Fifteen years ago, I fell in love with Sayer Wesley. Now I must pay the consequences for falling in love with a con man.<\/p>\n Find\u00a0Consequence\u00a0<\/em>on GOODREADS<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Sayer<\/strong><\/p>\n Fifteen Years Ago<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n Doubt niggled in my gut, forcing me to question my choices. I hated it. I hated the greasy feeling sloshing around in the pit of my stomach. Halting hesitation stilted my limbs and slowed my footsteps.<\/p>\n The door in front of me seemed to stretch to the dark sky overhead. The damp, ivy covered walls seemed to close in on me, trapping me in a prison I wasn\u2019t ready to face yet.<\/p>\n Letting out a slow, measured breath I balled my hands into fists and reminded myself that this was my only option for survival. I\u2019d made my bed and now I had to live in it.<\/p>\n For however long my life lasted.<\/p>\n Wrapping my knuckles against the back entrance to a Russian-run bar in the middle of downtown DC, I swallowed the lump of fear and my uncertainty. The gritty taste in my mouth remained.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d a gigantic tank of a man asked when the metal door creaked open.<\/p>\n The opened door let out a gust of warm air that smelled like booze and sweat. It reminded me of my old man and I had to plant my feet to restrain myself from involuntarily bolting.<\/p>\n \u201cI want to see the bosses,\u201d I declared boldly.<\/p>\n The ogre\u2019s mouth split into a scary smile, revealing rows of gold teeth and a fat, gray tongue. My request was amusing enough that he didn\u2019t bother playing games with me. I obviously wasn\u2019t an FBI informant or slimy CI. I wasn\u2019t wearing a wire. He knew exactly where I came from\u2014the gutter.<\/p>\n He clicked his tongue between his teeth and lips. \u201cAnd what does a street rat like you want with the pakhan<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\n His thick accent made it hard for me to understand him, but I got the gist of what he asked. \u201cI have information,\u201d I told him and then quickly added. \u201cImportant information.\u201d<\/p>\n His smile disappeared. \u201cYeah? How about you tell it to me and I\u2019ll relay the message.\u201d<\/p>\n I shook my head. No fucking way. I give this guy the goods, I\u2019ll never get another chance to get inside. This had to come from me. And it had to go straight to the top. \u201cI tell the bosses. Nobody else.\u201d<\/p>\n He spat a string of curses in a foreign language I assumed was Russian. \u201cI\u2019m not playing games, shithead. And you\u2019re not getting inside. Give me the fucking information or get lost.\u201d When I hesitated, he added, \u201cYou have three seconds.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s about the Irish,\u201d I blurted, desperate to have him hear me out. \u201cAnd a huge fucking shipment of guns.\u201d I rubbed my tongue on the roof of the mouth. The curse word felt funny on my tongue. Up until six months ago, I wouldn\u2019t have used it out of respect for my mom. But since I\u2019d been living on the streets, I\u2019d learned there were certain kinds of people in the world who only responded to a specific way of talking. If I wanted to be taken seriously I needed to get comfortable with their language.<\/p>\n Besides it wasn\u2019t like I was sheltered or some shit. Thirteen years of living with my dad had taught me how to survive on the streets\u2014I could survive the Russian mob or the fucking epicenter of hell.<\/p>\n The meathead\u2019s curiosity had been piqued. \u201cAnd what does a piece of scum like you know about the fucking Irish?\u201d<\/p>\n I craned my neck to rub my cheek against my bony shoulder. \u201cI know that I\u2019ve been working with them for two months. I know that they\u2019re expecting a container next month. I know that the guns that were supposed to be on it were delayed because their customs officer was arrested and so they were put on a separate, smaller ship, making them arrive two weeks ahead of time. I know that if you know the right place they\u2019re coming in at you could beat the Irish and grab them for yourselves.\u201d<\/p>\n His jaw ticked, revealing confusion and anger. \u201cAnd how the fuck do you know that?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause I know it. Now are you going to let me in to talk to the bosses? Or am I going to have to take this information to the Italians?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFucking Italians.\u201d He pursed his lips and spit. I flexed my entire body and held perfectly still. I couldn\u2019t let this guy see me flinch. He was just the gatekeeper, but if I cringed in front of him he wouldn\u2019t take me seriously and I\u2019d lose my one shot at getting inside.<\/p>\n I was tough and I\u2019d prove it here and now.<\/p>\n Caroline\u2019s voice drifted through my head, bolstering my courage, boosting my adrenaline. \u201cMake them realize you\u2019re valuable.\u201d<\/em> She\u2019d offered the advice like a last-minute question. She\u2019d wanted to save me from the streets. She\u2019d wanted to rescue me from the assholes that had hired me. But she\u2019d done something better instead.