Wicked Secret
Page 17
His eyes flared in surprise.
“A good deal?” I’d repeated. “You think living in a home that’s not mine, doing your cooking and cleaning, taking care of a cancer-riddled child, and being available at your whim to fuck is a good deal?”
August hadn’t responded, just watched me warily.
“Granted… taking care of Sam is a pleasure. Cleaning house and cooking meals are responsibilities I don’t mind. But being installed in a guest room while having you sneak into my room to quietly fuck me so our son doesn’t find out is abhorrent to me. Being nothing more than your plaything when we used to be so much more is simply insulting, and I’m done with it.”
“Leighton,” he’d murmured, his eyes sympathetic.
“Don’t,” I’d warned, holding my hands up. “This conversation is over. I appreciate you letting us stay here—I do—and I’m going to continue to take you up on that offer until we can realistically move into a new place. But the only things we’re sharing from now on are the duties involved in raising our child. Don’t ask for anything else from me.”
August had reached out toward me. If he’d touched me, I might have reconsidered the finality of my words.
I’d decided to take the safest bet… and fled from his room.
He had not chased after me.
Hadn’t spoken to me this morning, either, which was also fine by me.
“What do you think?” the realtor asks after sneaking up behind me in the master suite.
I startle, but then give her a tentative smile. “I need to think about the choices, but what you’ve presented so far is sufficient. It’s going to boil down between the two- and-three bedrooms, and my dad and I have to talk. If he stays, we’ll want the three-bedroom. If not, the two will be fine.”
She nods, clearly disappointed I’m not chunking down a deposit already.
“I’ll have an answer to you by tomorrow,” I promise. “And I’ll be able to bring the deposit to you then.”
She perks up, beaming.
As my dad and I head to the car, he asks, “Want to get some lunch?”
“Sure,” I reply easily. We need to have a come-to-Jesus meeting. I need a solid answer from him on if he’s leaving or staying so I can move on with my life as well.
“How about the Grande Casino?” he suggests. “They have a great buffet.”
My lips curl upward, and I chuckle. “That’s where your mysterious lady friend works, right? Will I get a peek at her?”
“I thought I’d introduce you to her,” he says, and I blink in surprise. He shrugs. “I mean… if I stay, you might as well know I like her.”
“Then why don’t you just commit to staying?” I ask with a sigh of frustration. “If she’s that special, I don’t see why you would even consider—”
“It’s because I’m a danger,” my dad cuts in over me.
“August doesn’t think so,” I point out.
My dad sighs. “Yeah… I know, so let’s go through it all again over lunch. We’ll talk about it some more.”
That’s progress, which makes me happy. “All right. Let’s do this. Lunch and meeting your lady friend.”
♦
The Grande Casino isn’t all that grand compared to many of the other casinos, but it has an old Vegas charm to it. Dad’s so-called “lady friend” is actually a blackjack dealer. She’s on duty when we arrive. When we walk by her table, he makes brief eye contact with her.
Enough that I notice her eyes lighting up when she spots him and my dad smiling in a way I’ve never, ever seen him do before. My mom died when I was two. I have no memories of her, but when I used to imagine what they were like together—when my dad would talk about her in such a way I knew they’d had true love—I imagined they might look at each other that way.
One thing is for sure… this woman is my ace-in-the-hole to finally make Dad commit to staying—if I can just convince him the danger is no greater with him here.
My dad texts her—Marilyn—that we’re going to grab lunch if she wants to join us on her next break. He clearly knows her schedule because he says, “She’ll probably be about fifteen minutes.”
Looping my arm through his and leaning into him as we walk through the casino toward the buffet restaurant, I impart a little teasing. “Dad,” I drawl, making myself sound like a pouty, drama-filled teenager, “you didn’t tell me how pretty she is. Or how young, for that matter. What is she… in her forties, maybe? Look at you go.”
My dad snorts, shaking his head. “Oh, stop it. And you wonder why it has taken me this long to introduce you.”
“You’ve known her for what… a month?” I laugh. “It’s more than enough time.”
I expect my dad to give me more grief, and I’m fully prepared to dish it back. Instead, he stops cold in his tracks. My blood turns to ice when I see the look on his face.
Absolute terror.
I whip my head over to see his gaze pinned to a roulette table where two dark-haired men in expensive-looking suits are playing. They both have mixed drinks on the table beside them and fat cigars in their hands.
My dad doesn’t have to say a word. I can tell by the expression on his face that these men must be from the mob family we’ve been hiding from for the last ten years.
One says something and the other laughs… just as he raises his head and makes direct eye contact with me.
He doesn’t know me, of course, so his gaze starts to slide away, but then immediately snaps to my dad.
I only have a fraction of a second to see the man frown—that look that says maybe you know someone but you’re not sure—before my father has me whipped in the opposite direction and he’s dragging me through the casino. He cuts a hard right through a line of slot machines, and we attempt to blend in with the midday crowd.
Having no clue if the men recognized my dad or if they’re in pursuit, I can’t help but continuously look over my shoulder as we make a break for it.
