“I believe I might have.” She came out of the bathroom and ran her hands self-consciously over the skirt covering her hips.
“You’ll knock his socks off.” Rio nodded. They both knew whose socks Rio was talking about. Paul Rivera.
“I wonder if he’ll like me like this.” Victoria’s thoughts escaped amid an insecure tone.
“You’re kidding, right?” Rio laughed.
“Easy for you to say,” Victoria said as if she were on an inadequately lower caliber than Rio. “You’ve got everybody jonesing for you.”
“Oh, please...” Rio rolled her eyes, dismissing Victoria’s opinion. She let her thoughts settle around the girl. They could be friends. “How would you like to help me out with a little joke on Gabe?”
“Gabe Dalton?” Victoria asked in a panic-ridden voice. “I don’t want to get fired.”
Rio’s devilish laughter rippled across the hotel room.
* * *
Nearly half an hour later, Rio assisted Victoria by helping her place her concealed earpiece and mic. She gave her accomplice a quick wink and continued to place her hardware.
“Do you think this dress makes me look fat?” Rio asked, even though she was wearing blue jeans.
“Nah...not at all,” Victoria said as if she really meant it.
Yep, they could definitely be friends.
Victoria’s hardware in place, Rio stepped back and waited a few seconds, giving Dickie time to make the connection.
Feeling confident that he had, she said, “It’s that time of the month...bloating and all.” Rio bottled her urge to laugh. The guys were going to hate this one. This was definite payback for all the practical jokes any of them had ever played on her.
Multiple voices echoed disapproval through their earpieces. Victoria snickered.
“Don’t you just hate it?” Rio chuckled softly, enjoying the prank. “The monthly curse!”
“Yeah—” Victoria squared her shoulders, determined. Had she caught Rio’s retribution bug? Maybe. “And I hate the way that little string...” Victoria’s words trailed off, but they confirmed Rio’s belief. Gabe deserved some reprisal for his nosiness.
“No...no...no!” Strong voices of censure screamed through their earpieces, beseeching them to stop. Now.
Victoria’s laughter joined Rio’s, filling the room.
Rio strolled toward the door. “You want to skydive on all my conversations?” Payback was definitely a bitch. And this one had been a longtime coming. “Careful what you wish for.”
In the hallway, Eddie was waiting by the door. She gave him a quick once-over, wondering what he thought about her prank.
Amusement glistened in his chocolate eyes and he shook his head. Gentle laughter rumbled out.
He followed them to the elevator and silence hung in the air as they rode down to the lobby. Eddie shadowed Rio as she headed for the casino floor and the poker tournament. Victoria went off to find Lester.
Victoria wished, albeit naively, for some good to emerge from Lester. But when he saw her, the look that crossed his face—the same degrading leer as before—dashed her hopes.
Lester’s ogling intensified while he counted the chips. Disgust pooled heavy in her stomach. Man, she wanted to bust this guy.
He handed her the rack and a marker receipt and his lurid gaze tangled around her. She felt trapped. “Seven-thirty,” he said.
She suspected that was the rendezvous time for the final exchange. “Looking forward to it,” she said, then turned and walked away.
If Lester envisioned the outcome of this gig as her begging for a replay often, then he was foolishly assuming he had her licentious attention. Silly fool.
At seven-thirty on the dot Victoria approached Lester’s car and found him eagerly awaiting her arrival.
“Let us know when you give him the cash,” Paul coached her through her earpiece. “Ask him when you should come back for a replay.”
Victoria paused and looked around the exterior of Lester’s car, hoping Paul and the others were close by. She fought the pressure her good senses forced upon her. This time it was different. This time it was just her and Lester. Alone in the car. And that was unsettling.
She compelled her insecurities to sit ringside and eased down into the passenger’s seat, but hesitated to move too close to him. The quicker she got this over, the better. She clamped onto the wad of cash in her purse and shoved it at Lester.
The bills scattered, dropping into his lap.
