Kasey changed the subject. “How many laps do you do?”
“It depends. At least fifty.”
“You’re very disciplined.”
He lifted his head, looked at her. “Not as much as I should be. Most nights I want to skip the pool and just come straight in here.”
“But you don’t.”
“No. Putting myself through the paces only makes this, my reward, that much sweeter. Discipline was something my father practiced faithfully, and he drilled it into my brother and me. He took nothing for granted. Hell, there is no gamble greater than the gaming business. Right? In the start-up years we never knew from day to day how it would go, if we could keep the doors open.” Jay rubbed the scar above his eye. “The pressure never seemed to ease, not even after our club ranked right up there with the best. A run of bad luck in the pit, a couple big payoffs back to back and we could be right where we started, flat broke. Competition forces us to forever expand, renovate, take one risk after another. Hell, look around at the number of clubs that crumbled in the seventies and eighties.”
She nodded, remembering George’s photos of the bankrupt Mapes and Riverside, landmark hotels on prime riverfront property, each destined to fall under the wrecker’s ball, or if lucky, to go out in a blaze of glory and fireworks in the tradition of the Dunes extravaganza of ‘93.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to go off on a tangent.” Jay sat up. “Do you swim? Work out?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Nothing as disciplined as you. Once or twice a week I assist a friend who teaches self-defense for women. And there’s plenty to do at home. My mother has a small ranch south of town. Orchard, bees, garden. She also runs a boardinghouse. She’s always getting in over her head in something. I help out when I can. Summers are invariably hectic.”
“Your parents, they’re divorced?”
“Yes, years ago. My father is semi-retired. He draws a little social security which he seems able to get by on. Unless, of course, the ponies turn on him.”
“He’s a horseplayer?”
She nodded.
“What does he do when he works?”
“Whatever he can find.”
“If he needs a job, send him around. I can see that he gets work whenever he wants it.”
Kasey nodded, looked away. She appreciated Jay’s offer, but she would never impose on his generosity, particularly where her father was concerned. Dotus would surely take advantage. Not because he was bad or without conscience, but because he was weak.
Jay reached out and took Kasey’s hand. He turned it over, exposing a wrinkled, waterlogged palm.
“You’ve been in too long,” he said.
She drew her hand away, feeling the same vibrations as before in the elevator. “Yes, I know.”
Using the rail, she pulled herself to her feet, realizing just how much her over-long stay in the hot water had sapped her strength. She was conscious of his eyes moving over her body.
She turned, took one step up; but before she could take another. Jay’s arms circled her waist, pulling her back down into the Jacuzzi. Startled, she uttered a soft cry of surprise. His fingers lightly covered her mouth. “Don’t make a sound,” he whispered in her ear.
A shadow passed over them. Backlit from the lighted corridor, a man-shaped shadow stretched from the main glass door across the tiles to the center of the Jacuzzi.
Together, they slid down until the tops of their heads were out of sight.
“Security?” she whispered back.
“I don’t know. Either way, we don’t want to be sitting ducks.”
They were sitting ducks no matter who it was, Kasey thought. Anyone seeing them together, like this, was going to get the wrong impression. She, for one, would not want to explain this to Dianne.
“Jay?”
“Sssh.”
The double glass doors rattled gently several times, as if someone tested them. The shadow was of a man; and from the bulge at the hip where the revolver was, Kasey surmised he was a security officer. Somehow that didn’t make her feel any less nervous. She thought again of her horoscope: Pay attention to your gut feelings.
The shadow drew back, disappeared.
“He’s gone.” Kasey was about to move away from Jay when the shadow returned. Jay’s arm tightened around her.
Was the man at the door playing games with them? Did he know they were in the Jacuzzi? Her pulse raced.
A faint sound of jangling keys. More shadows. The door opening, the man-shadow growing shorter, though more dense, as it moved inside closer to the Jacuzzi.
