by Lucy Farago
Chapter Twenty-four
Noah hadn’t returned to the house. The ass had called Christian—not Shannon—with instructions that she was not to leave the house for the next two days. No ifs, ands, or sorry asses about it. She was on lockdown. Santos didn’t know who she was but was on the prowl. And while it made her want to scrub every inch of her body with scalding water, it was ridiculous to think the man would go through that much trouble for her. What was his problem?
Weeks ago, Maggie and Christian had planned a vacation to Tahoe for this week. After assuring them she wouldn’t allow anyone onto the property—she wouldn’t make that mistake again—she told Christian and Maggie not to change their plans. She could handle time by herself. But after one day, all that was absent was the long tail and whiskers for her to feel like a mouse trapped in a cage. And for that reason she couldn’t hit the Reply button fast enough when Noah’s number came up on her phone. It had nothing to do with missing him. “Hello,” she said in a tone she hoped said I’m bored and screw you and I’m not happy you called, all at the same time.
“I’m just checking in. Seeing if you’re all right.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” She had to admit, in the grand scheme of things, he was the one risking his life. All she had to do was sit on her butt for two days.
“Because you don’t like being left out of decisions that affect your life.”
“Show me one person who does.”
“Again, sorry. We could’ve had this conversation face-to-face, but I was given forty-eight hours to put Santos away. That’s not a lot of time to coordinate everyone. Please believe me. If there had been any way to deliver the news myself, I would’ve. I just want you to be safe. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”
“That’s not nice.” Playing on her guilt.
“What, my not wanting you to get hurt?”
“No, you’re guilting me into doing what you want. I’ll never forgive myself,” she said in a baritone, “do you want that haunting you forever? You’re trying to make me feel bad by using how I left things between us the first time.”
“I am not. When are you going to believe I’m over it? I said my piece and now it’s done. What kind of person would I be if I held a grudge? If something happened to me, wouldn’t you feel bad? Or do I mean that little to you?”
“Stop it. It’s not the same thing.” And it wasn’t. He could die in the line of duty. Then this stupid conversation was what she’d truly regret. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Christian’s not here for me to pick a fight with, so I’m antsy.”
“You want me to put a man on the house?”
She refrained from laughing at his sudden concern. She wasn’t some kid, but he didn’t need another thing to worry about. “I’m bored, not scared. Santos doesn’t know I’m here and this place has tighter security than some casinos. I’m not going anywhere. You go do whatever it is you need to do and don’t worry about me. It’ll be over soon, right?”
“Things are moving along. I can’t tell you the details, but everything is coming together nicely.”
“Good.” Across the line, she heard someone call him; this conversation was, sadly, about to end.
“I gotta go. I love you.”
“Be safe.” She hung up.
Did she regret not telling him she loved him too? She almost called him back. But maybe it was better that she hadn’t. Love you meant forever, and they didn’t have forever.
*
Dinner was a salad and leftover salmon all by her lonesome. It was quiet and unexciting. Shannon was unloading the dishwasher when her phone rang. She was pathetically disappointed to see it wasn’t Noah. “Hello.”
“Ms. Joyce?” asked a woman whose voice she didn’t recognize.
“I’m sorry, who is this?” Occasionally, as she did with the young woman at the station, she gave out her card, but with all the bullshit going on, she wasn’t about to confirm who she was.
“I’m Shelley Hobbs, an old friend of your father’s. I don’t think you and I ever met.”
Warning bells told Shannon to hang up. She could tell the woman she had the wrong person, making a mental note to change her number immediately.
But the woman went on. “I’m here on vacation and, funny thing, I bumped into Arnie. I haven’t seen him in years. We got to talking and he mentioned JJ was dead.”
Arnie? Arnold West. She had not left him her card so he could give it out to JJ’s buddies. What the hell had she been thinking? She hadn’t been. She’d allowed her concern about her sister to cloud her better judgment. She’d pulled a Maggie.