“Damn, baby,” he said, scooping up the money. “Calm down.” Lester stuffed the loot inside his jacket pocket without counting it. That said a lot. He had other things on his mind. Shit. “Now we can get to the good part.” He twisted around in the bucket seat, faced her and leered at her with hungry, impatient eyes.
For a moment, he didn’t move and she thought he might be reconsidering, until that nasty smile turned up the corners of his mouth.
Lester slid the seat back as far as it would go, leaned back and looked her over. “You wore a skirt. Good thinking.” An eager nod acknowledged his approval.
The thought of where that notion came from disgusted Victoria. She really needed to get this over quickly. Then she remembered Paul’s request. “So when do we do this again?”
Lester scanned her with a lingering, lascivious glare, confirmation of what was on his mind.
“The marker thing,” she said a little harsher than she intended. Maybe that’d avert any illusions his sicko mind was concocting.
“Oh.” Disappointment weighted his shoulders into a slump. “We’ve gotta wait a couple of days. Besides, you’ve made nine hundred bucks. That should tide you over for a day or two.”
Lester’s hand moved to his belt and paused briefly before he started unfastening the buckle.
Fear blanketed Victoria’s entire being. Her heart pounded against her chest and she silently prayed to be rescued. Fast.
A welcomed tapping struck Lester’s window. He jumped. Victoria enjoyed it.
Lester rolled down the window and Paul’s smiling face moved into view. Relief bathed over Victoria, washing away her latent panic.
“Hi,” Paul said to Lester and then glimpsed past him and offered Victoria a comforting glance. “Miss, please step out of the car,” he said, professional-like.
She draped her fingers around the door handle and Lester’s hand slammed against her knee.
“Don’t move, babe.” Lester gave her a quick wink that said he was going to give the local-yokel a piece of his mind. But Victoria knew, when he turned back to confront Paul, Lester would be ill-equipped for the badge awaiting him.
“Sir, step out of the car.” Paul’s tone hardened.
“Look, Mac...me and my girl...she’s just dropping me off at work.” Lester stumbled over his words without a prayer of sounding convincing. Like anybody would believe she was his girl.
“One last time.” Rivera drew his gun. “She needs to step out of the car.”
“Hey, hey, hey!” Lester’s hands flew into the air in a surrendering gesture. “Take it easy. There’s no need to get carried away.”
Chris rose up from between two parked cars a couple of vehicles away where he’d been waiting patiently to ruin Lester’s day. He motioned for Rivera to holster his gun.
Rivera reciprocated and opened the car door.
“Just in case you’re wondering,” Chris said to Lester, “I’m with him.” He pointed at Rivera.
Chris worked his way between Rivera and Lester. “Get the girl out of the car,” he said to Rivera and physically took possession of their perp.
“Hey, who are you guys and what do you want?” Lester managed to gather up a last minute’s reprieve of courage.
Chris’s voice filled with brash laughter. This was the part he especially liked. “My name is Chris Bradley and that is Paul Rivera.” He gestured toward his colleague on the other side of the car. “We’re with the Department of Justice.” He topped it off with a you-are-so-in-trouble
glare at Lester.
The look of defeat spread over Lester’s face. He hung his head and closed his eyes.
Life as he knew it was over for Lester Perzinsky.
CHAPTER 24
BY THE time the stinking cop led Lester inside the back entrance of the Fed’s cop shop, he’d begun to feel like an animal being led inside a cage.
“Am I under arrest?” Lester couldn’t stop the anxiety from overtaking him. The handcuffs strangled his already weakened optimism and they hadn’t even locked him in a cell yet.
“We just want to talk to you, Perzinsky.” The cop coated his voice with pleasantries, but Lester wasn’t biting.
“Then why the cuffs?” he asked. That caged feeling amplified when the cop pushed him inside an interrogation room.
“Well, you were a little resistant when we asked you to accompany us downtown.” The cop gave him a smug smile, and that pissed Lester off.
“I know my rights,” he said. “I want to speak to an attorney.”
“Sure.” The cop’s smile chilled. “Anyone in particular?”
