Family & Fortune (The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod Book 5)

by Tracy Ellen

  He held out a pale hand with long spidery fingers for me to shake. He was impeccably dressed again in a pin-striped suit, but the ghoulish man seriously needed some sun. He was one bloody nose away from albino white.

  I held up my small purse in one hand, latte in the other, and shrugged off his attempt to shake hands. You couldn’t pay me enough to voluntarily touch Kyle Koch.

  Letting my smile fade away, I replied flatly, “Oh, right. You’re the man who was choking that much smaller other man.” I frowned in puzzled confusion. “But how did you know my name?”

  Other than a slow blink of pale blonde eyelashes, Kyle Koch didn’t miss a beat or lose the tight smile. “I overheard you telling the maid your name.”

  I raised my brows. “Not my last name, you didn’t.”

  “But where else could I have learned your last name?” Kyle Koch asked innocently.

  I thought I saw a glimpse of sharp teeth when his smile stretched. He enjoyed toying with me.

  “Not from the maid,” I replied evenly.

  “No? Then perhaps I discovered it from the helpful police detectives you sent my way.” His eyes were alive with mockery when he shuddered. “Such a terrible thing. A murdered young woman, and right here in the Bellagio under our very noses.”

  I smiled sweetly. “And yet, here you still are.”

  “What, did you expect me to be arrested?” He chuckled through half-closed lips, and the sound was anything but affable. “A girlfriend was more than willing to provide an alibi to the police that we’d spent the entire night together on Saturday.” His eyes sparkled with malicious amusement when he eyed me quizzically again. “You seem surprised I have an alibi?”

  Obviously, Kyle Koch either thought I was too dense to understand there could be a double meaning in the questionable wording of his alibi or he wanted to intimidate me.

  Now I knew how a bug felt when placing that first step on a spider’s sticky web. I quelled the urge to squirm under Kyle Koch’s creepily intense regard and replied in an airy manner, “No, I’m not surprised you have an alibi…”

  He took a small step closer. “What surprises you then, Anabel Axelrod?”

  I didn’t flinch as Kyle the Cock loomed over me. The best way to fight a bully, other than a vicious crotch kick, was to take control of the situation.

  “Well, actually, there are two things that surprised me about what you said,” I replied matter-of-factly, “but you’re not going to like hearing either one.”

  The pale blonde man tilted his head. From my angle directly below him, I definitely saw sharp teeth. An image of Kyle’s slickly styled blonde head buried in a young woman’s stomach while his sharp teeth ripped open her guts sprang into my head.

  ‘Whoa! No more zombie books for you,’ the mean mommy voice bellowed in alarm.

  “As we become better acquainted, you’ll find it’s not wise to tell me something I won’t be happy to hear.”

  When a bully of Kyle Koch’s caliber tries to intimidate me, I find it’s helpful to take the stinger out of their words by holding them up to the light and being honest in return. Like anything evil or dark, the light of day reduces the power of words and reveals their puniness.

  “Luckily for me, your happiness is not my problem.” I shrugged insouciantly. “Hey, if you’re a man that can’t take an honest answer, then don’t ask me a question.”

  I didn’t stare down Kyle Koch because he would get off on the attempt to bend me under his will, not that he could do so in this lifetime. What I did was smile brightly at a passing couple and call out a cheery greeting to enforce my message to Kyle the Kochsucker that I didn’t give a damn what he thought.

  Out of my peripheral vision, I observed the white spider fingers flex, but his voice was politeness personified. “Forgive my mistake, I so rarely deal with an honest woman, I didn’t recognize the one standing in front of me. Please,” he waved a peremptory hand, “tell me the two reasons why you weren’t surprised.”

  I glanced at the closed elevator doors, wishing they would hurry the heck up so I could escape from this spook. “I was surprised to hear the way you described your alibi to the police. ‘A girlfriend was more than willing to provide an alibi,’ as if she was some generic woman and she was coerced by you into cooperating.” I forced myself to look up into his face. “And they bought that alibi, huh?”

  “Perhaps I described my alibi to you in blunter terms than I did to the police because I sensed an affinity between us.” The creepy non-smile was back on his mouth as he stared fixedly at me. “What was your second reason?”

  Okay, that was super disturbing, but I laughed a little. “The second? I was totally surprised you even have a girlfriend.”

