Surrender to Sin

by Michelle St. James

  Of my town.

  Max left the words unsaid. His beef with Jason was about as personal as it could get, but letting that cloud his judgement would only put him at a disadvantage.

  Jason himself had taught Max that.

  “For now,” Nico said.

  “They’ll keep working the case for awhile,” Farrell said. “Try to get some of DeLuca’s men to tie his operation to Jason, keep digging into the forensics, but we can’t hold our breath on any kind of charge. They won’t bring a case unless they think it’s more or less airtight.”

  Max sighed. “Fuck.”

  “There is another way,” Nico said.

  Max turned to face him. “I’m listening."

  “We take him out ourselves, get him off the game board once and for all.”

  “I’m all for it,” Farrell said. “The asshole’s like a bad penny.”

  “What does that entail?” Max asked.

  The fact that he didn’t hesitate to ask the question didn’t bother him in the slightest. Max was a trained soldier — a trained killer. He was programmed to protect the things he loved, and he loved Abby beyond measure.

  As long as Jason was alive, she would never be safe. It was something Max had known when Jason disappeared after the shooting, when Abby mourned the loss of her house, when she woke up with a start, a sheen of cold sweat on her brow as she dreamt about her escape from the smoke-filled room on the second floor.

  He’d known then he’d kill Jason if he got the chance — and Bruce Frazier too — if only so Abby could sleep at night.

  “We have to get to him first,” Farrell said. “It’s not impossible, but it is easier said than done.”

  “Because of Frazier and the rest of Jason’s security?” Max shook his head. “We can take them. It’ll be noisy, but Jason’s house isn’t in the city. We can afford to make a little noise if we work quickly.”

  “He hasn’t gone back to the house,” Nico said. “Not yet anyway.”

  “He’s still at the hotel?” Max asked.

  It was one thing to spend a couple nights there when he first got back to town, but it had been over a week since Jason had returned to Vegas.

  Farrell leaned back in the lounge chair and closed his eyes. “Hasn’t left once, according to our sources. Installed additional cameras in the hall leading to the suite too.”

  Max cursed. It was smart, even if it did make obvious the level of Jason’s fear. To get to him in the Tangier’s Presidential suite, they would have to get past the security cameras in the casino, obtain access to the suite’s private elevator, get past all of Jason’s guards without setting off a noisy firefight, and according to Farrell, get past new cameras as well.

  “That complicates things,” Max admitted.

  “Complicated doesn’t mean impossible,” Nico said.

  Max let his mind go blank, surrendering his preconceived notions long enough to let solutions present themselves.

  “I can probably get ahold of the building plans for the Tangier,” Max said.

  “That’s a start,” Nico said.

  “Too bad Abby quit her job,” Farrell said.

  Max looked at him. “No, it’s not.”

  Max had been furious about Abby’s exposure during the weeks she’d kept her job to inform on Jason. The information she’d provided had been invaluable, but Max had been sick with worry all day, every day.

  Farrell shrugged. “Just an observation.”

  “An idiotic one,” Max said.

  “Let’s think about how to get some surveillance equipment in the suite and the executive offices,” Nico said, breaking into the dispute. “That will help us identify any vulnerabilities in his security and routine.”

  “I’ll give it some thought,” Max said.

  “Good,” Nico said. “I have to return to Rome for a few days. I’ll be back next week and we can figure out the details.”

  “I’m flying out tonight, but I can get back here if you need me,” Farrell said.

  “Thanks.” Max had to choke it out, still pissed at Farrell for making light of the risk Abby had taken to help them.

  “Did you talk to Rodriguez?” Nico asked.

  “We’re giving it a try,” Max said.

  “Glad to hear it.” Nico’s gaze had returned to the pool area. Max could almost feel the shift in his energy, his attention already moving onto the next problem in the Syndicate’s vast network of operations. “I’d suggest bringing him in on this now.”