<\/p>\n She\u2019d given me something to live for\u2014seeing her again.<\/p>\n \u201cHow do you know any of that?\u201d the bouncer demanded. \u201cHow do I know you\u2019re not a little spy sent by someone else? The Irish could have sent you. The Italians could have sent you. The goddamn cops could be messing with us.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow about you let the bosses decide that? Pretty sure those questions are above your pay grade.\u201d<\/p>\n I expected him to punch me in the face, but he threw his head back and laughed instead. \u201cHow old are you, kid?\u201d<\/p>\n I had no reason to lie. Although I probably should have anyway. \u201cThirteen.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFucking balls for a kid of thirteen.\u201d<\/p>\n I shrugged. \u201cAre you going to let me in or what?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFuck it,\u201d he grumbled, but pushed the door open so I could walk inside.<\/p>\n Repressing the relieved smile playing at the corners of my mouth, I inhaled the sticky sweet stench of the bar and tried not to gag. God, I had hated places like this. I hated the loud mouth men yelling at each other from across the room. I hated the pounding music that never ended. I hated the women that worked here, that dressed in as little as possible and let the drunk ass men put their hands all over them.<\/p>\n This bar was too close to home. And it took everything in me not to bolt. I wanted to run away from this place like I wanted to run from my past. I wanted to head back to the mission house that had given me a hot chocolate and offered a warm bed to sleep in.<\/p>\n Bile rose up in my throat and I banished the manipulative thoughts before they could take root. That idyllic dream would lead one place\u2014to child services. And they would just send me back to foster care.<\/p>\n There was only one thing on this godforsaken planet worse than my old man and that was foster care.<\/p>\n Fuck that.<\/p>\n I\u2019d take the Russians before I\u2019d ever let them send me back.<\/p>\n Hell, I\u2019d even stay with the Irish before I let that happen.<\/p>\n I followed the goon through the bar and toward a darkened staircase. Everyone we passed sent curious looks my way, but my new friend didn\u2019t offer any explanations. I appreciated his discretion, even if he was trying to keep the number of witnesses to a minimum.<\/p>\n At the top of the stairs, we took the single hallway to the farthest closed door. I ignored the sounds coming from the other rooms as we walked by and the occasional screams of both pleasure and pain.<\/p>\n Eyes wide open<\/em>, I reminded myself. I was stepping into this world fully aware of what I was getting into. I was choosing a life of crime, of immorality\u2026 of sin. This was my life, and for the first time ever, I was deciding how I wanted to live it.<\/p>\n My guide pounded his meaty fist against the door until someone on the other side called out a terse, \u201cCome in.\u201d<\/p>\n The door opened and the goon shoved me through it. \u201cThis kid says he can get us the next shipment of Irish guns. Says he wants to trade something for it.\u201d<\/p>\n I hadn\u2019t said that. A wave of gratitude washed through me for this nameless stranger. I knew enough about the world that I could recognize this for what it was\u2014a future favor I would be expected to make right. I was grateful enough to be okay with owing this guy one.<\/p>\n The cool, calculated gazes of three well-dressed men turned to me. The bosses. I had never seen them in person before, but it was obvious who they were. The entire room was practically bowed in their presence.<\/p>\n I\u2019d overheard the Irish talk about them enough to know there were three of them and they were brothers. Dymetrus was the muscle in the family. He controlled the enforcers and handled the punishments. Aleksander\u2014the brains. He made the money decisions and ran the businesses. And Roman\u2014the boss of bosses. He was the face of the family, the oldest brother and the end all be all of the Russian mafia in this city.<\/p>\n It was Roman I would have to convince.<\/p>\n It was Roman I would have to survive.<\/p>\n And there he sat, directly across the room from me, at the head of the table, his brothers to both sides of him, his closest men in chairs bordering the large room. He was dark-haired and slick-looking, like oil personified. He was groomed to perfection and his tailored suit was worth more than my life.<\/p>\n I hated him immediately.<\/p>\n He had everything I wanted and didn\u2019t have. Money, power, security, a place to sleep. Something settled inside me, dropping to my gut like the first stone of a new building, the one the rest of the foundation would be built on. Or the seed of a mighty oak that took root and began the arduous task of growing, developing, of becoming something bigger, better and more permanent than what it was.<\/p>\n I decided right then and there that I wanted everything Roman had. Not just the money and the clothes and the material possessions\u2014I wanted the job too. I wanted the power. I wanted his empire.<\/p>\n And today was the first step to getting it.<\/p>\n \u201cSpeak, child,\u201d he ordered, his voice heavy with Russian influence. \u201cTell us your tale.