“I can’t blame you for being skittish,” the woman said, filling in the silence. “JJ could be a real SOB. That man was a lousy father.”
Funny; it hadn’t looked to Shannon like any of JJ’s friends had noticed what an asswipe JJ was. So she had her doubts as to this woman’s sincerity. She snatched the cutlery rack out of the dishwasher and set it on the counter with a loud clatter.
“Ms. Joyce? I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk to, but I can assure you I’m not the same person I was all those years ago. Plus, I think I know who has your little sister.”
“You know about my sister?”
“There you are. Yes, I knew he had another kid. Look, I’m sorry. I imagine you’re not interested in talking to anyone who knew JJ. You and he didn’t end things well, and rightly so. To him you were another pawn in his games. But you should know, after you left he was never the same.”
She didn’t give a shit what he was or wasn’t. “My sister?”
“Right. Well, I think her mother has her.”
“That’s not possible. She’s dead.” Her instincts had told her not to talk to this woman. She should’ve listened. She began putting the cutlery away, her hands needing something to do.
“Who told you that?” Shelley said.
Shannon dropped a sharp knife, jumping as it nearly caught her toe. “She’s not dead?”
“Not that I know of. I don’t have all the details, but their breakup was nasty. JJ snatched the kid and ran.”
“Why didn’t the woman file a report?” She picked up the fallen knife and set it in the sink to be washed.
“Maybe she did. JJ had a buddy on the force. It’s possible he made it all disappear. He was adamant about keeping her away from his kid.”
“Why?” JJ never gave a shit about anyone but himself.
“He said she was abusive, an unfit mother. Dangerous even.”
Weren’t all abusive parents dangerous on some level? “And you know this because you and he remained friends?”
“Not really. We’d see each other from time to time. But like I told you, I turned over a new leaf. Anyway, I have her address if you want it. That is, if she’s still living there.”
Of course she wanted it. “You have my number; can you text it to me?”
“Sorry, I’m calling you from a landline in the lobby and my husband is waiting for me.”
“Okay.” Shannon looked for paper and found a pen and pad near Maggie’s kitchen phone. “Go ahead.”
As she jotted the address down, she debated what to do. “Thank you, Shelley.”
“No problem. I’ve got to go. I’ve kept my husband waiting and he doesn’t like to be kept waiting. Good luck.”
“Wait, what’s the woman’s name?”
But it was too late. Shelley had hung up. Shannon pressed the code for last number redial but reached guest services at the Wynn. She glanced down at the Maine address. She’d have to fly out. But did she trust this woman? She hadn’t been able to come up with an alternative reason for JJ hiding his daughter, other than he was protecting her from someone. What if that someone was an abusive mother? She had no way to prove that. Or anything else this Hobbs woman had told her, if she’d told the truth. They’d checked out Arnold West and he hadn’t lied.
Noah was busy with his case and wouldn’t be able to leave, and she wasn’t about to
have Maggie and Christian return home. And maybe getting out of town would be a good way to avoid Santos finding her.
She booked a flight and packed an overnight bag. She changed into yoga pants and a long comfy shirt and sent Maggie a text. If Shannon were making the wrong decision, Maggie would have until the Uber came to pick her up to tell her. While she waited she did a Google map search. From the satellite shot she could tell the neighborhood was very middle class, which surprised her. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this. Who the hell was she? And was she hurting her sister while Shannon stood around waiting for her ride?
Again, she had to wonder why JJ had gone to all this trouble to hide Cecilia. Had he really believed his daughter was in some kind of danger? Given that the man was a selfish prick … There was something to all of this she just wasn’t getting. But what?
The buzzer sounded. She checked the surveillance camera and saw the Uber sticker in the car waiting for her outside the gates. Maggie had yet to reply. “Coming,” she said into the monitor and headed down. At the end of the driveway she hesitated. Noah had told her not to leave the house. But was she risking her sister’s life by hesitating? Damn, this was a Maggie move. She used the wrought-iron side door and made sure it was closed securely before she left. She had, after all, promised Maggie that she wouldn’t allow anyone on the property. She was going to get flak for this, but at least she could say she hadn’t lied.
