Finally, the killer reached the front door. Rex ducked back into the second bedroom. The knob jingled as it turned. The drumming in his chest started again and he gripped his gun tighter, imagined the door swinging open, the killer’s eyes darting around, taking in the setting.
The flashlight switched off. Then, as though making a decision, quick, determined footsteps advanced and stopped at the first bedroom. Rex waited, listening as the killer entered the room. Peering into the murky hallway, he saw it was clear. Rex hugged the wall without touching it, for fear his clothing would rustle with the contact. Inching forward, he prayed the old floorboards would not give him away.
There was a swishing sound and then another – and another.
Rex rounded the corner and stepped into the bedroom doorway, his gun extended. The killer’s back was to him and he was staring down at the bed, so intent on his mission he was unaware of Rex’s presence. The hand holding his gun had dropped to his side. Clearly, he considered his job done.
‘Take that, Donaldson. Die, you bastard,’ the killer snarled. As if possessed, he raised his gun again.
Rex watched in disbelief as the killer emptied the rest of his magazine into the mass on the bed. Finally, the trigger clicked, signalling it was empty.
Knowing the killer was now unarmed gave Rex a boost of confidence. He moved swiftly, with the agility of someone half his age, and pressed his weapon hard against the killer’s temple. The man froze.
‘Drop the gun, arsehole,’ Rex hissed. ‘It won’t be me who’s dying today.’
CHAPTER 33
Lexie glanced at her watch and let out a heavy sigh. After waiting in Rocco’s office for over forty-five minutes, she was growing increasingly impatient – not to mention pissed off. Who invited someone to meet them at a certain time and then didn’t turn up themselves? She would give him another ten minutes, then, if he was still a no-show, she was out of here. Almost as though he had read her mind, her work phone signalled the arrival of a text message.
I’m so sorry I’ve been delayed, Lara. I hope you will forgive me. I will take you out for a special dinner to make it up to you. See you in twenty minutes. Rocco x
What to do? Very presumptuous that he expected her to be still waiting for him, which of course she was. Also bold to assume she would continue to wait for him on the promise of a ‘special dinner’. What did that mean? Lexie went to the bar, poured a glass of water, drank it, and then lay back on the daybed to consider her options.
Lexie Rogers would have left, but right now she was Lara Wild, a woman who wanted, needed, to do business with Rocco, to build a relationship and rapport. She would wait, because it would be stupid not to. Although she would let Rocco know she was not happy.
Shivering, Lexie draped a throw rug over herself. It was cold down here in the bowels of the building and she hadn’t thought to bring a jacket. Closing her eyes, she tried to relax. Rocco had said he would be another twenty minutes. In drug dealer speak, that definitely meant longer.
In the deathly quiet, Lexie heard hurried footsteps click-clacking – running – along the cement corridor outside. Two sets of heels were drawing nearer, she realised. There was a high-pitched shriek and muffled yells. She sat bolt upright just as the door to Tiffany’s office which was right next door, slammed shut and the screaming began.
Lexie moved across the office which was right next door, and silently opened the door. The argument was heated, their shouting ear-splitting.
‘What is your fucking problem, Tiffany?’ The woman’s voice was venomous. ‘You’re a hateful, jealous cow.’
There was a forced laugh, which sounded more like a grunt. ‘You have got to be kidding me. Why in the world would I be jealous of you, Erika? Am I jealous of your pretentious lifestyle, your loveless marriage, or your good looks? You’re nothing but a whiny, ugly, skank.’
‘I’m more woman than you’ll ever be!’ Erika wailed. ‘And you know it.’
‘You are delusional, sweetheart,’ Tiffany spat back. ‘You are nothing. What are you even doing here? Looking for that wayward husband of yours? Trying to keep track of him, are you? Why don’t you try one of the rooms upstairs? But I wouldn’t disturb him. He’s probably enjoying the company of one of our girls and that could be embarrassing.’
Erika let out a glass-shattering scream. Lexie flinched. ‘Lucky is not upstairs with one of those prostitutes.’