  Max nodded. Nico was one of the leaders of the Syndicate, but he’d given Max a wide berth on decisions involving Vegas. This was no different. Nico wouldn’t stop Max from freezing Carlos out — but Max would live and die by the decisions he made.

  It was a testament to the respect he had for Nico that he was willing to take even those suggestions that ran counter to his own preferences. Nico had been born and bred in the business when his father ran the New York territory.

  He knew what he was doing.

  Max stood. “I’ll keep you posted.”

  Nico looked up at him. “Assume you have eyes and ears on you at all times. We have friends with the Feds, but even the best of friendships sometimes end.”

  “Safe travels,” Max said to him.

  He ignored Farrell as he turned away, Nico’s words echoing in his mind.

  Even the best of friendships sometimes end.

  He knew what Nico was saying: the Feds may have him tailed or tapped. He should take precautions to ensure nothing could come back to haunt him.

  It wasn’t surprising, but the warning had new weight. Surrounded by a small army, and with paparazzi camped outside the Tangier, Jason was more high-profile than ever — and that meant any attempt to eliminate him had the potential to be high-profile as well.

  Max put on his sunglasses as he started across the pool area. From now on, every step he took was a possible landmine — for him and for Abby.

  Nine

  Abby got out of her car and headed into the park. She caught glimpses of the playground through the trees, heard the voices of children calling out to each other, their laughter traveling through the air like a soft breeze.

  It was her favorite time of year in Vegas — the sun still shining but without the searing heat of summer, the sky a deep shade of blue unique to autumn — but her enjoyment of the weather was tinged with guilt.

  She shouldn’t be here.

  She followed the path toward the playground, scanning the area when it came into view. She spotted the woman right away, sitting on a bench near enough to the playground that the children would be easy to supervise without allowing them to overhear adult conversation.

  The woman’s gray hair was still stylishly sleek, her everyday business attire traded for weekend-friendly leggings, a long tunic, and sandals.

  Abby continued toward the bench, lifting a hand in greeting as she got closer.

  The woman stood, a smile breaking out across her face as Abby approached. She wrapped Abby in a hug with a sigh of relief.

  “I’m so happy to see you, my dear. I’ve been worried.”

  Abby pulled back. “Thanks for coming, Rosie.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Rosie said. “I was so happy to hear from you. I wanted to reach out, but I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate.”

  Abby nodded in understanding. Rosie had stayed on at the Tangier after Jason disappeared, continuing in her capacity as executive assistant to a variety of high-level executives who flew in from New York to oversee the Tangier’s operations in Jason’s absence.

  “I understand,” Abby said. “I thought the same thing.”

  Rosie looked at her. “To be honest, I’m more surprised to hear from you now than I would have been over the summer.”

  Abby nodded. Rosie had been Jason’s executive assistant for years, and while some people might be tempted to downplay her role as nothing more than a glorified secretary, Abby knew better. Rosie probably knew more about the details of Jason’s life
— both personal and professional — than Abby had, and Abby and Jason had been friends since they were kids.

  It was true that Rosie handled Jason’s phone calls and business email, that she scheduled his meetings and replied to invitations on his behalf, but she also made reservations for his dates, chose gifts from him at Christmas, dealt with maintenance and repair companies for Jason’s house.

  That kind of loyalty died hard.

  Abby looked out at the playground. “Which one is yours?”

  Rosie’s eyes locked onto a little girl on the swings. “The one in the red T-shirt. Hannah. She’s keeping me on my toes.”

  Abby smiled as she looked at the little girl named Hannah, pumping her legs with an expression of concentration that made it clear she was engaged in serious business. Her dark hair was pulled into pigtails that flew behind her like curly banners as she climbed higher.

  “She must get it from her grandmother,” Abby said.

  Rosie laughed. “I won’t deny it. I’m always eager to take her when Elizabeth wants a break, but by the end of it, I’m ready for a stiff shot of tequila.”