\u201d<\/p>\n His black eyes glinted in the low light, sparking with curiosity and mystery. I held his gaze and ignored the buzzing of nerves threatening to make me puke. \u201cI did a job for you two months ago. It was an electronics store. I climbed up a wall and turned off security cameras, then hid in a space between two walls and jumped the driver of a delivery truck when he stepped out of the cab.\u201d<\/p>\n Roman\u2019s head tilted to the side. \u201cI thought you were going to tell me about where I can find Irish guns.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI want a job,\u201d I told him evenly. \u201cIf I tell you about the guns, I want to work for you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt sounds as though you\u2019re already working for me,\u201d Roman countered. \u201cAnd the Irish. And who knows who else.\u201d<\/p>\n I shook my head, realizing I needed to slow down. \u201cI don\u2019t want to be a six. I want to be one of you.\u201d I jerked my chin toward the bouncer. \u201cI want to be bratva<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n Roman\u2019s eyes narrowed. \u201cYou\u2019re a child.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m about to help you take out the Irish,\u201d I reminded him.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat did the Irish do to make you hate them so much?\u201d his brother asked. By his trimmed beard and glasses, I pegged him as Aleksander, but I couldn\u2019t be sure. \u201cWhy are you here tattling on them as though we are your mother and they have picked on you at school?\u201d<\/p>\n I shook my head again. They weren\u2019t getting it. \u201cI never wanted to be Irish,\u201d I explained. \u201cSince the job two months ago, I\u2019ve only wanted to be Russian.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen you should have stayed working for us,\u201d Roman sighed. \u201cNow we can\u2019t trust you. Now we assume you are an Irish spy and we should send you back to them with your tail between your legs.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOr in a body bag,\u201d Dymetrus murmured.<\/p>\n Heat rushed to my brain and I felt my face turn red. \u201cI\u2019m not a spy. I went to the Irish in order to find you something to take them out. That\u2019s all. I never wanted to work for them.\u201d<\/p>\n The three brothers stared at me. \u201cDid someone tell you to do that?\u201d Roman asked. He turned to his other brother. \u201cWho was in charge of that job? Who would give advice of that nature to this\u2026 child?\u201d<\/p>\n Dymetrus snorted. \u201cLeon Valero ran point as I remember. We needed his daughter on the inside. He didn\u2019t do a half bad job of it, but Leon\u2019s not kind enough to recruit a kid.\u201d<\/p>\n Daughter. I wondered if they meant Caroline. I filed that information away. \u201cIt wasn\u2019t Leon,\u201d I interrupted and tensed for their response. \u201cIt\u2019s not important who told me what to do. Besides they didn\u2019t say specifically to get work from the Irish, just that I needed to do something to prove my worth in order to stay. I want to stay, so I did something to prove my worth. That\u2019s all. I\u2019m not<\/em> an Irish spy. They probably won\u2019t even notice I\u2019m gone. I was just a six for them. A six that happened to be in the right place at the right time.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is your name?\u201d Roman asked when I expected him to demand more information.<\/p>\n Nerves pinged through me again, my stomach tightening into a twisted ball. \u201cSayer.\u201d I cleared my throat. \u201cSayer Wesley.\u201d<\/p>\n Roman sat back in his chair. \u201cHow do I know that name?\u201d He turned to his brother again. \u201cWhy is that name familiar.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHis father was a cop,\u201d Aleksander offered. \u201cHe\u2019s dead now.\u201d<\/p>\n Recognition flashed in Roman\u2019s eyes. \u201cSuicide.\u201d<\/p>\n I scanned the room for the closest trash can, convinced I was going to puke. Thankfully, I hadn\u2019t eaten anything today so there was nothing in my stomach. I managed to nod.<\/p>\n Roman shared a look with his brothers before turning his black eyes back to me. \u201cIt\u2019s time you told us everything, Sayer Wesley. Starting with how a dead cop\u2019s kid ends up trying to defect from the family his own dear dad used to work for.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy dad might\u2019ve been Irish, but I hated him. I want nothing to do with his family. I want nothing to do with the Irish.\u201d I spit the words out as promises. Anger bubbled beneath my skin, fury ready to be unleashed in my fisted hands.<\/p>\n \u201cYou say that here,\u201d Roman countered calmly. \u201cBut what about to them? Maybe you say the same things about the Russians to them. Surely they expect you to carry on his legacy. Surely they expect another dirty cop? Or at the very least a loyal soldier.\u201d<\/p>\n I ground my teeth together. \u201cThen this will set them right.\u201d<\/p>\n Something in my tone or in my eyes must have finally convinced them I was telling the truth. Roman sat back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. \u201cAnd how can we trust someone one that hates his father so much? Family means something to us.