Dark Vengeance

by R. T. Wolfe

  He sensed bile in his throat.

  She turned to him. "Aren't you going to ask me how I got away?"

  "No." Although he felt a burning need to know. "You'll tell me when you're ready."

  The steel gray softened and her shoulders relaxed.

  "You're a strange man, Duncan. We should go," she said.

  * * *

  "A limousine?" Nickie shook her head at the waste. "We're taking a limousine to walk two blocks?" She made light of it as she followed him, confused as to why she had opened up to him. "It will be just as long of a walk to and from the limo as it would to the casino."

  His suit was tailored and hugged his lanky body in all the right places. The dark gray framed a tie she thought matched the color of her eyes.

  "Roll with it, detective. Better to be seen arriving in a limousine."

  "You're the one putting out ten grand tonight."

  It's not like she hadn't ridden in a limousine before. She just hadn't in over fifteen years. Oddly, he asked the driver his first name, asked him to stay put—with a please—and opened the door for her himself. They drove the two blocks and repeated the process in reverse. The tip may have gone unnoticed to most, but she didn't miss it and imagined it was a large one.

  He held out his arm, she joined hers with his and they entered the front doors. It felt uncomfortably comfortable.

  Apparently, all casinos kept these kinds of rooms in the back. Good thing she had ankles of steel. They walked past the black jack tables, the roulette wheels and lines and lines of slot machines.

  "You're gliding, detective," he said in her ear. "The dress suits you."

  She stiffened. Knee jerk. Stupid. She could wear a dress like this one. Damned well. But if she were honest with herself, she would admit it made her feel weak. Made her feel like she was an adolescent.

  The area they headed toward wasn't a separate room as she'd expected. It was partitioned off from the common folk who couldn't afford a 10K buy-in by a half-wall covered in red velvet. A half-dozen, very large tables were scattered inside the partitioned area. Each table had a dozen chairs surrounding it. Duncan's table was easy to spot. It was the only one with players at it. Nine men, mostly white-haired, and one scary looking woman who had seen sun far too much in her days. The rest of the tables sat empty, she assumed due to the tournament next door. The whole set up reminded her of the one in the Seneca Casino, and it gave her goose bumps.

  A man checked a clipboard for Duncan's name before he stood aside, allowing her to enter first. She felt Duncan's hand on the small of her back. The thin material wasn't enough to conceal the long, strong fingers, and it oddly gave her confidence.

  Most, if not all of the men at the table would be respectable people out for a harmless game of cards. They looked, however, much like the men who used to pay big money to rough up captive girls.

  Turning down the offer for a chair, she stood as a few of the other lucky charms did. Purposefully, she showed no emotion when she noticed the antes started at a hundred dollars. Texas Hold-Em. Was there another type of poker they played? She knew how to play, of course. Not the way Duncan played. He could remember which cards had been played from the six deck shuffler, then use his math skills to compute the odds. Acting bored, she cased the place. Same hallways led off the sides. Rooms lined the hallways. No sign of the man ID'ed by the brunette. No sign of men coming or going from the rooms.

  Duncan was winning and fast. She was no poker professional, but she was pretty sure he folded with a pair of aces just to keep from looking like he was cheating. Technically, he was, she supposed.

  A man in a suit with no tie came from the back of one of the hallways and stood in front of a door that was more toward the center of the hall. No one came or went from the room for a solid hour. She thought he looked like secret service. Close to the end of the hour, he simply walked back down the hall where he'd come.

  The men took a ten minute break and she took advantage of it to make her get away.

  "I'm heading out. Talk into your pin when you leave so I don't come back looking like a fool if you're not here."

  "You are a good luck charm, detective. We're doing quite well. I doubt these men will take it lightly. I'll be here when you return." His smooth fingers lifted her chin. His lips touched hers gently.

  "You put on a good show, Duncan. I should hire you."

  He ran the backs of his long fingers down her cheek, making her lids flutter and drop. He leaned to her ear where she could feel his cool breath. "There's no show."