The Jacuzzi shut down; the bubbles stopped, and the water began to clear. Kasey could make out their submerged bodies. Instinctively they pulled in tighter to each other, becoming as one. She held her breath, aware now that Jay’s heart was beating as fast as hers.
Then, as suddenly as it had come, the shadow retreated. The door closed, and the shadow disappeared.
It seemed an eternity before either dared to stir. Jay made the first move. He leaned across Kasey to the pump, hit the button to reactivate the Jacuzzi, and as he leaned back their eyes met and held. Something magnetic passed between them. Although for the past several minutes he had held her in his arms with nothing more than a film of water separating them, it was the contact of their eyes that seemed to irrevocably draw them together. In the shimmering light she saw within his blue eyes a blend of emotions—passion; anguish; and something more, something that made her shiver deep inside. And she knew, without a doubt, her own eyes mirrored his.
She focused on the scar across his eyebrow. He touched her lips, his fingertips lightly tracing the contours of her mouth. Her lips parted. His hand moved to her hair, his fingers weaving into the damp strands. She felt herself being gently pulled toward him, toward his parted lips. And she felt powerless to stop it.
He pulled back abruptly, released her, and turned away.
Like a hypnotic subject in a B-movie, Kasey snapped out of it with a start. Propelled by a vast array of emotions, she sprang from the Jacuzzi, snatched up her clothes, wrapped the towel around her, and headed for the exit.
She heard a muted splash as Jay dove into the main pool behind her. The sounds of vigorous swimming followed her out the door.
*
The Monk took the stairs, climbing the nine floors with little effort, slipping through the door on the twelfth floor. His luck held. No one had thought to post a guard at the stairs. With cameras in the elevator lobbies only, his presence in the corridor went undetected. He paused at the door to Kasey Atwood’s room. With his master key he could enter and wait inside for her to return. There was nothing he wanted more than to settle up with the hotel snoop. The fact that she worked for King, that King was probably screwing her behind his wife’s back, suggested that King cared for her. And what King cared for, the Monk felt the urge to destroy.
Last week when he’d followed her from the bar, she’d thought she was pretty damn clever doubling back to town and outmaneuvering him on the freeway. There would be no getting away from him the next time. She was as good as dead.
There was no hurry. He knew where to find each and every one of them. And unless something unforeseen happened, time was on his side. In fact, after he finished down the hall, he might just pay her that visit.
He took a moment at the ice-and-vending machine to check it out. The door to a storage room was slightly ajar. He passed without incident.
He continued down the corridor to the door of the King suite and, feeling vulnerable standing out in the open, quickly inserted the keycard. If King’s wife had dead bolted the door behind her husband, he was out of luck.
The green light glowed. He removed the card and turned the handle. The door eased open.
The Monk checked the empty corridor, then ducked inside and closed the door. He turned the bolt.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Jay had completed five more vigorous laps, yet the strenuous exercise did little to stop his mind from racing. I
nstead of erasing thoughts of Kasey, the physical exertion only served to bring her to life—bigger than life. The sight of the dark stripes along the pool’s bottom reminded him of the black bikini she wore, and the warm water was so much like the silky feel of her skin.
Exhausted, he left the pool area. Instead of returning to the suite, he went downstairs to his office. The thought of returning to bed with Dianne while Kasey was still on his mind seemed sacrilegious somehow. He needed time away from both women who, like twin scales braced across his shoulders, weighed heavily upon him.
Jay turned on the desk lamp, crossed to the safe, and opened it. He took out the envelope on the hotel stationery and slid out the newspaper clipping. This one was dated August 27, 1980, and showed a photograph of a large building engulfed in a cloud of smoke. The caption read, “Harvey’s: Explosion cripples Lake Tahoe resort-hotel.” Printed across the bottom was: I’ll bring you down—brick by brick if that’s what it takes.
Jay had received the clipping that morning and had not shown it to anyone, not even Kasey. Resort fires and bombs, the hotel-owner’s greatest nightmare. He returned the envelope to the safe. He would have to tell Loweman, and soon.