  “Had a girlfriend,” he corrected the tense softly, eyes lowering from my face to below my neck. I was thankful to be zipped up in a yoga hoodie, although it was tightly form-fitting. “I sense a break up in my immediate future.”

  ‘If you only knew, Douchebag,’ I thought, hoping Carrie was far away from Vegas by now with her sister.

  “Why don’t you join me for breakfast and we can discuss your fascination with my girlfriend status?”

  Rather than saying I’d eat vomit first, I politely smiled my regrets. “No thank you. Besides, it wasn’t fascination, merely curiosity and you’ve answered my questions.”

  “No thank you?” He repeated, and while his smile was ingratiating, his gaze was flat at my refusal. “Why not? It’s only breakfast.”

  I bit my lip thinking of explaining to Batman that I ditched him to go out to breakfast with a spooky spider man. However, I had not the slightest compulsion to explain myself to Kyle Koch. “I wasn’t being coy when I said no thanks.”

  A mottled flush was rising under Kyle’s extremely pale skin when another man’s laughing voice boomed out directly behind us and caused me to jump a foot in the air.

  “Kyle, my man, let it go. Sometimes with the ladies, no means no. Now introduce me to your little friend.”

  I sidestepped Kyle’s hand reaching out for my arm and faced an older man in his late fifties whose charming demeanor didn’t disguise the undertone of command in his voice. Here was a man that would brook no disobedience in his minions. He was flanked by two incredible hulk types that didn’t look at me, but watched the lobby.

  Kyle Koch straightened to attention, his face an immediate mask of servility. “Anabel Axelrod, my employer, Mr. Vincent Girdelli or Mr. G.”

  Kyle ignored the hulks as if they didn’t exist.

  From Vincent Girdelli’s hawk nose and thick head of black hair streaked attractively with silver at the temples, to his robust build expensively dressed in a double-breasted suit, the man was the epitome of everything a powerful Italian gangster should be. He even wore a heavy gold pinky ring that winked with diamonds every time he gestured dramatically.

  I was instantly smitten with the man’s machismo, but still, he was Kyle the Kochsucker’s employer. That fact alone made him suspect.

  Regardless if I wanted to clap in delight to meet him, I merely nodded politely. “Mr. Girdelli, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” I raised my brows and couldn’t resist adding, “But shame on you, sir. Only sometimes with the ladies no means no?”

  There was a sharp intake of breath from the three men surrounding us.

  But Mr. Girdelli’s charming laughter boomed out again. “Did I say that?” Sharp black eyes evaluated me from head to toe in one sweep. “I see I’ll need to mind my Ps and Qs with you, cupcake.”

  When he kissed the knuckles of the hand I held out to shake, I kept my face stoic, but grinned broadly inside.

  I noted Kyle’s sharp exhalation of relief that I’d made my hand available to Mr. Girdelli when I hadn’t for him. The Kochsucker didn’t seem offended for his own sake, but relieved I hadn’t disrespected his employer. Mr. Vincent Girdelli must be one wingdinger of a badass.

  He squeezed my hand, but didn’t release it as he hummed in his throat. “The pleasure is all mi
ne, cupcake.”

  Kyle said stiffly, “He prefers to be called Mr. G.”

  Mr. G. patted my hand captured between both of his. “Yeah, Mr. Girdelli’s my old man. But a pretty little thing like you can call me Big Daddy G.” Mr. G. winked broadly. “All my special lady friends call me Big Daddy G.”

  “I understand perfectly because I prefer Anabel or Bel over cupcake or pretty little thing.” I barely contained my grin, the man was such a caricature of an old school schmoozer. The kind of man who would kiss your baby and then kill your husband. “And thank you, but I’ll have to stick with Mr. G.”

  Again, there were the sharp intakes of breath.

  Their fear of disappointing Mr. G. was beginning to annoy me. I sipped my latte while thinking, ‘Geez, who was this guy? Some spoiled descendant of Caligula?’

  Mr. G. looked annoyed, as well. He motioned curtly to his minions to shut up and then smiled at me with a mouthful of gleaming white teeth. “May I call you Bellissima then?”