  More than a little dazed, she left him and walked to the hotel to change before following up on her leads from the night before.

  Chapter 16

  The dealer stood stoic as he shuffled cards like a circus act. Edward, the man to Duncan's left, broke the silence. "You lost your arm candy."

  Duncan lifted a corner of his cards along with a single brow. "Beautiful, yes. Candy, unfortunately not." Other than calls for folds, raises and calls, they played the rest of the hand in silence.

  "I've been looking for something along the lines of candy since I arrived yesterday," Duncan added as the next hand was dealt.

  The larger, white-headed Jorge to his right chortled to the redhead behind him. "If you can't find candy in Vegas, boy, you just ain't lookin'. Right, darlin'?" Not so subtly, Jorge elbowed the redhead in the hip.

  "The candy I'm looking for wouldn't be found on an eight-hundred number. Raise two-thousand." Half the group had lost their chips and played a side game at one of the empty tables. Two of the remaining five tossed their cards at Duncan's raise. Edward was one of them. The man on the other side of Edward called Duncan's two thousand and went all in. Duncan held a flush but was willing to sacrifice the money for a chance at information. He threw in his cards and let the remaining two men haggle it out while he took a short walk.

  Edward took the bait and approached him. "The boys in the tournament are falling fast. I would still be there but I had shit for cards."

  "It happens. You're kicking my ass."

  "If you say so. I'm thinking about some candy myself."

  Duncan lifted a brow to him. "I'm hoping to ditch the arm candy ball and chain for something... younger." He felt dirty, suddenly physically dirty.

  "It depends on how young you're thinking, but I might be able to set you up."

  Duncan wasn't sure if he'd kept his poker face or if it changed to the sick feeling running over him. "Young."

  "Well, I don't know of any kiddy stuff, but I could hit you onto some barely teens."

  At that Duncan had to use every ounce of restraint he could muster. "Thank you, Edward. I could... use that." Somehow this man thought forcing himself on barely teens wasn't kiddy stuff. He sensed the bile again in his throat.

  He spent the next half hour playing angry, without thinking. He felt hot, desert air. It made the dusty sand stick to every inch of his skin as the copter spun out of control to the ground. He saw his platoon piled on top of one another in the back of the helicopter, blood coating faces, gear and walls. His commanding officer yelled at him.

  Duncan went from second place, just under Edward, to the next man out in that time.

  He noticed the detective laughing, slightly flirting, with the man in charge of check in. When their eyes met, her face dropped. She waved off the man and walked a beeline to him.

  "Are you out already, darling? Good. I'm bored." She played a convincing high-class spoiled brat.

  He obliged and could hardly offer congratulations to the remaining men before they left.

  She did more than slip her hand through his arm, she carried some of his weight as they headed for the door. When they reached a point where they were out of eyeshot of the game, he bent over and placed his palms on his thighs.

  "Come on, Duncan. We're done here. You were good, really good. I heard everything. Let's get you back to the room." He let her lead him through the rest of the building and out into the air. Stopping, he sucked in a dee
p breath of semi-clean air.

  "Your scars."

  "Duncan, don't. It's okay. Don't."

  "You have the scars because you fought back against men like the one sitting next to me tonight."

  She grabbed his face with two hands. The gray was hypnotic. "Stop it. That's over."

  He saw a haze of red around her beautiful face. Letting his lids droop, he spoke low. "Not yet it's not."

  * * *

  Nickie waited for eight o'clock to roll around to ensure both the lieutenant and the captain would be in. She'd wanted to say goodbye to Duncan, but she could hear him talking on his phone. Instead, she'd left him a note. The bus ride to the station had given her time to think.

  They didn't have her wait long. The captain's office was twice the size of Tanner's. Deluxe cabinetry and shag carpet. She would leave this part out when she reported back home.

  The Las Vegas lieutenant and captain of police were both younger than she'd expected. She knew she would get shit for being there and was prepared for it.