‘You need to get yourself a job, Erika,’ Tiffany said, her voice condescending but calm. ‘Make yourself feel useful. Stop being a kept woman living off your husband’s money. Stop hanging around here. You’re wasting my time. You scare customers away.’
‘I hate you . . . you are such a bitch.’ Erika was furious.
‘Now, that’s not nice, is it?’ Tiffany’s voice was getting lower, harder to hear. Lexie stuck her head further into the corridor, watching the stairs intently to make sure no one appeared. ‘I am your husband’s employer, you know. You really should be nicer to me. I’d hate to have to fire him because of your disrespect.’
‘You can’t fire him and you know it.’ Erika’s voice was righteous now. ‘He’s best friends with the real boss. You’re just a stand-in, so it would serve you to remember your place.’
Confused, Lexie tried to make sense of things. She thought Rocco was the boss, the owner of the club – that’s what licensing probity checks had indicated. Although it was common within organised crime syndicates to use figureheads, two-dollar shelf companies and silent partners to hide the real owners. It was all smoke and mirrors. So what was Tiffany’s role in all this? Who was the real boss?
‘How am I expected to respect someone like you, anyway?’ This was Erika. ‘You’re nothing but—’
Lexie heard what sounded like a slap. Silence followed and then Erika began to scream abuse again. ‘You fucking piece of shit . . . I can’t believe you hit me! I’ll kill you . . . I’ll fuckin’ kill you for that.’
Lexie’s hand flew to her mouth as she heard the sounds of a scuffle begin. She didn’t know whether to laugh or intervene. Their spat was more than entertaining, but what if one of them really got hurt and – oh god, what was she supposed to do? She heard what sounded like a chair being upturned, lots of swearing, name-calling. Lexie started to edge backwards, retreating into Rocco’s office in case they came flying out into the corridor. Then she froze in her tracks.
‘How are you going to kill me, Erika?’ Tiffany shouted, sounding breathless, spiteful. ‘Are you going to get your boyfriend to slip something into my drink so I never wake up? Just like you did to that poor working girl your husband was in love with?’
There was a long pause. Had Erika been rendered speechless? Lexie held her breath, waiting.
‘You didn’t think I knew, did you?’ Tiffany’s voice was commanding, and with an oddly deep edge to it. ‘Don’t worry. If you promise to be courteous in future and answer me one question, I won’t tell a single soul your secret.’
‘What?’ Erika hissed. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘Your husband, he sleeps with prostitutes, or anyone who will have him,’ Tiffany said, as if it was old news. ‘But what I don’t get is why you care? Why do you care so much when you’re fucking his brother?’
CHAPTER 34
Lexie and Rocco walked into Jordan’s Seafood Restaurant at Darling Harbour and were greeted with a rush of cool air infused with the delicious aromas of fine cuisine. An elderly gentleman wearing a black tuxedo and a welcoming smile showed them to a table by the window. He pulled out a chair, waited for Lexie to take a seat and then repeated the process with Rocco.
‘My name is Hans and I will be your waiter for tonight. Can I start by getting you a drink, sir, madam?’
‘Yes,’ Rocco said. ‘A bottle of your finest red, please.’
‘Certainly, sir.’ Hans bowed and backed away.
Lexie gazed out at the swarms of people wandering along the waterfront promenade. With the city skyline in the distance and the
reflection of neon lighting from surrounding establishments glistening across the water, Darling Harbour resembled a jewel pulsing with colour and vitality.
‘Was this a good choice?’ Rocco asked her.
Smiling, she tried hard to push a sense of unease away. This felt too intimate, too much like a date. Lexie reminded herself this was all part of the undercover game. Think of this as a business dinner. She was expected to mingle, hang out with associates, get to know them as you would anyone else you were working with.
‘Hard not to like a place like this.’ Lexie waved her hand towards the window. ‘Look at the spectacular view.’
The restaurant’s decor was also dazzling: classy black and white, with soft lighting and, flames flickering in crystal centrepieces. Fine silver cutlery was set perfectly on white tablecloths. There was hardly an empty table – which was always a good sign – and the patrons were elegantly dressed. The background music could only just be heard above the hum of chatter. A well-known model and her actor boyfriend sat at the table next to them.
