So Damn Lucky (Lucky O'Toole Vegas Adventure Book 3)

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So Damn Lucky (Lucky O'Toole Vegas Adventure Book 3) Page 32

by Deborah Coonts


  “No!” Carl shook his head, an exaggerated motion like a wild animal driven mad by the unrelenting bites of insects. “The Devil has come. He must be killed.” Pain and madness flashed across his face. “He killed her….sister.”

  Pressing the heel of one hand to his temple, he squeezed his eyes shut. “Voices… anger.” Carl, let the muzzle of the gun drift down.

  “It’s okay, Carl. We’ll get the Devil.” I sensed Marik easing out of the shadows as I walked toward Carl, keeping his attention. I brushed shoulders with Jeremy, who hadn’t taken his eyes off Carl.

  “Careful,” he whispered. “He’s having a bad day.”

  Quick as a snake, Danilov grabbed my arm, his fingers sinking into my flesh. “The Devil…”

  “No!” Carl shouted.

  I saw him raise the gun.

  Throwing myself at Jeremy, I pushed with every ounce of strength I had. “Carl, no!”

  The report of the gun hammered my ears. A sharp sting across my shoulder. Thrown backwards, I fell. My hand flew to my shoulder as I shouted again, “Carl, No!” A warm trickle of blood oozed between my fingers, as I rolled then pulled my feet underneath me. “He’s not the Devil. There is another.”

  Carl lowered the gun.

  A flash of black, Marik darted around me. He grabbed the gun, easing it from Carl’s fingers. “It’s over, Carl. Everything’s okay.”

  Carl’s shoulders sagged as he let Marik have the rifle.

  Danilov moved.

  “Stay down,” I barked at him. Slowly I stood. Glancing at Jeremy, my heart froze.

  A red splash of blood soaked his shirt.

  “No!” I dropped to my knees beside him.

  He groaned and his eyes fluttered open when I yanked the tail of his shirt from his pants and lifted the thin fabric..

  An angry red gouge sliced his side. Oozing blood it looked painful as hell, but not life-threatening. My world stopped spinning and I could breathe again.

  Tearing his shirt, I wadded the cloth and pressed it over the wound.

  He grimaced, then grinned. “It would’ve been a lot worse if you hadn’t gotten a severe case of heroics. Stupid of you.”

  “What can I say? Adrenaline always short-circuits that whole common sense thing.”

  He squeezed my shoulder. “Thanks.”

  “No worries. If I’d let anything happen to you, Miss P would make my life miserable. As it is, she’s going to have her pound of flesh when she gets a gander at you.”

  Brushing the hair out of my yes, I straightened and looked around. The rifle lay in a puddle where Carl had stood. “Marik?”

  No answer.

  We were alone. Terrific.

  The three stooges had disappeared.

  ***

  His arm around my shoulders, Jeremy and I had made it halfway back to the entrance when we heard the sound of running feet. Outlined against the light streaming in through the opening to the storm drain, figures hurried toward us.

  “Lucky?” Romeo shouted, his voice filled with worry, echoing in the small space.

  “Here.”

  The young detective appeared in front of me. “Let me help you.” He shouldered Jeremy who appeared to be walking a bit easier now, having made his peace with the pain. Romeo’s men closed in around us.

  “Take us to the Babylon, would you?” I asked the young detective. “ We need to hurry. I’ll fill you in on the way.”

  ***

  “This is not my day,,” I muttered, as we approached the Babylon and I caught sight of the traffic jam. The circus had started.

  Romeo, silent as he digested my story, now shot me a grin. He beeped his siren and flashed his lights as he barked orders into his bullhorn. As the crowd parted he asked, “So give me the bottom line. Who are we looking for in all this mess?”

  “I can’t be certain, but I’d say the Devil has two X chromosomes.”

  His eyes widened as he shot a startled glance my way. “Molly Rain?”

  “Call it a strong hunch, but she was looking for evidence concerning the murder in Danilov’s apartment. I have a feeling Dimitri or one of the others told her about the papers in Danilov’s safe, then she panicked when the staged burglary occurred, as they hoped she would.”

  “Papers? Danilov told us only some cheap jewelry had been taken.”