At the built-in bar he splashed Wild Turkey into a rock glass then entered the monitor room. The screens were blank. Jay switched on all five and absently stared at them as he sipped his whiskey.
With the exception of the employee checkin area, where a uniformed guard sat at a counter, the other four screens were devoid of people. Three elevator lobbies and the swimming pool.
Jay frowned. He stepped back, studied the other screens. The main lobby and the twelfth-floor lobby and, lastly, the lobby on the third floor, the floor where he was now.
Odd. Why would Brad and Kasey monitor the third floor or the pool, especially after hours?
He called Brad’s room and when his nephew answered, he asked, “Brad, were you and Kasey monitoring the pool or the third floor?”
“The pool? Not us. No reason to. Why?”
“Did you both leave together?”
“Sure, I walked her to her door like I do every night. Like you asked me to. What’s going on?”
“I’ll get back to you.” Jay hung up and quickly dialed Saget’s cellular phone. When the man answered. Jay said, “King here. Has he left his apartment?”
“No, Mr. King. He and his female friend are kickin’ back on the deck. I can see them real good.”
“They’ve been out there the entire time?”
“No, sir. Ducked inside for a while. Ten minutes, tops. Now they’re back out, enjoying a smoke and a cool one.”
“You’re sure it’s Andrews? You’re sure he never left the apartment?”
“His Pontiac never left the carport.”
“Pontiac? Andrews drives a Pontiac?”
“Yeah. An old blue one. Most of the paint’s oxidized and faded—”
“Shit.” Jay disconnected. He quickly dialed again.
*
Dianne King lay on her back, one arm above her head, the other across her stomach. The sheet covered her to the waist. Her blonde hair, still slightly damp at forehead and nape, stuck to her skin in wispy spikes. The bed smelled of sex.
The Monk stood at the side of the bed and watched the woman sleep. He shifted the knife to his left hand, the shiny steel glinting in the pale moonlight. King’s wife was a sexy lady, one he could look at all night if he had the time. Which he didn’t.
He leaned down and lightly stroked her left breast with the backs of his fingers. She smiled in her sleep, moaned.
His hand covered her breast, squeezed.
“Yes,” she murmured, still asleep.
The bedside telephone rang.
She struggled awake; but before she could open her eyes, the Monk grabbed her arm and roughly rolled her over on her stomach. His knee bore down hard on her lower back as he pressed her face into the pillow. She fought, bucked, and thrashed, but was no match for his size and strength.
The phone rang twice more.
“Jay!” She cried out into the pillow.
He grabbed her by the hair and turned her head until it was facing away from him. He didn’t want her to suffocate. Didn’t want to end it too soon. He needed this beautiful wife of his number one enemy. She was an important player in the game.
“Jay?”
He bent down and whispered in her ear, “No, Mrs. King, not Jay. Jay’s gone to his other woman, your friend. I watched them in the Jacuzzi. Very cozy. It’s all on tape if you’d like to see it.”
The phone continued to ring. She lay very still, her eyes wide open.
The Monk gathered the sheet in his fist and savagely whipped it from her body, flinging it away from the bed. He shifted, easing his knee from her lower back, holding her down with an arm across her shoulders He laid the flat of the knife’s blade against the side of her face. Seeing the blade, she moaned and squeezed her eyes shut.
Using the tip of the knife, he lightly ran it across her neck, then over the smooth flesh of her back and buttocks. She shuddered.
“Do you know where your husband is?” Without waiting for an answer, he went on, “He’s not in the suite. He left you alone. He shouldn’t have done that. Your dear, devoted husband will have to take full responsibility for whatever happens to you tonight. He shouldn’t have relied on others to protect such a fine piece of property.” He felt her stiffen. “You resent that? Resent my referring to you as his property? You, Mrs. King, belong to him. And I can have anything that belongs to him, make no mistake. There is nothing he, you, or anyone can do about it. Do you understand?”