Who the hell was he supposed to call? He didn’t have a lawyer. He’d never needed one. He’d better call Meredith.
“My phone call...?” Lester summoned his last bit of confidence. “I’m entitled to a phone call, right? I want to make it now.”
He’d only half-expected the guy to agree and was surprised when the cop moved a telephone sitting at the opposite end of the table toward him. Lester raised his cuffed hands. How was he supposed to make a call like this? Asshole.
The cop grabbed the receiver and offered it to Lester. “Want me to dial the number for you?” he asked. “What is it?”
“No!” Lester yanked at the phone. Resentment fumed from him as he pecked at the telephone’s buttons with his constrained forefinger.
Lester hesitated, trying to gain some control before raising the receiver to his ear. The phone rang several times and he forgot about his own idiosyncrasies and quietly urged Meredith to hurry up and answer the phone.
When he finally heard her voice on the other end of the line it soothed his agony—for about a nanosecond. “Meredith,” he said, “Find a lawyer and get down here—”
“What?” Her voice shrilled across the wire. “Where are you?”
Lester looked at the cop and covered the mouthpiece. “Hey,” he said, just above his breath, “We’re at the Federal building, right?”
“Yeah.” The cop chuckled.
“Lester...” Meredith’s tone dragged him back to reality.
He saw the chance to get in a jab at the jerk responsible for this mess. “I’m being detained by some wannabe cops.”
“The police?” she asked. “Why?”
Lester looked at his detainer again. “Why am I here?”
Chris Bradley motioned the phone away from Lester, who was determined to play dumb till the end. Chris shook his head and placed the receiver against his ear. “This is Chris Bradley with the Department of Justice,” he said in a professional and friendly manner. “I’ll try to answer your questions as best I can.”
“Well, Chris Bradley...what do you want with my Lester?” an inquiring feminine voice poured over the phone.
“Miss...” he let the greeting trail off, waiting for her name.
“Vincent,” she said distinctly. “My name is Meredith Vincent.”
“Well, Miss Vincent.” He hesitated, just to let her stew on the notion of why he’d detained her man. “We found your Lester with a woman...in an illicit situation in his car...in the parking lot at the Golden Sunset.”
“A woman? In his car?” Anger was quickly overriding the suspicion in her voice. “What exactly are you getting at?”
“I think you know what I’m getting at.”
“Would you be so kind as to give Lester a message for me?” she said in a voice that strove to convey pride.
“Certainly.”
“Tell him that I said—” She cleared her throat. “Go to hell!”
The phone line went dead.
Chris looked at Lester. “She hung up.” He dropped the phone down onto its base. Apparently, Lester’s luck had run its course.
Lester’s anger fumed so effectively, Chris could almost see the smoke gusting from his ears. “Hey, I want another phone call.”
Chris ripped the phone cord from the wall and grabbed the device. “Sorry.” He opened the door. “One per customer, please.”
The door closed between Lester and the cop.
What the hell did they want with him? Did they know about his less than legal activities? Well, if they did—goody for them. There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d admit to any of it.
Good luck, coppers.
* * *
Victoria Simmons scanned the detectives sitting around the table in the conference room on the second floor. As a Records Clerk she’d never attended anything like this and the sheer magnitude of the impact worried her. Rio, Eddie, Chris, and Paul reveled in their excitement over nabbing Lester. She’d heard Paul say, more than once, this was the break they needed in an otherwise impenetrable case.
Blake Switzer was the only one refraining from taking part in the revelry. And Victoria had to wonder why.
Gabe Dalton entered the room and threw a file down on the table. That drew everybody’s attention. Especially Victoria’s. He rested his hands on his hips and glared at each of them, one at a time, lingering a little longer on Rio, until finally he claimed the chair at the head of the table.
“First.” He fiddled with the file, eyes glued to it. “Very funny chat you and Simmons had, Laraquette.” He slowly lifted his gaze to meet Rio’s. “Don’t do it again.” He initiated a stare down, but his attempt wasn’t in the same league. Hers was much more lethal, born from spite. Gabe the cop’s couldn’t compete.