The driver, a silver-haired fox probably doing this on the side, opened her door. “Thanks.” She tossed her bag into the far end of the backseat and got in. Perhaps because this wasn’t her house, as she watched Maggie’s place disappear, she didn’t get that homesick feeling whenever she left Vegas. It didn’t matter how many days she was gone; she always got the preempted pit-in-the-bottom-of-her-stomach reaction. Even on their beach vacations, a part of her hated leaving home. Maybe finding her sister was far more important than worrying about a silly thing like being homesick. Or maybe she was seeing it for what it was, just a city.
They’d driven about ten minutes when her phone rang. Could it be Maggie telling her to turn around? Her seat belt constricted her movements, but as they were stopped at a red light, she unclipped it. One minute she was reaching for her purse, the next, two men had hopped in and were sandwiching her between them. She shoved the man to her left, but the one to her right grabbed her ponytail and yanked. “Ow, you fucker.” Instinctively, she backhanded him in the face before the other managed to grab her wrists.
The one she’d nailed lifted his hand to return the favor. She flinched, turning her face away.
“Are you fucking crazy?” his pal shouted.
“I think she broke it,” he argued, touching the bridge of his nose, his eyes watering.
“Better a broken nose than dead.”
She drew closer to the second man as goon one bent down and growled in her face. It was then she recognized Tomás Santos.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re a tough guy,” she told him, clearly having lost her mind, antagonizing him further. Her adrenaline now ebbing, her heart began to race. The driver did nothing, so he was one of them. “Want to let me go?” she said to the one manacling her wrists.
“Promise to be good?”
No, but he didn’t have to know that. If she screamed, would anyone notice? Would she even get one note out before she was gagged? And why the hell hadn’t she noticed the tinted windows before now? “Sure.”
He released her. She rubbed her hands trying to return her circulation, then seeing them shake clamped them shut. No way would she let these two see her fear. Doubting she would get an answer, she asked anyway. “What’s going on?”
“We were ordered to pick you up.”
“Boss and his blondes,” Tomás muttered, wiping at the blood dripping down his nose.
Noah was going to kill her. If there was anything left of her to kill. She considered her options. She didn’t have any. They were too big. She’d have to wait until they got out of the car. Headed in the direction of the Strip; that couldn’t be too bad. This time of year the area overflowed with tourists. She’d taken this route a million times. Her condo wasn’t far. When they stopped in the valet parking at the Wynn Towers, she was nothing short of stunned and pleased. Surely she could make her escape here?
“Don’t get any ideas,” the one who wasn’t bleeding said, showing her his gun inside his jacket.
She waited until they were out of the car and in plain sight of everyone before she opened her mouth. “You’re not going to shoot me,” she said, daring him to argue.
“No? What makes you say that?”
“If he’s not allowed to touch me”—she nodded toward Tomás—“what are the odds you are?”
“True. You got me there, beautiful. Wow, the boss found himself a smart one for a change. But here’s the thing. How do you know I won’t shoot your sister?”
The ground beneath Shannon moved and she had to clamp her knees to stop from falling. Santos had her sister? A million questions raced through her mind. Did she believe him or that woman, Shelley? Or had Shelley been working for Santos as a ruse to get her to leave the house? What had JJ told Santos about Cecilia? And worse, what if it was Santos who JJ was protecting Cecilia from? And if they were lying and they didn’t have her? Grudgingly, she realized she had no choice but to go along with them.
She said nothing.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Tomás sneered.
“I’d wipe the blood off my face,” the other goon told him. “Someone might call the cops.”
“Yeah.” She mimicked his sneer. “Then you’ll have to explain how a woman made you cry.”
His friend got between the two of them just in time to stop a meaty hand from grabbing her. She let out a slow breath. It was hard work pretending you weren’t scared for your life.