  Elizabeth was Rosie’s daughter. She lived in Phoenix, but two or three times a year she and her husband went out of town, leaving their daughter with Rosie for a long weekend.

  “She looks like fun though,” Abby said.

  Rosie nodded, then turned to look at her. “How are you? Have you found another job?”

  “I haven’t really been looking.” Abby sighed. “I need to regroup, figure out what I really want next.”

  Rosie patted her hand on the bench. “You should do that, Abby. You’ve worked hard. What’s it all for if not to buy the freedom to regroup now and then?”

  “Exactly,” Abby said.

  “It’s so great to see you,” Rosie said, “and I’d be more than happy to just sit and chat, but I have a feeling that’s not why you called.”

  Abby laughed and shook her head. “They didn’t call you The Eagle for nothing.”

  Rosie had been legendary in the office for her ability to discern someone’s motives in trying to get close to Jason.

  Rosie shrugged. “What can I say?”

  “You’re right,” Abby said. “I should have called sooner just to catch up. Now that Jason’s back, I guess I’m wondering how he is, how things are at work.”

  Rosie looked surprised. “You haven’t been in touch with him?”

  Abby shook her head. “I haven’t spoken to him at all since he disappeared.”

  Rosie returned her granddaughter’s wave from the swings before turning back to Abby. “Can I ask why? I thought you were close, but in those last few weeks…”

  Her voice trailed off and Abby thought back to the weeks before the shooting at the Tangier. Jason had welcomed her back to the job after her sabbatical in Mexico, but nothing had been the same.

  It had been more than Bruce Frazier, the mercenary Jason had hired to be his private bodyguard, the one Max suspected had ultimately set fire to Abby’s house.

  It had been Jason himself.

  He’d always been introverted in everything but business, socially challenged unless there was a merger or takeover involved. But after returning from Mexico she’d found him to be brooding, his drive and ambition turned inward into a dark and twisted anger that seethed beneath the surface.

  “Things were weird,” Abby admitted, returning her attention to Rosie.

  “I’m not looking to pry,” Rosie said. “I just don’t want to be disloyal.”

  “I understand,” Abby said. “This whole situation is so complicated. I’m not asking for anything you don’t want to tell me.”

  She hadn’t even told Max she was meeting Rosie. He wouldn’t have tried to stop her, but he would have been so worried she would have considered canceling anyway. She’d worried him enough, and he had more than enough on his plate now that Jason was back in town.

  “My loyalty is always to Jason,” Rosie said. “That’s how it has to be in my job. You know that.”

  Abby looked out over the playground, envying the children their lighthearted happiness. Had she ever been lighthearted? She couldn’t remember.

  “I do.”

  “But let’s say there were certain considerations that mean talking to you might be in Jason’s best interest,” Rosie continued. “Then it would make sense, part of my job looking out for him."

  Abby looked at her. “I can see an argument to be made for it, although I feel it’s only fair to tell you that the likelihood of my being able to help Jason — in any situation — is pretty slim.”

  Rosie reached out to squeeze her hand. “You’re his only friend, dear.”

  She fought a surge of anger. She wasn’t Jason’s friend, and he wasn’t hers. Not anymore. He’d tried to kill her. Worse, he’d almost taken Max from her.

  But that was all information Rosie didn’t need.

  “We were close once,” Abby said.

  Rosie nodded, her gaze moving across the playground until it landed on her granddaughter, now working her way across the monkey bars.

  “I don’t want to worry you,” Rosie said, “but it’s not good.”

  “How so?” she asked.

  “That guard from last spring — ”

  “Frazier?” Abby had to force her voice steady around the name, around the memory of his empty eyes, studying her through the glass wall of her office, following her down the hall as she made her way to the lobby.

  Around the knowledge that he’d been in her house while she was painting the upstairs bedroom.

