by Cindi Myers
As soon as Laura and her guard were out of the room, he made his move. He aimed a vicious kick at Yogi’s crotch. While the goon was bent double, David head-butted him so hard he saw stars for two seconds. The Glock clattered to the floor, and David kicked it under the sofa. Another kick to the side of the head put Yogi out cold. He raced for the door and managed to shove it open.
Soul Patch stood outside a door at the other end of the short hall, looking impatient. He knocked on the door. “Hurry up or I’ll come in and get you,” he said.
David ducked back into the room and stood to the side of the door. Laura came through first, no longer gagged, but her hands still bound in front of her. As soon as she was in the room, David launched himself at Soul Patch, knocking him off balance. David kicked out violently, landing a solid blow to the goon’s stomach. Laura bit back a scream, then snatched a bottle from the sideboard and cracked it over Soul Patch’s head. The man sank to his knees with a groan then fell over, out cold.
“What do we do now?” she asked, staring at the two unconscious guards. She couldn’t look at David—his battered face brought tears to her eyes, and the memory of how he’d fought to save them stirred up a crazy cocktail of awe, fear, and lust. She had to focus on something else—anything else—and pull herself together.
“We’ve got to find something to cut the bindings off our hands.”
She looked down at the broken bottle she still held and grinned at him. “This might work.”
He turned with his back to her. “Cut me loose, then I’ll do you. Try not to slash my wrists, though at this point, I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”
“Hush and hold still.”
In a surprisingly short time, she’d sawed the cord in half. He rubbed at his wrists, ignoring the pain shooting through them, then fumbled to untie her. As soon as she was free, he knelt beside the couch and fished out the Glock. “How many guards did you see on your way over here?” he asked.
“There’s a man by the elevator and one at the end of the hall.”
“We’ll take the stairs. Stay close to me, and when I tell you, run for your life. Go back to the hotel, call your sister, and lie low until your flight home tomorrow.”
“What about you?”
“I’ve got to go after Tommy.”
“David, no. It’s too risky.” She clutched at his arm, but he shook her off.
“I’m afraid his dad is getting suspicious of him, too. If Tommy’s in trouble, I have to help him—and finish the job I came here to do.”
“Zacolli saw the pictures of Cassandra’s cat on my camera. Your cover is finished.”
“All the more reason for you to stay away from me. Now come on. I’ll go with you as far as the ground floor.” He pulled her toward the door.
A check of the hallway showed it was empty. The elevators were set into an alcove, and he could just make out the guard’s feet where he sat in a chair facing the hallway. The door to the stairs was situated a few feet before the alcove on the same side of the hallway.
But before they could move into the hallway, they heard another door opening. David pulled her back inside then peered out again. He swore under his breath.
“What is it?” She tried to see around him, and he moved just enough for her to see the man tiptoeing toward the stairs, a suitcase in one hand, a gun in the other. “Is that Tommy?” she asked.
“Yes. Looks like he’s decided to book it. Once his dad went after you and me, he probably figured he was next in line.” And he was probably right. If only David could have gotten to him sooner.
“You should go after him,” she urged.
“No.” He stepped back into the room. “I can’t leave you.”
“If you let him go, you won’t be able to make your case. Everything you’ve worked for for months will be for nothing. Go.” She nudged his shoulder. “I can look after myself.”
He glanced toward the hallway again. She was right—the whole reason he was in Vegas was to secure Tommy’s testimony. But he couldn’t leave her here with Zacolli’s men so close. She wasn’t trained at evasion—she didn’t even have a gun. Without him to protect her, she’d be too vulnerable. He shook his head. “I won’t leave you until I know you’re safe.”
…
Laura couldn’t believe things could get worse, but they had. Everything David had worked for was walking away from him, and all because of her. She checked the hallway again. Tommy had reached the stairs and was slipping through the door. “Maybe if we hurry you can still catch up to him,” she said.
But at that moment, the guard stepped into the hallway. David pulled her back hard against him. The guard looked around then retreated into the alcove once more. David whispered in her ear. “Stay close to the wall. When you get to the door, go on through, and don’t look back. I’ll be right behind you.” He indicated that she should go ahead of him. She hesitated before sliding forward and easing open the door. The damn thing was heavy, and she struggled to pull it open enough to squeeze through. Just a little bit more…
“Hey!”
She whirled in time to see the guard step into the hallway, one hand inside his jacket. “Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.
Before she could answer, a bullet thudded into the door frame above the guard’s head. He turned to face David, who stood in the middle of the hallway. “Run!” David shouted.
But she remained frozen, halfway through the door, terror choking her as the guard retreated into the alcove. He leaned out to fire off a rapid tattoo of shots at David. David returned fire, but the guard kept retreating into the alcove. David plastered himself in the doorway of a room, but the narrow space provided scant cover.
She screamed as a bullet splintered the doorway by David’s head. “Dammit, get out of here!” he shouted as the guard turned his attention to her.
She dived through the doorway and onto the landing beyond as bullets sailed past, then lay flat on the floor, breathing hard and straining to hear something beyond the pounding of her heart and the echo of gunfire in her ears.