‘It’s lovely, though you didn’t have to go to so much trouble. I would have been happy with local Chinese,’ Lexie said. ‘Not that I’m complaining at all, but . . . I feel slightly underdressed.’
In contrast to her casual attire, Rocco wore an outlandish crimson suit and black tie, which he somehow managed to pull off.
‘You look perfect and you deserve this after I so rudely kept you waiting.’
‘True,’ Lexie replied. Little did Rocco know his lateness had been a blessing in disguise – it had allowed her to overhear the cat fight between Tiffany and Erika and obtain the DVDs, which were now hidden at the bottom of her handbag. Lexie had no idea what they contained, but she hoped it might be significant.
Hans the waiter appeared and poured a splash of wine into a glass for Rocco’s approval. He tasted it, licked his lips and nodded. Filling Lexie’s glass, Hans placed the bottle on the table and then disappeared.
‘Cheers.’ Rocco held his wine in the air.
Lexie touched her glass to his, waited to hear the gentle clink, then brought it to her lips. ‘Very nice.’
‘One of my clients is high maintenance; expects me to be at her beck and call twenty-four-seven. She won’t deal with anyone but me. I only put up with her because she is very wealthy. Has a raving coke addiction, so I make a lot of money from her.’ Rocco’s vivid blue gaze roamed her face. ‘Lara, you are not high maintenance from what I can tell. You don’t seem to have airs and graces. I like that.’
‘Why would I have airs and graces?’ Lexie replied, somewhat surprised by his comment. ‘I have no time for fake or superficial people. I like to keep it real.’
Rocco laughed, displaying a set of perfect white teeth. ‘That is refreshing. I have met too many princesses in my time. They are difficult – demanding.’
‘I can assure you there are many women who are smart, independent, nice – and not princesses.’
‘Like you.’
Lexie nodded and reached for the menu. Rocco did the same and they studied their options.
‘Are you ready to order, sir, madam?’ Hans materialised beside their table.
‘Yes,’ they answered simultaneously, then laughed, before placing their orders.
Rocco waited for Hans to retreat before speaking again. ‘Have I told you today how beautiful you are? I don’t think I have.’ He cocked his head to the side and looked hungrily at her lips. He really was attractive, had charisma, and knew it. However, she still sensed his darker side lingering below. She imagined he could be as ruthless as he could be amiable, when he chose to be. If he knew she was a cop, he would undoubtedly kill her. A shiver slipped down her spine.
‘Thank you,’ Lexie replied gratefully. Lowering her eyes, she tried to break the intimate connection he was hoping to create. ‘Though I bet you say that to all the girls.’
Rocco neither confirmed nor denied her comment. ‘Can I ask you a question Lara?’ he said instead.
She nodded automatically, feeling a fluttering of nervous butterflies in her stomach. ‘Of course, Rocco.’ Lexie’s voice was surprisingly steady. ‘You can ask me anything.’ Was this some sort of test? Was he going to assess her knowledge of Rex’s supposed drug business? Was he going to try to trick her up?
‘Good.’ He leant his elbows on the table. ‘Tell me, has Tiffany warned you off me yet?’
‘Um . . .’ Lexie wasn’t sure how much to give away. Of all the things Rocco could have asked, she had not expected that. If Rocco scolded Tiffany for talking out of school, that would ensure the glamorous woman’s wrath. ‘Tiffany did mention you like the ladies. So I think she was warning me off you in a way because—’
‘She is in love with me?’ Rocco finished for her.
Lexie took a sip of wine. So he knew.
‘She’s only human.’ Rocco let out a deep chuckle before his expression turned thoughtful. ‘She’s done it before, but only when she is especially threatened. She knows it’s inevitable.’ He winked.
Letting that comment slide, Lexie protested, ‘I don’t want her threatened by me, Rocco. She obviously has feelings for you and I don’t want her to think – I don’t know.’ She pretended to be confused. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, if it is not too personal . . . is there history between the two of you?’