  “Didn’t you sort of wonder why anyone would keep the cheap stuff in the safe?” I asked the young Columbo.

  “They could’ve had significance in the whole hypnotism thing—the talismans.”

  “I thought of that, too. But when Molly broke into my apartment and mentioned something about papers being stolen…well, it didn’t have significance at the time, but later, when I started thinking they all might be in on something…”

  “ She had to suspect she was being baited,” Romeo said, putting a few puzzle pieces in their proper places.

  “Probably, but she couldn’t risk any evidence being out in the open—even though the odds of the Air Force cooperating with any investigation were miniscule. But now with the whole world watching, they forced the Air Force’s hand. I know things have changed with more openness under the Freedom of Information Act, but not enough time has passed for info about all of this to be disseminated yet—if it would ever be.”

  “So this whole thing was a trap?”

  “Revenge, one of the most primal motives.”

  “So which one of them set the trap?” Romeo asked, as he inched the squad car to the curb in front of the hotel.

  “They all did.”

  “Danilov, Zewicki, Mortimer?” he asked, his eyes showing his disbelief.

  “I don’t know about Mortimer, yet, but Danilov, Zewicki, Crazy Carl, Bart Griffin, Marik Kovalenko, and Jenkins…especially Jenkins… were all in it up to their collective asses.”

  “Cool. Like Mission Impossible.”

  “Not cool,” I growled, as I let the rage inside me bubble to the surface. “Those clowns have turned a killer loose in my hotel on Halloween.” I cast my arm toward the teeming lobby and the lines of costumed revelers waiting to get inside.

  “Shit,” Romeo, The Master of Understatement, announced.

  ***

  Ignoring his pain, Jeremy matched Romeo and me stride-for-stride as we maneuvered through the throng packing the lobby. All shapes and sizes of people in varying degrees of inebriation slowed our progress considerably. Dressed in various stages of undress, some even dispensing with clothing altogether—their costumes painted on bare skin—the early partiers’ infectious revelry did nothing to improve my mood. Even the excited voices echoing off the marble walls couldn’t conjure the hint of a smile. Apparently I was immune to fun…a new low.

  “Jerry,” I barked into my push-to-talk. “We got major problems.”

  “I’m all ears,” came his reply.

  I gave it to him short and sweet, as I dodged a couple, their skin painted in tiger stripes, tails attached to their ample backsides. Harry and Mavis. I should have known. “Excuse me,” I said as I eased around them.

  “Hey, there,” Harry said. He looked like a greeter at a nudist camp on party night.

  Afraid of the letting my gaze drift lower, I kept my eyes on his and concentrated on keeping them there.

  “Looks like you need a costume,” Mavis said, eyeing me. “We have some leftover paint, if you want it.”

  “They won’t let you in dressed like that,” Harry added.

  “Thanks, I’ll take my chances,” I said as I eased by.

  “Who was that,” Jerry asked in my ear.

  “Sex-swing couple.” I launched again into the crowd, Romeo and Jeremy on my heels. “Use every resource you have. Let me know when you locate any one of the players in this little game of cat and mouse, okay?”

  “Wilco. Where will you be?”

  “Backstage looking for a magician. He’s given me the slip once already. And if it’s one thing I hate, it’s vanishing magicians.”

  ***

  After I
flashed my badge, the security guard waved us through the main entrance to the Arena, the Babylon’s venue for prizefights, rock concerts, hockey games and, tonight, a Houdini séance—assuming Marik Kovalenko was a handshake kind of guy.

  A circular cavern, the arena held twenty thousand when packed to capacity. The entrances were all on the upper levels, with rows of seats periodically separated by flights of stairs cascading down to the main stage on the floor. Like a net waiting to fall and hold us all hostage, a latticework of catwalks festooned with lights was suspended above the seating areas. A rectangular object, cloaked in a dark cloth, hung from one of the catwalks, cables angling down, connecting it to the stage—presumably a prop for tonight’s show. A few klieg lights focused on the stage—a single bare platform in the center of the arena floor—bathing it in stark light. Away from the stage, the light faded quickly, leaving the rest of the Arena shrouded in shadow punctuated by dim lights showing the stairs and the exits—like the trail of emergency lights in an airplane after an accident.