After a moment, she realized the hallway on the other side of the door had grown eerily silent. She struggled to her feet. Should she open the door? Was David dead?
At that moment, the door began to open. She plastered herself against the wall, holding her breath, half-expecting the guard’s bulky figure to emerge. Instead, David, blood running down the side of his face, stepped onto the landing.
“Oh God, you’re hurt!” She rushed to his side, but he waved her away.
“A shard from the door hit me in the head. I’ll be fine.”
“What happened to the guard?” she asked.
“He’s dead.”
She thought she might be sick to her stomach. Up until tonight, the danger in what they were doing had been horror-movie thrills—scary, but a little distant and unreal. The events of the last hour had brought everything into razor sharp focus. “Come on, we have to get going!” David put a hand to her back, urging her down the stairs.
They descended in silence, stopping just outside the door leading to the lobby. “As soon as you get out, head for the casino and get lost in the crowd,” he said. “Exit onto the Strip and get back to the hotel as quickly as possible. Call your sister and have her stay with you.”
She nodded. “When will I see you again?”
“I don’t know. It’s probably better if you don’t.”
“But David—”
He took her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. “I’ll never forget these past couple of days with you. You’ve made me feel things I thought I wasn’t capable of feeling. But this isn’t the life for you. It’s too dangerous. You deserve a home and a family and a normal, safe life.”
“David, I don’t want those things if I can’t have them with you.”
The muscles along his jaw tightened, and he drew a ragged breath. “And I just want you to be safe.” He kissed her—a quick, hard pressing of his lips to hers. “Now
go.” He pushed her gently away. “Please.”
…
Laura gave him one last, searching look before she turned and opened the door. He watched her walk across the lobby and disappear into the lights and confusion of the casino. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the cool metal of the doorframe. He’d done something right tonight, at least, by getting Laura out of harm’s way.
He opened his eyes and searched the lobby for some sign of Tommy, but what he saw instead made him feel as if he’d swallowed nails. Charlie and Victor pushed their way through the crowd, looking back and forth like bird dogs on the scent of prey. If they kept moving toward the casino, they were bound to spot Laura.
He shoved the gun into his pocket and stepped out into the lobby. The two goons probably wouldn’t wait for nightfall to kill him, but he couldn’t risk them finding Laura and hurting her.
Before he could reach them, Charlie shouted, then lunged forward and grabbed hold of a man who’d been seated on a banquette near the front door. Tommy struggled only briefly before he stiffened and fell silent. From his posture, David guessed Charlie had shoved a gun into the younger man’s back.
At that moment, Tommy’s eyes met David’s. The terror in them was evident even across the lobby. If Frank Zacolli had sent his two enforcers after his own son, Tommy was in big trouble, and he knew it. The best chance the state had of putting Frank Zacolli behind bars for good could end up dead in the desert if David didn’t do something to save him.
Charlie, Victor, and Tommy moved toward the casino. David fell in behind them, staying back but keeping them in sight. As they moved among the slot machines and poker tables, he saw no sign of Laura. She must be on her way back to the hotel, where he hoped she’d stay out of sight until her flight left in the morning. Zacolli would no doubt like to shut her up, but she was small game compared to David and Tommy; he’d figure he had plenty of time to eliminate her later.
When the trio boarded an elevator, David waited and took the next car up. He had to get off at the thirty-fourth floor, since he didn’t have access to the penthouse floor, but he made quick work of the lock on the stairwell and headed up. He hoped this wasn’t the worst decision he’d ever made—and that it wouldn’t be his last.
Chapter Twelve
Laura made it as far as a grouping of sofas in the lobby of her hotel before her legs gave out. She sank into the cushions and tried to control her trembling. When Zacolli had ordered Joseph to tie her up and take her away, she’d been sure she was going to die—probably after being raped and tortured. That she’d escaped was a miracle, one she hoped to never have to repeat.
This was what being with David—staying with him—would be like. She’d know more moments of terror and danger like this. These were the kinds of people he associated with every day. He was part of this ugly, dark, and dangerous world.
She was a pre-school teacher who lived in a world of cute little children and storybook bunnies. Her biggest dilemmas were how to get fruit punch stains off pint-sized desks and whether to have the frozen chicken meal or the soup-for-one for dinner.
She took a deep breath, her heart beginning to return to a normal pace. The desire to get back to her classroom almost overwhelmed her. She needed the innocence of her students to wash away the sordidness of her encounter with the Zacolli family.
She needed David, too. And he needed her. He needed the balance and normalcy she could bring to his unbalanced and abnormal life. Would he ever accept the gifts she offered? Maybe all these years chasing the mob had scarred him too deeply. Maybe, unlike her, he wasn’t willing to risk everything for love.
She was still sitting in the same spot half an hour later when Rachel swooped in like Glenda the Good Witch to rescue her—though really, she reminded her more of the flying monkeys: relentless, screeching, and a little scary. “Thank God you called!” Rachel plopped down next to her on the sofa. “I was ready to call the police. It’s not like you to just disappear that way. What has gotten into you?”