When she failed to respond, he pressed the cool blade against her skin.
“Understand?”
She nodded.
The phone stopped ringing. The silence seemed deafening.
A moment later, it began again.
“How much time do you think we have?” He traced her spine with the blade’s point. “Enough? The door is bolted. It will take a while to get it open. Shall we race against time or shall we wait until a time when we won’t be interrupted? You decide, Mrs. King. Now or later?”
She whispered something.
“What? Did you say something?” He leaned down, placed his ear to her lips.
“Later.”
“Later. Don’t care to be rushed. Good. Good. I agree.” He twisted around and snatched up the receiver in mid-ring. “Yes,” he said evenly.
“Who is this? Where’s my wife?”
“Good evening, Mr. King. Your wife is right here with me. You left her all alone. Shame on you. I hope you’ll be able to live with yourself after such flagrant and gross negligence. Was the swim worth it? Was the hot tub worth it? Was your companion worth it? Wasn’t your wife enough for one night? Because of you, Mr. Kingpin, she’ll be forced to live with a reminder of this night for the rest of her days.”
“Don’t you touch her.”
The Monk carefully placed the receiver close to Dianne King’s mouth. The Monk pressed the tip of the blade into her flesh where the lower back curved at her right buttock. The blade broke the skin. She gasped, made a mewling sound deep in her throat. He took his time making his mark.
When he had finished, he said, “I’ll be back.”
After letting himself out of the suite, he hurried down the hall to Kasey Atwood’s room. He used the master to unlock the door. But the door refused to open. He cursed. She had to be inside already with the deadbolt engaged.
Down the corridor, a phone in the storage room adjacent to the ice machine began to ring. The Monk rushed to the stairway and entered. As the metal door closed with a hiss, he caught a glimpse of Jay King and a man in a tan uniform running full speed toward the suite.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Kasey stepped out of the steamy bathroom. As she pulled the sash tight on her robe she heard footsteps in the corridor thundering past her room, men calling out. She quickly unlocked the door and looked out. At the end of the corridor, J
ay and a man in a tan uniform were charging through the double door of his suite. Two security guards raced by, joining the others.
Kasey grabbed her room key and, in bare feet and robe, followed.
Inside the suite she followed the voices to the master bedroom where she found a chaotic, anger-filled scene. Dianne, stark naked, stood on the bed, erratically pacing back and forth while Jay tried to cover her with the sheet. Dianne screamed and cursed and swung at him, clawing the sheet away.
Jay turned to the three men standing uncertainly just beyond the door. “Wait in the other room.” When he saw Kasey, he said, “Kasey, help me.”
“Help you! What about me?” Dianne screamed. “Who was here to help me when I needed it?”
“Dianne—” Jay grabbed a wrist.
“He was here! Right here in this room. On the bed. His…his hands all over me.” She cupped a breast with one hand and pounded her thigh with the other.
“Dianne, come down off the bed. We want to help. Let us help you.” Jay reached for her again. “Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?”
She reached behind her. Her palm came away smeared with blood. She dropped to her knees, and Kasey saw more blood on the back of her right thigh.
“Jesus,” Jay groaned. He pulled her to him, wrapped his arms around her, and gently lifted her from the bed.
Kasey found a silk kimono at the foot of the bed and handed it to Jay. He released Dianne long enough to force her arms into the sleeves. Then he turned her around to have a look at the wound.
“I’m calling Dr. Hammond,” Jay said.
“I want a drink,” Dianne said harshly. “Goddamnit, somebody get me a drink!”
Kasey hurried from the bedroom to the wet bar in the living room. With shaky fingers she poured a hefty shot of scotch into a tumbler. The three security men stood in a clump by the white sectional and watched her. A cellular phone lying on the couch began to ring.
“Someone get that,” Kasey said on her way back to the bedroom.
Dianne snatched the glass from her hand and downed the scotch in two gulps. She then marched to the bar, kimono flying out behind her, poured another shot, and drank it down.
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