  "You've been in my town, casing my casinos since Wednesday, and you're just letting me know now? Because you want my help?"

  "I understand your frustration, Captain. I was here on a hunch. I didn't want to waste your time on a hunch, sir. I know your time is valuable."

  She supposed he was attractive. Black hair, black eyes, thick. Muscular thick, not heavy really. And he was right, she needed his help. She decided to wait him out, let him chew on her some more to save face. Men.

  "What makes you think this lead is solid?"

  "My informant wore a bug. I heard a conversation between him and another man who said he could set my informant up with some—" She used two fingers to illustrate a direct quotes. "—barely teens. This in conjunction with the girl from our upstate New York casino mishap who gave up Henderson, Nevada, as the next place of destination gives us a good pathway for tonight. You have a high-profile tournament going on. Surely, you have high-profile perps here, too." It wasn't a big lie. The brunette hadn't said anything about Henderson other than the name. "This combined with the preteen who went missing just north of here last week puts it all together."

  The lieutenant and captain eyed each other before continuing. "What exactly are you asking for, detective?"

  "Men. I'd like backup, sir. The girl saved from our casino incident said the norm is nine girls. If he has anything close to that, they'll have four men plus the ringleader. Catch the ringleader and you'll likely mix up the chain of command. Get one of the guards, and you might get them to talk.

  "I think they may have more than one way in and out of the rooms." She explained about the secret service wannabe guarding the door that never opened.

  "Two men, detective. I can spare two men." It was the lieutenant who dropped that bomb.

  "Two men for likely five perps? The guards will be dangerous and armed."

  "Two men without tangible proof. Consider it a gift."

  The waiting game had worked with him before. So, she tried it again. Stalling, she paced and rubbed her hand behind her neck.

  "Three, and don't push me, detective."

  "Thank you, sir. I'll be back just after o-twenty-one hundred to brief them, if that's okay with you." She held out a hand and shook first with the captain, then the lieutenant.

  * * *

  Nickie ate a late dinner with Duncan in the surf and turf restaurant off the hotel lobby. Soft, yellow lighting made the room look more creepy than comfortable. The booth was large and made her wish she wasn't so far from him. And she worried. Worried about Duncan as a person and Duncan as her cover. He'd nearly lost it the night before. It was sheer luck she showed up when she did.

  A little shiver traveled up her spine as she remembered the last time she'd seen him lose his cool.

  "Did you finish at the mayor's?" she asked.

  "I've enough sketches to satisfy him. The rest I can do in my studio in Northridge. He trusts me. I'll need to get home as soon as possible regardless. Although the company is fabulous, it's difficult to be here."

  "Mmm. I get that. You're here for your aunt, but you want to be home for your aunt. I've been in your shoes."

  "With Gloria. She's quite beautiful."

  "Yes. Are you going to be okay tonight? We need you to be okay tonight."

  "Do you trust me, detective?"

  The waiter approached the table and set a small plate of calamari between them.

  Her mind was focused on one thing. He would understand that. Waiting for the waiter to leave, she didn't answer Duncan's question. "You're key to getting us in."

  "I'll get us in. And I want you to know I intend to help you find the girl, if she's there. But my focus is Brusco."

  "I'm not doubting the lean toward Brusco, Duncan. But it's a lean. Circumstantial. Don't close your mind to other possibilities."

  "Brusco killed the dog for Melbourne. Brusco lit up my aunt and uncle's backyard. Brusco had early teen porno on his computer and evidence that he smokes left in his apartment. The ashes in Brie's flowerpots. Brusco was the one who set the backdraft at the Seneca Casino. Brusco is the one I'm looking to find answers about. But, yes. I'll be okay this evening. I wasn't prepared last night. Making the connection with the scars on your back was... alarming. I don't know how you do it."

  He sat across from her in his charcoal tailored suit. His eyes looked jet black in the dim lighting. He'd brushed his hair back with a wet look again as he'd done the evening before. He was night, she thought. Inside and out.