Love had gotten into her. And fear, and panic, and a whole gamut of other emotions she didn’t care to catalog. But what she said to Rachel was “Nothing. Nothing’s gotten in to me.”
“Liar!” Rachel poked her in the chest. “I heard you talking to that guy. You’re supposed to be married, so you had no business picking up a male stripper.”
“Rob is a dancer, not a stripper. And I didn’t pick him up. He did a favor for me.”
“Uh-huh. I know what kind of favors those dancers do. I wasn’t born yesterday, and I watch TV, you know. I’m not as naïve as you think I am.”
But she was. They all were. Life in Davenport couldn’t possibly prepare someone for the world of killing and corruption that mobsters like Frank Zacolli and his associates lived in. “Rob helped me surprise a friend,” she said. “For his birthday.”
“You haven’t been in Vegas long enough to make friends.”
“I’ve been in Vegas long enough for a lot of things.”
“Right. Like your so-called marriage.”
“Enough!” She took both Rachel’s hands -- it was either that, or strangle her sister. If Rachel only knew what she’d been through this evening…As it was, her voice shook when she spoke. “Just because David and I haven’t known each other for half of our lives, and even though we weren’t engaged for two years and didn’t have a big, expensive ceremony, that doesn’t make our marriage any less real. I love him, and I’m worried about him now. If you can’t respect that, then please…just shut up.”
Rachel blinked like one of those dolls with the weighted eyelids that opened and shut when you tilted their heads. She had the same perfect, doll-like features and porcelain skin, and like a favorite doll, Laura both adored her and had a hard time relating to her.
“I’m sorry, Laura,” she said. “You’re always so smart and sensible. I’m sure you wouldn’t have married David if you didn’t love him.”
She released her sister’s hands. “That would be crazy,” she agreed. It was crazier still that she really had fallen for the guy. But maybe when the right two people found each other, it didn’t take very long to recognize love.
“Do you really think something bad has happened to David?” Rachel asked.
“I hope not.” She suppressed a shudder, remembering Zacolli’s cold smile. David had deliberately gone back to find Tommy. Why hadn’t she tried harder to stop him?
“I didn’t like the looks of those two guys from earlier,” Rachel said. “They looked like extras in Boardwalk Empire, or The Sopranos.”
“Maybe they were,” she said, only half-listening to her sister, her mind too full of worry and fear.
“Oh, Laura, David isn’t in the mob, is he?” Rachel’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Does that make you a mafia wife? Have you met the Don? Is David a made man?”
“David is not part of the mafia.”
“Good, because as a prosecuting attorney, Josh would never approve.” But Rachel looked disappointed. “I’d hate to have to sneak around behind his back to visit my own sister.”
“You’d sneak behind Josh’s back to visit me?”
“Of course! You may drive me crazy sometimes, but you’re still my sister.”
Laura hugged her close. “Thanks.”
“What are you going to do?” Rachel asked.
She hadn’t changed her ticket home, because David had made it clear that he’d send her home once he no longer needed her help. But she’d never believed things would end like this, without her knowing he was safe—without even the chance to say good-bye. “I can’t leave until I know David is all right.”
“You have to come home,” Rachel said. “You can’t afford to stay here.”
True enough. Her credit cards were charged to the hilt, and what she had left of the money she’d won playing blackjack wouldn’t last long. “Maybe we’ll find out something tonight,” she said. “I should go back to our hotel room, in case David shows up there.” He’d to
ld her to go back to the hotel room and wait. He hadn’t said anything about joining her there, but she refused to give up hope.
“I’ll go with you.” Rachel stood and offered a hand to pull her up.
“It’s your last night in Vegas,” Laura protested. “You should be having fun with your friends.”
“Kimmie got sick from drinking all those shots and went back to her room. Mindy and Casey latched onto a couple of soccer players from Brazil and agreed to show them around. I was probably going to be stuck alone anyway.” She slipped her arm through Laura’s. “We can talk about the wedding next weekend. That will take your mind off your troubles.”
She doubted a discussion of the flower arrangements, place settings, and musical selections for Rachel’s elaborate wedding would distract her from her worries about David, but it would keep Rachel from asking more questions about what was really going on. She was usually a truthful person, but the truth of the last few days was difficult to sort out and almost impossible to explain.
…
The door of the penthouse opened to admit Tommy and his two guards. David watched from behind a maid’s cart as the door closed firmly behind them. Now what? He couldn’t rescue Tommy single-handedly, especially when he had no idea what was happening inside Zacolli’s apartment.
He had to get closer. Pushing the cart, he made his way to the door next to the one that led to Zacolli’s rooms. He knocked softly. “Housekeeping,” he called in a falsetto.
No answer. The room probably belonged to one of Zacolli’s lieutenants, who was either next door with the boss or out on another errand.
He slipped what to the casual observer appeared to be a dry erase marker from his pocket and removed the cap. He fit the tip into the hole at the bottom of the door lock and it opened easily. James Bond wasn’t the only one with a few tricks up his sleeve.
Inside the room, he secured the lock and headed to the wall next to Zacolli’s rooms. He put his ear to the wall and clearly heard Tommy’s voice. “Dad!” Thank God for thin hotel room walls.