I can’t see anything—just people milling about—but I can’t shake the feeling we’re in mortal danger.
It seems to take forever, but we finally make it out of the casino. We speed-walk down the street. It’s half a block before we make another right and cross the street to the parking garage. Dad has an iron grip on my arm, tugging me along even though I have no problem going faster than we already are. I feel weighed down by panic, but I don’t see the men coming after us.
Doesn’t mean we haven’t been made, though.
Those men could have had other men in the casino or out on the street.
We hustle through the garage. “Give me your keys,” my dad orders.
I reach into my purse, then press them into his hand without argument. When we reach my car, we fling ourselves into it.
As Dad revs the engine and puts it in reverse, I frantically scan the area, but don’t see anything alarming. My dad doesn’t waste time. He pulls out of the spot, making sharp turns as fast as possible—without being too dangerous—to get us out of the parking garage.
“Was that—”
“Yeah,” my dad says bitterly, and it hits me… our entire world has once again been upended.
Dad pulls out onto the street. Luckily, the first light we come to is green, so we sail on through. Periodically glancing in the rearview mirror, my dad mutters, “I don’t think anyone is following us.”
“We can’t go to August’s house,” I say. “Sam’s there.”
“I know,” he replies flatly. It hits me then that we don’t have a home anymore as of this moment. “Call August. Tell him to find us somewhere safe.”
CHAPTER 25
August
“Where are they?” I ask as I burst into the front door of Jameson Force Security.
Rachel meets me, knowing full well I’m in “charge forcefully in, ask questions later” mode.
Rachel Wright is first in command at the Vegas office of Jameson, a position she ascended to when our owner, Kynan McGrath, moved the official headquar
ters to Pittsburgh. I’d involved her as soon as I’d gotten off the phone with Leighton.
Still not sure my pulse has returned to normal from her phone call. Fuck, from her very first words, my body had reacted because I could hear not only the fear in her voice, but also the resignation that her life was once again forced into a different direction.
“August… they’re here and they spotted us.”
I’d known exactly what she’d meant. Hadn’t needed clarification. Hadn’t questioned if she’d perhaps been mistaken. I’d taken a deep breath while willing my voice to be calm and reassuring.
“What happened?” I’d asked.
“We were just walking through the Grande Casino, and my dad spotted them. Two guys he recognized. They were playing blackjack.”
“Did they see you?”
“Yes,” she exhaled.
“Did they seem shocked?” I pressed.
“Yes,” she exclaimed. “As a matter of fact, yes… I remember one guy seemed surprised, but then Dad was dragging me off and we were running.”
“That’s good,” I reassure her. “That means this was just bad fucking luck… coincidental. Where are you now?”
“Um… we just passed the Golden Nugget. We didn’t want to go near your house, so we’re just circling around.”
“Is anyone following you?”
“I don’t think so,” she replied shakily before asking her dad, “See anything?”
At that point, I’d assumed Mike was driving, and I’d been grateful for it. The quaver in Leighton’s voice sounded like she was on the verge of losing it.
“I want you to head straight for my office,” I’d instructed. “I’m texting you the address now. You’re not far from there. Some of my teammates will be outside waiting for you. Don’t worry about parking. Just pull up on the street, get out of the car, and head in. They’ll handle everything else.”
“Oh, God,” she’d moaned, and I’d known she was playing out what that scenario might look like. If they were being followed, would there be a mad dash indoors through a hail of bullets as the mobsters drove by?
I’d sure as fuck prayed not, but we’d be ready.
“I’m heading out now,” I told her. “I’ll meet you at Jameson.”
“No,” she’d screeched. “Don’t leave Sam. You need to get him out of here. Now. Take him and run.”
“Leighton,” I’d murmured, lowering my voice to a gentle hum to try to bring her down. “You said they’re not following you, right? They were surprised to see you. It doesn’t sound like they know your identities. I believe Sam is probably safest at my house, but I’m going to have some guys come over and stay here with him, okay? Just until we can sort this out and come up with a game plan.”
She hadn’t been convinced. I could hear it in her voice—she didn’t have an ounce of trust in what I’d told her. At that moment, fear and the need to run had taken over her, but fuck if I’d let that happen until I was absolutely sure there was a monster to run from.
Rachel moves closer, arms crossing over her chest. I want to blow by her, find Leighton, and… what?
Christ… I just want to hug her. Promise to protect her. To never let anything happen to her, Sam, or Mike. My immediate need right now isn’t to solve this dilemma—it’s just to embrace her.
I force myself to settle, plant my feet, and give Rachel my attention.
“I called Kynan. He has somebody at DOJ checking into this. We’ll be hearing something back soon, I hope. Until then, it doesn’t appear they were followed here, but there’s always the possibility those men made Leighton’s car.”
“It’s registered to their address in Denver,” I muse. “But it’s easy enough to take that address and learn Mike’s new name.”
She nods somberly. “If that’s the case, then their covers could be completely compromised.”