  They would wait in the restaurant before it was time to go. She wasn't hungry.

  "I see Brusco's obsession with Melbourne, but what about with fire? Sure, Melbourne had to have had help setting the fire the night she tried... tried to kill you and your aunt. But why didn't he move around after he took off? There've been no suspicious fires around Liberty in the two decades he's lived there."

  He wasn't budging. "I'll keep that in mind."

  They went over procedure, Duncan's role, where she would be, the Vegas under-covers. The nerves she felt were more than those of a regular raid. She felt Lacey's fear. If she wasn't there tonight, Nickie would go home empty-handed, and the chances of finding her alive would drop to near zero. The thought of that was unacceptable. "I apologize for using you, for using your... gift. But I can't apologize for the help your details have given us. We wouldn't be this far if not for you."

  "It's not just visual." Duncan told her like it was a confession.

  "Excuse me?"

  "It's all sensory, smells... sounds. And photographic memory is not technically the correct term."

  Why hadn't she looked into this more? Assumptions.

  "I am eidetic." He thought of a little boy, the feel of the shaking barrel of a .22 dug deeply into his temple. The stench of whiskey from the woman holding the gun. Every sweaty detail spoken about what she had done to and with Brie's ex in bed. He thought of the grown men the moments after their helicopter was hit by the ground-to-air bazooka. The sounds of their cries, the orders from their officer in command. "Who's hit?" he'd asked. Running on autopilot, Duncan had answered, "I think all of them, sir."

  Thin fingers touched the back of his hand. "Duncan."

  Blinking, he brought his focus to her. "She'll be there, detective."

  "Duncan."

  She was too far away. He couldn't smell the faint breath of lavender or the scent of her shampoo. Without pulling his hand away, he used his other to set a small appetizer plate in front of her.

  "Duncan," she repeated again. He wasn't the only one who analyzed expressions. He almost felt like he did when his aunt was looking right through him.

  Surprisingly, she smiled up at him. "Let's hope so."

  * * *

  Duncan had patronized more casinos than he could count. As varied as the décor could be, most were set up in the same basic format. Black jack tables scattered as you entered, roulette wheels. Farther back were the craps tables and off to the side were the rows
and rows of slot machines. The haze of cigarette smoke made the area slightly foggy.

  He thought the plainclothes Vegas officers were disguised well enough, although he could have picked them out. Two played the slots and one craps. The detective stood next to the one at the crap table, playing good luck charm again. In a blood red, flared jumpsuit, he thought she served as more of a distraction.

  He nearly had the partitioned area meant for the private games in sight when he was spotted. Of course the general manager would be back here, supervising his most wealthy customers. "This could be problematic," he spoke quietly into the lapel. "Let me handle it."

  The gray-haired, stout, balding man kept his eyes on Duncan and walked straight toward him.

  "Mr. Reed, how unfortunate to see you," the man said as he spoke into an electronic devise wrapped around his wrist.

  Duncan noticed the detective heading for him. Damn it. He held up a hand behind the general manager, signaling for her to hold back.

  "Now, now, Gary. It's been a long time."

  "Your exile from our fine establishment didn't have an expiration date."

  Nearly all of the casinos in Vegas were fine establishments, Duncan thought. They were up front regarding what they offered and mostly followed the Vegas laws, as few as there were. He imagined wrapping his hands around the little prick's throat at what he had going on in the back of this one.

  "My exile was from the black jack tables, Gary."

  He saw two jackets coming through the crowd around the craps tables, heading for the two of them.

  Chapter 17

  The GM began to object, but Duncan held up a finger and leaned close to his ear. "And I'm not here for the gambling... necessarily." He pulled back to look in his eyes now. "I have a date with a young woman... girl." Duncan nodded his head toward the back area partitioned off for the high-stakes games. A thigh-high wall of paneled hardwoods was topped with thick stacks of smoothed oak boards separating the area from the rest of the casino.