  Racing down one set of stairs, the two men still dogging my heels, I quickly scanned the vast space. Once again, I keyed my walkie-talkie. “Jerry, we need a sweep of the Arena before we let anyone in here.”

  “My guys are on their way.”

  I arrived at the stage out of breath and out of patience.

  “Let’s split up,” Jeremy suggested as he stopped at my shoulder. Bending over, he clutched his side. The red stain had grown.

  “Jerry,” I wheezed into my Nextel. “We needed the Doc on the stage in the Arena.” Jeremy straightened, his eyes locked on mine, his mouth set in a firm line as he shook his head. “And bring two of your guys to hold our patient down,” I continued. My stare never wavered from Jeremy’s as I said to him, “You’re in no shape to take down a killer. You could put all of us in danger. ” Not that we weren’t already, but I hoped he ignored that little fact.

  “She’s right,” Dane said, as he appeared at Jeremy’s shoulder.

  I hadn’t noticed him following us. “Where’d you come from?”

  “When it comes to trouble, I’m like a bloodhound given a scent. What can I say, it’s a knack,” he said, as he clamped a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of him.”

  Jeremy, his face ashen, pain etching creases around his mouth and darkening his golden eyes, didn’t put up a fight. Instead, he sagged into the nearest seat. One less worry.

  If my hunch was right and Molly Rain was our killer, where would she be…and who would she be after? Danilov had said Carl was the key. And he’d said they were all connected. Therefore, if the woman who had been murdered was indeed Joy, Dimitiri’s wife and Carl’s sister, and assuming off-the-chart psychic abilities ran in families, then Carl could indeed hold the key to his sister’s murder.

  A bit of a stretch for us skeptics, but for believers…

  And, last time I saw him, Carl was with Marik.

  Clutching at straws, I grabbed for the only one I had. “Romeo, come with me.” I started for the tunnel leading to the dressing rooms and backstage areas. Turning to Dane, I said, “I’m looking for Marik Kovalenko. Do you know him?” At his nod, I continued, “If you see him, I don’t care if you have to shoot him, but don’t let him get away.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And watch your backside if Molly Rain sticks her head in here. Despite her mild-mannered exterior, apparently she’s capable of murder.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Romeo and I took off at a run.

  ***

  In stark contrast to the Arena seating area, backstage was a sea of activity. Costumed bodies darted like heat-seeking missiles, their sequined costumes sparkled like fireworks on the Fourth of July. I felt as if I’d been dropped into the middle of a circus. Right in front of my very eyes, an elephant docilely munched hay, as if this chaos was business as usual, which for him it probably was.

  I snagged a scantily clad performer by the arm. He turned heavily made-up eyes to me as I said, “Marik?”

  Giving me the once-over, the man nodded toward a screened area off to the side. “Over there. But be careful, before a show his bite is worse than his bark.”

  As Romeo and I pushed through the bodies, I could feel the excitement—adrenaline shimmered off the performers, intoxicating, exhilarating. Teddie’s drug of choice.

  I hadn’t stood a chance.

  Being a head taller than almost everyone around me, I scanned over the crowd. Finally, I caught a glimpse of Marik, his face closed into a scowl, as he barked at a young woman I remembered seeing at his warehouse.

  Like a bullet from a rifle, I launched myself toward him, performers scattering in my wake. He didn’t notice me until I arrived in front of him.

  “Your ass is mine,” I snarled. “How dare you bring all of this to my hotel?”

  Marik dragged me behind the screen, out of sight and earshot. He glared at Romeo who followed, but said nothing to the detective. I chose not to waste time and the drop of good humor I had left on trivialities such as introductions.

  “Would you calm down?” Marik hissed. “It’s all under control.”

  “Under control?” Despite my best efforts, my voice held a tinge of panic. I grabbed the magician’s arm in a vise-like grip. He winced, which made me feel better. “Carl is on the verge of a meltdown. And, thanks to you and your little band of killer catchers, he may cross to the dark side and never come back.”

  Guilt flashed across Marik’s features probably saving him from a slow and painful death when all of this was over.