“Which would include Sam’s,” I sat, following through to that conclusion.
“Well, we won’t know for sure until the DOJ can listen in on the phones they have tapped and talk to some informants. Could be a few days.”
I shrug, considering best and worst-case scenarios. Worst is they manage to figure out Mike’s real identity and have the means to track his credit card purchases. It could potentially put them close to my house if he’d bought something near my neighborhood. Still, there’s nothing putting him specifically at my house. Nothing they could dig up quickly that could tie me to the family.
“Fuck,” I mutter, scrubbing a hand along my jaw in irritation. It was bad enough Leighton and I seem to be at a crossroads, and now… we may actually be forced to go in opposite directions.
“Where are they?” I ask again.
She gestures over her shoulder. “Conference room three.”
I find Leighton and her dad sitting beside each other, heads bent in close and holding hands. I can’t imagine what they’re feeling now, but if it’s anything close to what they were feeling when they first had to flee a decade ago, I bet they’re hatching plans.
Despite my desire to put a stop to that right now—any thought of a scenario that would take Leighton and Sam from me—I give in to a deep emotional need right now.
I move around the conference room table, Leighton following my progress as I advance toward her. Putting my hand to her arm, I pull her up out of the chair, breaking her contact with her father.
Then I yank her into me, so she’s pressed into my chest, and band my arms around her. She goes taut, momentarily doesn’t react, and then… yeah, right there… she melts and actually snuggles into me.
Not for long, though. She gives in just briefly before she’s pulling away. A quick peek at Mike tells me I’ve shocked him with my spontaneous act of affection toward his daughter.
Leighton sinks down in her chair, immediately worrying at her lip with her teeth. “Sam’s okay?” she asks.
I nod. “Got two men there on the outside, armed and watching. My parents are keeping him entertained. He has no clue what’s going on.”
Leighton sighs with relief, but then asks the tough question. “What are we going to do?”
Seizing on the opportunity to put the situation into perspective, I let my gaze move between Leighton and Mike. “We don’t know if this is anything to worry about just yet.”
“They’re here,” Mike growls, rising slightly in his seat. “They know I’m in Vegas. By this time tomorrow, there will be dozens of their men combing this city.”
“Which is why you won’t be galivanting around it,” I reply, giving him a pointed look. “But you’re safe here. I believe you’re going to be safe at my house as well. There’s nothing tying us together.”
Well, there is, but I don’t want to worry them. Hypothetically, I suppose a determined mob family hell-bent on revenge could hire the best investigator out there. If they were able to make Leighton’s car and get her license plate number, they’d track her to Denver. They’d find out about Mike. When they talked to neighbors, they’d ultimately learn about Sam.
That he has cancer and the family went to Vegas for treatment. Some deep digging might turn up people who—for the right amount of money—would give up my name as being the father who came to the hospital every damn day.
It’s conceivable they could find me. Not something that will happen today, but it could eventually.
“Let’s see what Kynan’s contacts at DOJ have to say,” I reassure them. “We’ve got a guy in the Pittsburgh office who can even run risk assessments once we get the information in.”
Mike gives a stiff nod as Leighton’s bleary-eyed gaze moves out the window. When the door opens, Rachel comes in carrying a laptop. “I have some good news.”
Leighton and Mike sit straight in their chairs. Rachel puts the laptop before them, and I move up behind her to see what she has.
“The security office at the Grande Casino sent us over the relevant camera feeds,” she says over her shoulder. “Got a friend of a friend who works there.”
We quietly watch it unfurl. The men are clearly surprised to see Mike, who moves with incredible speed to pull Leighton away. Both men jump up from the table to give chase. Mike quite brilliantly cuts to the right, maneuvering through slot machines, and then we lose sight of them.
Rachel taps another button. A feed comes up. “This is Mike and Leighton leaving the casino. Those men don’t follow them out the door.”
Once again, she hits another key, so yet another feed pops up. “The outside street view camera.”
We watch as Mike and Leighton hurry across the street, then disappear into the parking garage. We wait for several moments before the men finally fly out the door, both running a few paces in opposite directions. Both scan all around, clearly frustrated not to have caught up with their prey.
They come together, talking animatedly with waving hands. One of the men pulls out a cell phone and calls someone, presumably to report their sighting. Then they both return to the casino.
“The exit for the parking garage is on a different street,” Mike says. “It would appear they didn’t get our license plate.”
“Appears that way,” Rachel says with a smile. “Doesn’t mean they’re not coming to Vegas to search for you, but, at least for now, it doesn’t look like they’re going to get your current identity.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Leighton says, a tinge of hysteria in her voice. “We can’t take any chances. We need to leave. Figure out a way to get new identities.”
Frantically, she implores me. “Surely you have some contacts, right? Even black market. We’ll do whatever it takes.”
I hold my hands up, trying to calm her with my tone. “Not so fast, Leighton. We don’t even know how serious they are about pursuing y’all. It’s been a long time, and it would be like finding a needle in a haystack. They may not dedicate the resources.”