“When do I get my list?” She eyed him with cool confidence.
“List?” He maintained the eye contact, probably trying to figure out what the list was about. Victoria was part of the charade, and even she didn’t understand it. Not entirely.
“The things I can and cannot talk about now.” The resilience in her eyes railroaded his confidence and chased it out the door.
“Damn it, Laraquette,” Gabe bellowed. “Don’t make me call your father!” That must be his last line of defense.
Victoria snickered. This was just like high school and they were in trouble with the principal.
“You find something amusing, Simmons?” Gabe turned his gruff totalitarian temperament on her. Like she’d buy it.
“Well, actually...yes, I do.” She didn’t buy into Gabe’s tyranny, and the confidence pouring out in her voice was proof.
All eyes widened and zeroed in on Victoria.
“Hey...” she said, specifically to Paul. After all, his opinion was the only one that mattered. “He threatened to call her father. That’s so high school.”
That set everybody’s laughter in motion. Even that creepy Switzer guy. She wasn’t one to judge people by their appearance, but he gave her the willies.
“Simmons.” Gabe’s fierceness snatched her attention, but his tone mellowed quickly. “We are indebted to you for your assistance. Your testimony will certainly ensure a conviction on Perzinsky.”
“I’m glad I could help,” she said with a hint of smugness.
“Laraquette, LaCall.” Gabe turned to Rio and Eddie. “How’s the poker tournament investigation progressing?”
“Well, quite frankly,” Rio admitted with a measure of hesitance, “we think the responsible party is on to us.”
Gabe’s shoulders drooped, right along with his expression. “How so?” His heavy sigh suggested this was the worst thing that could happen.
Victoria tended to agree. Even she could surmise that if the doer was onto them, the investigation was pretty much shot.
“We’ve been winning,” Eddie spoke up. “All the time.”
“Since when?” Gabe asked.
“Since our ingeni
ous plot to switch places.” Rio glanced at Eddie and they exchanged a quick smile.
Victoria caught their fleeting glimpses and studied them for a moment. Something was definitely going on between these two, even if they weren’t aware of it. She wondered what was stopping them from realizing their feelings.
“We have Perzinsky in custody,” Gabe said. “Any chance he can shed some light on things?”
“Chances are getting better all the time.” Rivera slid his file toward Gabe. “Perzinsky purchased a house up in Skyland.”
Skyland? The place where James Laraquette lived? The mere mention of the exclusive community sent Gabe’s senses into a tailspin. How the hell had Perzinsky managed to score a place like that on a pit boss’s salary? Even the scam he had going on at the casino would be hard pressed to fund that expenditure.
Lester Perzinsky knew more than he was telling. Gabe believed that wholeheartedly. “Lean on him. Hard.” His voice toughened. “If you have trouble, introduce him to Laraquette and LaCall.”
A smile spread across Rio’s face, which didn’t surprise Gabe. Knowing her, she couldn’t wait to get her hands on Perzinsky. The prospect didn’t bother Gabe, he was done playing nice.
He turned to the lead man on Rio’s stalking case, knowing it’d be useless if LaCall was right about him. Don’t go passing judgment. There wasn’t a shred of evidence to implicate his chief investigator.
“Switzer...” Gabe said. “Do you have anything new to add?”
“Regrettably, sir, no.”
A grumbling sigh rumbled from Rio.
Switzer’s response and the fact that he refused to look anyone in the eye told Eddie all he needed to know. The guy was either ashamed of his inadequacies or feeling guilty about something.
Rio turned to Eddie with fear shading her eyes, making them appear darker than usual.
“Don’t worry,” he said loud enough for everyone, including Switzer, to hear. “I have no intentions of letting anything happen to you.”
Eddie left Rio with a wink and a smile before steering his attention in Switzer’s direction. On the trip over his mood turned dark and ominous before his sights landed on the man he was so sure had something to hide.
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