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFamily means something to me too. I just want to be able to choose who my family is. I want to decide who I call brother and who I swear my life to. The Irish don\u2019t get that honor. My fucking dad didn\u2019t get that honor.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd you think the guns are enough?\u201d Roman asked still calm and unruffled. \u201cYou think one ship full of guns is enough to turn your Irish blood Russian?\u201d<\/p>\n I struggled to swallow past the baseball-sized lump in my throat. \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re wrong,\u201d Roman said with a small, amused smile. \u201cBut it\u2019s a start.\u201d<\/p>\n His words were a fatal blow, a crushing disappointment that felt like total destruction. I hadn\u2019t realized how much I had hoped that this would be easy or how desperately I needed them to give me what I wanted. I had nowhere else to go. I had no backup plan. I had no other options. \u201cA-a start?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWho told you that you needed to prove yourself to become bratva<\/em>?\u201d Roman demanded in a tone I knew better than to argue with.<\/p>\n \u201cA girl,\u201d I confessed quickly.<\/p>\n The brothers shared another look. \u201cDid this girl have a name?\u201d Aleksander asked.<\/p>\n I licked dry lips and contemplated how to answer. \u201cThere were two girls there. It was the one with short hair.\u201d I felt proud of myself for not giving away her name. If the Russians were like the Irish, they had a dozen or so nameless street kids working for them. The bosses wouldn\u2019t know who they were. And I wouldn\u2019t be expected to remember one of them after meeting them only once.<\/p>\n Only I did remember her. I remembered everything about her.<\/p>\n The brothers lapsed into Russian, their expressions growing stern and serious. They seemed to be arguing about something, gesturing toward me and the window behind them. And then they said her name. Caroline Valero. And I knew I\u2019d turned her in.<\/p>\n Shit. <\/em><\/p>\n I swallowed and tried to pick up the repeated phrases or words so I could go to the library tomorrow and look them up, but it was impossible to understand them. I didn\u2019t know any Russian and they were speaking way too fast for me to memorize anything substantial.<\/p>\n Roman had the last say and the other brothers closed their mouths, even though they didn\u2019t look happy about it. He turned his gaze back to me once more and looked more sinister than ever. I couldn\u2019t pinpoint it for a second, but I realized he reminded me of a cartoon cat with a mouse dangling from his fingertips. He had something he wanted.<\/p>\n And I was just now realizing that something was me.<\/p>\n \u201cI want you to tell me about the guns, Sayer Wesley. If your information proves to be accurate and if my men are able to procure the weapons, I will in fact allow you to become bratva<\/em>. Not a six, like you\u2019ve suggested, but a brother. We will blood you so that you will no longer be Irish, but Russian. We will tattoo you so that everyone in this city knows who you belong to, so your ties with the Irish mob will forever be severed. And we will treat you as one of us. We will give you a place to live and you will work for us for the rest of your life. Is that what you want?\u201d<\/p>\n The promise was too much to resist. My voice shook with dangerous hope as I answered, \u201cThat is what I want.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen there will be one more task for you to complete. If you can give us the Irish and we make you bratva<\/em>, then you must do one more thing.\u201d<\/p>\n Reality sliced through me and I realized I had walked into the spider\u2019s web. Willingly. It was one thing to become Russian. It was another thing entirely to owe them a favor.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat thing?\u201d<\/p>\n Roman hesitated long enough that I thought he might not tell me, that he might make me wait until after I was bratva<\/em> to demand his pound of flesh. At last he said, \u201cYou must give us Caroline Valero.\u201d<\/p>\n My heart kicked at my chest and I pushed up onto the balls of my feet, readying to run. \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI want her,\u201d Roman explained. Before I could fly across the table and murder him, he added. \u201cIn the brotherhood. She has a\u2026 special set of skills I only see improving. I want to own her talent. I want her to be bratva<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe\u2019s already a six\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe works begrudgingly to help her father,\u201d Roman explained. \u201cShe has no intentions of getting marked. My niece tells me she has plans to go to college and leave the life completely.\u201d His nose wrinkled in distaste. \u201cNot only do I refuse to lose her talent, she has a certain influence over my niece that I will not abide. She must be bratva<\/em>. Do you understand?\u201d<\/p>\n From the second I saw Caroline, I knew she was different. This information didn\u2019t surprise me at all. She didn\u2019t look Russian. And she didn\u2019t look like she belonged in that back alley. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and if she hadn\u2019t talked to me, I wouldn\u2019t have believed she was real. Of course she wanted to go to college. She didn\u2019t belong with these lowlifes. She didn\u2019t belong to this world. \u201cYou want me to convince her to not go to college?\u201d<\/p>\n Roman stretched his neck impatiently. \u201cI want you to give her a reason to stay. A reason she cannot leave.\u201d<\/p>\n I shook my head. \u201cI don\u2019t follow.\u201d<\/p>\n Roman said what sounded like a curse word in Russian and leaned forward, stretching his folded hands in front of him on the sleek table. \u201cI want you to give me a reason to make her bratva<\/em>. I want you to prove you belong here by securing her future with me.\u201d<\/p>\n My heart pounded and adrenaline rushed through me as I realized what I was being asked. There were two ways to enter a life like this one. The first was to walk willingly into it. Like I was trying to do. The second was to do something that trapped you inside\u2014usually a sin of some kind, a bargain with the devil that could not be broken. They were asking me to give them an opportunity to trap Caroline in the bratva<\/em>.<\/p>\n \u201cHow much time do I have?\u201d I asked, my tongue heavy and stiff in my mouth.<\/p>\n \u201cYou have until she tries to leave,\u201d Roman answered, his lips twisting with a small smile. \u201cShe will work for us as long as she lives here and her father is working for our organization. I need her choice to be taken away from her. I need her loyalty. You have until she graduates high school. But sooner would be preferable.\u201d<\/p>\n The tumultuous feelings inside of me started to become clearer. I realized I wasn\u2019t afraid nor was I upset on her behalf. I was excited. Thrilled. Happy.<\/p>\n It turned out that Roman and I wanted the same thing\u2014Caroline Valero. His task was in complete alignment with what I had set out to do.<\/p>\n \u201cYour price is Caroline Valero?\u201d I asked when I started to doubt what I\u2019d heard. Could I want this so badly I had just imagined it?<\/p>\n \u201cMake her mine,\u201d Roman ordered. \u201cAnd you will always belong to this brotherhood.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOkay,\u201d I told him knowing that it was a lie. Knowing that Caroline would never be his. But I would do what he asked to make her mine. I would figure out how to make her bratva<\/em> not so she wouldn\u2019t leave the Russians, but so she wouldn\u2019t leave me.<\/p>\n I spent the rest of the night explaining the shipment of guns I knew was on the way. I gave all the details of how many men would be there to pick it up and exactly where the guns would go. I showed them the fax for the port details and what time they could expect the ship to dock. After they had everything they needed, they called the bookkeeper over and arranged a place for me to stay. And then sent me home with him.<\/p>\n He gave me a place to stay, a shower, a hot meal and a bed to sleep in. I fell asleep knowing my future was secure, knowing my place in the brotherhood was as good as finalized, knowing I would get Roman everything he asked, because it was everything I wanted.<\/p>\n I would do anything to make Caroline Valero mine. Even if that meant making her bratva<\/em> with me.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Constant (#1) Consequence (#2) <\/p>\n<\/div>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Consequence The Confidence Game Part Two by Rachel Higginson Releasing\u00a0February 27, 2018 Available Now! Kindle Ebook Blurb Consequence, the conclusion to Sayer and Caroline\u2019s epic love story… Five years ago, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":29079,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","yasr_overall_rating":0,"yasr_post_is_review":"","yasr_auto_insert_disabled":"","yasr_review_type":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[290],"tags":[300,196,782],"class_list":["post-29074","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-book-news","tag-cover-reveal","tag-rachel-higginson","tag-the-confidence-game"],"yasr_visitor_votes":{"stars_attributes":{"read_only":false,"span_bottom":false},"number_of_votes":0,"sum_votes":0},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/01\/Consequence-final-cover.jpg?fit=150%2C234&ssl=1","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p7gaNL-7yW","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29074","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=29074"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29074\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/29079"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=29074"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=29074"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=29074"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nChapter One<\/strong><\/h4>\n
\nThe Confidence Game<\/strong><\/h4>\n
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\u00a0 ![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/01\/Consequence-final-cover.jpg?resize=80%2C122&ssl=1\")
<\/p>\n
\n<\/strong>Review<\/a>
\nBuy:\u00a0Kindle Ebook<\/a>\u00a0| Paperback<\/a><\/p>\n
\n<\/strong>Review<\/a>
\n<\/strong>Buy: Kindle Ebook<\/a><\/p>\n<\/h4>\n