  “Sure, that’s close enough.” I wondered if I could get his autograph, so that I could brag to Anna a badass gangster called me most beautiful. In my yoga pants, I’d probably be safe from ravishment if I kept his signature to below the kneecap.

  His caressing command interrupted my daydreams. “Bellissima, tell me. Why are you refusing to call me Big Daddy G?”

  I sighed, tired of these men who couldn’t take no for answer. At least Mr. G. didn’t make my skin crawl and had asked politely. “I already had one Big Daddy in my life, and while he’s dead, I won’t dishonor my father’s memory by calling anybody else by his nickname.”

  Not taking his eyes off me, Mr. G. asked Kyle Koch, “Where did you find this woman?”

  Kyle leaned over and whispered something in his ear that caused the gangster’s thick eyebrows to raise high on his forehead. An enigmatic smile continued to grow while he listened.

  I rolled my eyes at their rudeness and poked the button of the elevator repeatedly. “Why is this taking so long?” I looked back at the two hulks. “Are there stairs anywhere around here?”

  They didn’t speak, but shifted nervously from foot to foot.

  I rolled my eyes again and muttered under my breath, “What, Caligula got your tongues?”

  Mr. G. said something to one of the hulks. He fumbled with a key card in his hand and the doors to the elevators magically opened.

  The Italian bowed towards the empty car. “It’s a quirk of mine the Bellagio indulges to never wait for elevators. Please, I apologize for the delay in keeping a lady waiting.”

  “Quirk, my ass,” I groused grumpily, shaking my head over his inflated sense of entitlement.

  It was amazing how quickly machismo could turn the corner into egomania and not be so cute anymore when you added money and power to the mix. Entering the elevator, I stood to the far side with my back to the wall as they all piled in beside me.

  I fibbed and told Hulk One to drop me off on thirty one. The ride was swift, and Mr. G. remained silently contemplative, although he smiled gallantly whenever I met his appraising eyes. I didn’t look Kyle Koch’s way, but his intense cold stare was irritating. Drowning in testosterone and men’s cologne, my exercise high was fast disappearing and not even the espresso boost was doing it for me.

  The elevator dinged on thirty one. I was off before the doors were fully opened, tossing a courteous, “Nice to meet you, have a nice day” over my shoulder.

  It took me a minute to find the stairs, and when I came out of the stairwell on twenty nine, I ran into the welcomed sight of Jazy carrying a bucket of ice.

  “Hey Jazy, do you have your cell phone handy?”

  She winced a little at my voice, a hand rubbing her temple. “In my room.”

  “I need to make a few quick calls. I left my phone in the limo yesterday.”

  “Sucks to be you,” she mumbled, shuffling down the hall.

  “If you only knew,” I agreed feelingly.

  Tre J was in the shower when we got to their suite. Jazy handed me the phone and then collapsed on the sofa to guzzle ice water.

  I walked into the bedroom. Digging out the card the detectives had left with me yesterday, I dialed and got Detective Bobby’s voicemail. “Hi, this is Anabel Axelrod. I’m calling on my sister’s cell phone because I lost mine. I met Carrie Bradley, the sister of Kyle Koch’s girlfriend last night in a bar. If Kyle Koch named Catrina Bradley as his alibi for Saturday night, I think you need to contact Carrie. According to our conversation last night, she had arrived from Ohio on Saturday. She spent all of Saturday night and Sunday following her drunk twin sister, Catrina around to bars. Carrie left last night to drive Catrina back to Ohio to get her away from Kyle Koch’s bad influence. Here is Carrie’s cell number. I’d appreciate it if you could take a moment to text back you got this message.”

  Ending the call, I texted Billy’s cell to direct him to contact Stella or Jazy’s numbers to report in from the bookstore later today.

  I called Anna who answered on the first ring. “You and Tre better not be too hungover to look great today, Jazy. No excuses. Use eye drops and drink plenty of water to hydrate.”

  “It’s Anabel, and the girls are fine,” I hedged to alleviate any bridal jitters, “but I’ll pass on your instructions to Jazy and Tre. How are you?”

  She laughed. “Oh, hi Junior. I’m feeling fantastic. I slept like the dead until nine. You’re still picking me up for brunch?”

  “Yep. We’re meeting everybody in the lobby. Any news from NanaBel?”