  “How could you?” My control tenuous, I vibrated with anger.

  “He’s more stable than you think,” Marik said.

  Whether he was trying to convince me or himself was anybody’s guess, but now was not the time to argue. “Where is he?”

  “Safe.” I started to argue but Marik put a finger to his lips.

  He had a point. In the Babyon, even the walls had ears. “You had Molly Rain pegged from the beginning, didn’t you?”

  Marik’s eyes widened in surprise as he nodded. “Yeah, but we got shut down by the brass.”

  “Nobody was willing to risk a Black program over one casualty,” I said, suddenly sure.

  Anger flashed in his dark eyes. “The whole thing was—how do you say it?”

  “Swept under the rug?” Romeo suggested.

  “Right. It was like Joy had never existed. She simply vanished.” Gently, he eased his arm from my grasp, then rubbed the spot where I had squeezed.

  “And Dimitri, our vanishing magician? He’s been watching me, hasn’t he?”

  “We had it all planned until you showed up asking Carl questions. None of us had any idea you knew him.”

  “I could have led the killer to your bait, so you kept an eye on me,” I explained, not needing Marik’s confirmation. “So how do we find Molly?”

  “Look no further,” purred a female voice. A voice I knew.

  Molly Rain.

  The three of us whirled at the voice and found ourselves staring into the business end of a silenced Glock.

  The baited trap had sprung, but not quite as Marik and Company had planned. If they had just bothered to ask, I could’ve told them that was almost always the case. But there was a better chance of snow in July than anyone listening to me, even though I could teach the course in things-that-can-go-wrong.

  Molly, her hands holding the weapon steady at the center of Marik’s chest, calmly glared at us. Clearly in control and enjoying it, she gave a smile that froze my heart. “Give me Carl, Marik. And the papers.”

  The magician took a step toward her. Lowering the muzzle, calmly, she squeezed the trigger.

  A popping sound and Marik staggered back, clutching his thigh.

  “I wouldn’t,” Molly said, as she again raised the gun to point at his chest.

  I eased toward Marik, but he shook his head. Moving his hand, he straightened. The bullet had grazed his leg, nothing more. A tic worked in his
jaw. Murder lurked in his eyes.

  “I won’t be so generous next time,’ Molly said as she took dead aim at his heart. “Give me Carl. Now.”

  “I’m the only one here who knows where he is,” Marik said, his voice saber-sharp.

  “Have it your way.” Molly swung the gun to my heart. “Tell me or I kill your friend.”

  Before I could react, Romeo shouted, “No!” as he lunged for Molly.

  Taken by surprise, she whirled but was a fraction of a second too late.

  The bullet caught Romeo in the shoulder, spinning him around. He fell at her feet.

  Marik and I dove for Molly.

  Quick as a cat, the woman swung the handgun at Marik’s head.

  Metal connected with tissue. I cringed at the meaty thunk. Grabbing for her, my hands closed around cloth as she fell back, twisting away from me. Staggering, I tried to follow. Too quick, she pulled out of my grasp. Backing away, the gun pointed at me, she disappeared through the curtain.

  I keyed my Nextel as I dropped to my knees at Romeo’s side. When he blinked at me, I started shouting. “Security, Officer down staging area of the Arena. Call paramedics and Metro. Shooter is female, five foot four, dark, curly hair, blue eyes, armed and dangerous.”

  “Get her,” Romeo groaned. “I’m okay.”

  Launching to my feet, I bolted. Pushing through the curtain, I shouted, “Did anyone notice a young woman?” I gave a brief description.

  One young man pointed toward the tunnel leading to the Arena. “That way.”

  One mistake was all I needed, and Molly Rain had just made it.

  ***

  Pounding through the tunnel, I skidded to a stop next to the stage. Scanning the Arena, I let my eyes adjust to the relative darkness. Pairs of security personnel had fanned out across the vast space, sweeping it in grids.

  Where are you, Molly? I know you’re here.

  Forcing my pulse to slow, my breathing back under control, I focused on a section at a time, spending a few seconds on each, trying to catch movement. Half of the Arena scanned, and on the verge of panicking, I saw her.

 

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