Little was known about Tiffany – she was not a main player in their investigation – or at least that was what they had thought. It was believed she was just an accessory; knew about Rocco and Lucky’s drug business, but was not directly involved. Any information she could gain about Tiffany could be helpful, though she had to be careful not to pry.
Rocco laughed as though the concept was ridiculous. ‘We have history but not in a romantic way. Oh no . . .’ He gazed at her for a long moment, as though deliberating whether to share something or not. ‘I feel I can trust you, Lara, but please assure me, whatever we talk about goes no further.’
‘Of course.’ Anticipation had those butterflies in her stomach doing backflips.
He took a long sip of wine and placed the glass back on the table, then stared out at the view. ‘I grew up in Ashfield and Tiffany moved in next door to my family when she was a teenager; about fourteen or fifteen I think. Things were different then . . . We . . . um . . .’
Rocco continued. ‘She spent a lot of time at my place. It was just her and her father and they didn’t get along. My mother took her under her wing, felt sorry for her. She’d feed her, spend time with her, sometimes do her washing.’ Rocco rolled his eyes. ‘Greek mothers can’t help themselves. Tiffany would sleep in our spare room when she was fighting with her dad – which was often. She moved out as soon as she was old enough. They’re still close, my mother and Tiffany.’
‘It sounds like she was lucky to have your family next door. What happened to her father? Did they sort out their differences?’ Lexie wanted a name.
Rocco hesitated, brought his focus back into the room. Was she asking too many questions? As a cop, it came naturally to inadvertently interrogate.
‘He’s alive but out of the picture,’ Rocco told her without elaborating.
Their entrees arrived: a prawn cocktail for Lexie and oysters Kilpatrick for Rocco. Hans draped napkins across their laps and topped up their wine glasses.
‘So I suppose Tiffany is more like a sister to you,’ Lexie said, trying to keep that line of conversation going.
‘Ah . . . I suppose you could say that. As well as a friend – nothing more.’
Then why did she get the feeling there was more to this story? Lexie’s mind was spinning. Did Rocco get Tiffany the job at Club Hellfire? Or was it the other way around: Tiffany was the boss, yet not the big boss, as revealed by the cat fight? But Rocco had said all he intended to for now.
‘Would you like to try one of my oysters?’ he asked. ‘They’re an aphrodisiac, you know.’
Feeling the heat of his penetrating gaze, Lexie glanced down at her food, then took a delica
te bite of a prawn. ‘You are a perpetual flirt, Rocco. Thanks, but I’m not fussed on oysters.’
He gave her a ‘your loss’ look before digging into his aphrodisiacs.
As they ate and sipped wine, Rocco did his best to enthral Lexie with tales of his childhood, his athleticism. He was an outstanding footballer, swimmer, basketball and soccer player. Apparently he could have been an Olympian but decided against it. There was not enough money in it, he joked. Lexie did her utmost to appear suitably amazed by his talents even when his boasting became tedious.
They both ordered spaghetti marinara for their main meal and between eating, drinking, and long, lingering looks, Rocco continued to talk about himself. Not once did he ask Lexie about her boyfriend. Or invite her to share anything about her life. It was all about him. However, Rocco’s incredible self-absorption took the pressure off Lexie to converse about her fictitious self. He was hard to dislike because he was entertaining and funny, but Lexie was certain she hadn’t ever met anyone quite so conceited.
‘You and Lucky seem close?’ Lexie said when she got the chance. She hoped her words sounded casual. ‘I get the feeling he doesn’t like me?’
Rocco shook his head and grunted. Stabbing his fork into the spaghetti, he twirled it. ‘Lucky can be a pain in the arse. Don’t take anything he says or does personally. For all his wealth, he is an unhappy man.’ He loaded the spaghetti into his mouth, chewed, then swallowed. ‘It’s all set for tomorrow night.’
Lexie sprang back in her chair, legitimately surprised. ‘Wow, that was fast.’ She felt ripples of exhilaration all the way to her fingertips.
‘Is that a problem?’
Fatal Mistake Page 19