  “I got a text from her. Still no news when they’re getting out of London. The storm has stuck in place much longer than predicted.” Anna sighed into the phone, but her voice was chirpy. “Reg said everything will be ready to FaceTime.”

  “Good.” I quickly calculated. “If their airport doesn’t open in a few hours, they could miss Stella and Eric George’s wedding tomorrow at noon, too.”

  “Yeah, that’s what NanaBel said. It’s looking pretty bleak. She was going to call Stella.”

  I decided not to bother Anna with my latest run in with Kyle Koch or meeting Mr. G.

  Next, I texted NanaBel a quick message letting her know that we missed her, and to thank the baron for everything he’d done to make our time at the Bellagio more luxurious.

  “And for saving my butt with the security staff,” I added with a shudder, laughing out loud at the idea Anna could have received the frightening message I’d been kicked out of the hotel for fighting in a bar.

  Starting to walk back to the living room, I remembered I was now a fabulous girlfriend and texted Luke that I’d lost my phone in the limo.

  Done with calls, I found Jazy in the same place on the sofa with a wet cloth over her face.

  “Jazy, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Would you and Tre have a problem with me telling Luke about the horse rescue operation, or at least about the night at that farmer’s house when he shot himself?”

  Jazy was quiet for so long, I was reaching to shake her awake when she replied, “Let me run it by Tre, but I’m okay with the night of the dead farmer. I’m done with the horse rescue operation for now.”

  Tre walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a robe. “Run what by me?”

  I repeated my request and she immediately agreed with Jazy. “Are you concerned about the police, Bel? Is that why you want Luke’s take on the situation?”

  “Yes, Luke’s got a lot of invaluable experience, so I want to run it by him.”

  Of course, there were several other reasons I wanted Luke in the loop. Knowing things people don’t know that you know can get confusing, if you don’t keep all your ducks in a row. For instance, Jazy wasn’t aware I knew Max Byrd was their third partner in their horse rescue operation. If she was cutting off a two year relationship working with Max on horse business, she was seriously offended and done with him. Neither Tre nor Jazy were aware Crazy was behind the farmer surprising us in the act that resulted in his death. They knew Kenna showed up o
n the road that night, but they didn’t suspect she was involved because they didn’t know about Crazy. It was a wicked web, alright, keeping it all straight in my tired brain.

  I left them to get dressed and went back to my suite. I hoped to find Luke returned from his poker game, but the suite was empty. It was exciting to think his long absence meant he was still in the game. I’d be more bummed he was spending the nights playing poker while we were in Vegas, except those had been his travel plans before the weddings. Also, Luke had invited me to spend a few days in February with him to visit the senior Drakes in Chicago.

  I ran a bath in the deep tub and floated in soothing bath salts, compliments of the Bellagio Spa. With music playing softly, I drifted off and had a leisurely soak.

  When it was time to meet both wedding parties for brunch, Luke still hadn’t shown up. I left without him and brought my wedding finery over to Anna’s suite. All the girls had salon appointments after brunch, so I wouldn’t be returning to my rooms before the ceremony.

  If you’re ever in Las Vegas, I highly recommend the brunch at Caesar’s. It was pricey, but worth every penny for the quality of the food and the modern, yet intimate atmosphere. Luke was missing, and so was Crazy, Reg, and Henry, but the rest of us spent a fun hour telling stories of the previous evening while eating platefuls of food and drinking Mimosas.

  Reg had been relegated to anywhere else in Las Vegas for his breakfast, and Henry was keeping him company. Anna claimed it was because it would be bad luck for the bride and groom to see each other on their wedding day before the ceremony.

  Personally, I believe it was so she could show off the rapper’s autograph on her thigh before Reg made her wash it off.

  Chapter XVIII

  “From This Moment On” by Shania Twain

  Monday 12/31

  3:45 PM

  The afternoon of getting beautified passed by incredibly fast. We had a private room for the bridal party at the Bellagio Salon. All the women of both Anna and Stella’s bridal parties showed up on time for their mani/pedis. Lucy Jasnik was the life of the party. She was beside herself with excitement when her nails were painted with pink glitter polish. Each tiny flower painted on the top of her glitter nails required intense deliberations with her manicurist. A professional photographer snapped pictures of our preparations and Jazy regularly sent NanaBel short video vignettes throughout the time in the salon.