They entered the second tower and rode the elevator to the top floor. The doors opened to a waiting teenager. His hair was dyed pink, an odd color to go with the heavy metal getup and the lip piercing. She wasn’t sure if his sneer was meant for them or every adult he encountered, but her escorts returned his cheery disposition with a scary one of their own. The ballsy kid just flipped them off, the teacup poodle in his arm yipping as if in agreement as they entered the elevator. Smart dog … smart kid. Tomás took out a key card and opened the door to one of the suites. Inside, he disappeared down the hallway.
“Sit,” the other told her, pointing to living quarters. “Go and enjoy the view.”
The two-story cityscape was breathtaking, but she wasn’t here to be social. “Where’s my sister?” She folded her arms, ready to dig in her heels if she had to. She knew there was a chance they didn’t have Cecilia, but it was a chance that needed to be taken. Hell, they’d known about her.
A loud slap echoed from one of the rooms, catching their attention.
“Sit,” he repeated, without the if-you-know-what’s-good-for-you.
So no one else could sit beside her, she took a seat in the armchair while he went to block the front door.
These suites were for big spenders or anyone who liked using bills to stoke their fires. Decorated in shades of browns, golds, and creamy whites, the opulent room screamed money. And while she was never against someone taking advantage of what they had, over-the-top spending on a room that wasn’t going to occupy much of your time because the hotels really encouraged you to be out and spending money, made no sense. But this was Vegas, and for some ungodly reason a lot of people thought it was okay to go a little crazy when they visited this town. This was no place for Cecilia.
Santos emerged from one of the back rooms; a bedroom, she supposed. He was grinning and looking very happy to see her. She wasn’t sure how to play it. Should she be coy or show him exactly how much she wanted to tear her own skin off?
“Ms. Lewis, or should I say Ms. Joyce?”
Shit. She guessed if he’d wanted to kill her, he wouldn’t have brought her to his hotel r
oom. Here was hoping her guess wasn’t wrong. It was time to bluff. He knew her name, but maybe that was all he knew. “Both will do. Lewis was my father’s name, Joyce my mother’s and the one she gave me. You can understand why I wouldn’t want to alert the police to my legal name.”
He shrugged, taking a chair opposite her. “They have a way of finding things out.”
“When they go looking, yes. I try not to give them a reason to go looking. I believe you and I have had this conversation.” She wanted to know if he had Cecilia, but if she rushed it before knowing exactly why he’d brought her here, she could be sticking her foot so deep into her mouth she’d never get it out.
“So JJ really was your father?”
“Was, yes. And we really did work together.”
He leaned back and strummed his fingers over the armrest. “But you’re not an accountant, are you?”
The real question was, did he know about Noah and Damon or just her? One she could talk her way out of, the other … she didn’t want to consider. “No, I’m a civil attorney.” She needed something she didn’t have: time to think this through. That was the new Shannon. If she was going to survive this, she had no choice but to use a little of the old Shannon.
“Why lie to me about that?”
Did that question mean he wasn’t on to them? “I had no choice. I lied to the Keyeses. You just became an extension of that lie.” She was going to assume Shelley What’s-her-face had tricked her into leaving the house. That meant Shelley knew Santos. But the woman had talked to West. Had to have, or else how could she have known that Cecilia was missing? And thinking back, they hadn’t told West that Noah was an agent.
“I don’t like being lied to.” His face had taken on a menacing quality that told her to tread carefully.
“I can say the same. You don’t have my sister.” They’d tricked her.
“No, but we can talk about her later. For now, let’s keep this about you.” It wasn’t a request.
“The Keyeses are like single-minded mice,” she explained. “Put money at the end of a maze and they’ll track it. I didn’t want to be their bait. But he’d already told them we’d reconnected and where I lived. So we made a deal. No one was to know anything else about me. Then he went and got himself murdered and screwed everything up.”