  Rosie nodded. “But Frazier’s not alone anymore, and he doesn’t just have one sidekick like the one he had right before everything went to hell. There’s a bunch of them now.” She lowered her voice. “I can’t help wondering if it has to do with Fredo DeLuca.”

  Abby tried to keep her expression impassive. “Fredo DeLuca’s dead.”

  “I know,” Rosie said. “But there was that whole incident with him coming into the office, before… before the shooting at the hotel. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen Jason lose it. I wondered even then if he was into something bad."

  “What would that be with DeLuca dead?” Abby said softly, not wanting any of the passing mothers or nannies to overhear.

  “I have no idea,” Rosie said. “I just know that he’s not right. He looks…” She laughed sadly. “Well, he looks a little crazy, to be honest.”

  “Crazy, how?”

  “He doesn’t look like he’s sleeping.” Rosie’s mouth was drawn, the pretense of a casual meeting dropped now that they were really talking. “And he’s living in the hotel now, which is weird. I know he keeps the suite there for backup, but I’ve never seen him stay more than a couple of nights, and that was only when he was trying to close a deal that had him making international calls at all hours.”

  “What do you make of it?” Abby asked.

  Rosie sighed. “It’s understandable, I suppose. He’s under assault from every corner. The FBI’s been in more than once, and rumor has it the board might be looking for ways to get him out.”

  “And the hotel?” Abby asked.

  “Business is down,” Rosie said. “The shooting doesn’t exactly fit in with our brand.”

  “No, I’m sure that didn’t help."

  Abby had helped brainstorm the Tangier’s marketing strategy in the early days of Jason’s search for funding. Its brand was Hemingway traveling across the desert in a caravan of camels, camping in luxurious tents, surrounded by intricate rugs, silk cushions, the finest food and wine.

  What it wasn’t was a Mob-related shooting and a runaway CEO wanted as a person of interest in a federal investigation.

  “Have you considered leaving?” Abby asked.

  “I can’t do that. My job is to lookout for Jason. I’ll do that to the best of my ability as long as he’s there.”

  “He’s lucky to have you.”

  Rosie opened her mouth to speak, then closed it as her granddaug
hter came running over. They suspended their discussion as Rosie introduced Abby to the spirited little girl, and Abby spent a few minutes asking Hannah about her weekend with her grandmother. Finally impatient with all the talking, Hannah tugged on Rosie’s hand and begged her to watch her jump off the swings.

  “I guess my time’s up,” Rosie laughed, getting to her feet.

  Hannah launched herself across the sand, getting a jump on Rosie as she aimed for one of the free swings.

  Abby smiled and leaned in to give Rosie a hug. “It was so nice to see you. Will you let me know if you need anything? Whatever happens with Jason, I can always act as a reference if you need one for another job.”

  Rosie smiled. “Thank you. I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “Talk soon.”

  “There is one more thing,” Rosie said as Abby was turning to leave.

  “What’s that?”

  Rosie stepped closer and drew in a breath. “He carries a gun now.”

  “Who does?”

  “Jason.” She sighed. “I don’t know if it matters. I think I just needed to tell someone.”

  Abby nodded, dread spreading slow and sticky like molasses in her stomach. “Please be careful, Rosie.”

  She nodded and started toward Hannah, already pumping her legs to take her higher on the swing.

  Abby looked at the smile plastered on Rosie’s face as she approached her granddaughter and was grateful she didn’t have to keep up that kind of pretense.

  The idea of Jason with a gun was ludicrous. Then, the more she thought about it, it wasn’t.

  And that was the most terrifying thing of all.

  Ten

  Max waited until Abby was asleep to slip out of bed. She’d had a long day — a difficult day — and he had no desire to add to the worry he’d seen in her eyes when she’d told him about her visit with Rosie.

  He’d had to fight to keep his control when she’d told him. He’d wanted to rage, to tell her that putting herself anywhere in Jason’s orbit was dangerous, that she should know better after everything that had happened.