by Diana Palmer
The Bow Tie was crowded. Tourists milled around between the hotel and the casino with its gaming tables, slot machines, and entertainment complexes with live shows.
Delia kept looking around for Marcus. She’d felt overdressed when she walked in, but she saw everything from people in torn jeans to women in evening gowns and men in tuxedos. Apparently the dress code was very flexible.
Dunagan took her arm and guided her through the carpeted expanse toward the floor of the casino near the cash booths. It was like a scene from a James Bond movie, she thought, fascinated by the roulette wheels and blackjack tables.
“It’s like a movie,” she murmured.
He chuckled. “More than you realize,” he replied.
They approached the entrance to the elevators when Delia spotted Marcus. He was wearing a tuxedo. He looked elegant and wealthy. Next to him was an olive-skinned woman, very beautiful, with long black hair. She was wearing a white silk dress, and she looked as expensive as Marcus. She had him by the arm, and he was smiling down at her.
Delia felt more insecure by the minute. It had seemed so easy when she was planning it. She even had Barney’s note in her evening bag as an excuse to speak to Marcus. But when it came right down to it, she got cold feet. She remembered unpleasantly that he’d told her not to contact him. He’d been explicit. Certainly he had a reason, if he was really mixed up with the Miami mob. But where did that gorgeous brunette come in? And was she part of the deal Barney talked about, the secret project that nobody wanted her to know about?
Dunagan urged her forward. She hesitated.
Just as her feet froze, Marcus turned his head, laughing at something the brunette had said. He spotted Delia and the smile wiped clean off his face in an instant. He scowled furiously.
Delia felt unwell. Her stomach was queasy. She wanted to turn around and run. But it was already too late. Marcus and the brunette were moving right toward her.
“Hello, Miss Mason,” Marcus said in a deliberately casual tone.
“Mr. Carrera,” she replied, nodding at him. It was hard to pretend not to care, when the very sight of him was like water in the desert.
“You know each other?” the brunette asked, her dark eyes snapping.
“Mr. Carrera saved me from a drunken guest here at the casino last month,” Delia volunteered.
“A real rat,” Marcus drawled. “Doing okay, Miss Mason?” he added.
She forced a careless smile. “Doing fine, thanks.”
“Nice place,” Dunagan murmured, smiling. “Is there a bar?”
“There are three,” the brunette said, running her eyes over him like seeking hands.
“You don’t say? I’m Dunagan,” he said, moving closer. “Do you mind pointing the way to me?”
“No problem,” the young woman replied. “I’ll just be a minute, Marcus.”
“Delia, wait here, okay?” Dunagan told her. “When she shows me the bar, I’ll get some chips on the way back.”
“Okay,” Delia replied, smiling sweetly.
They were no sooner out of earshot when Marcus exploded. “What the hell is your problem?” he demanded with blazing dark eyes. “I told you…!”
She slid her hand into his, pressing the note into it. “Don’t fuss,” she said under her breath.
He felt the note and scowled.
“Barney,” she said without moving her lips, looking around as if she were searching for Dunagan.
“What has he told you?” he demanded.
“Nothing.”
He didn’t believe her. The situation was dangerous. Terribly dangerous. He turned and unobtrusively tore open the small envelope, running his eyes over the block printing. His whole face tautened. He slid the note into his pocket and looked down at Delia with an expression that would have stopped a bank robber cold.
“Get out of here,” he said coldly. “Don’t come back. Ever.”
The heartless words made her heart stop. What had been in that note? “Is it that woman?” Delia asked, feeling her heart turning to ice.
“It always was,” he said without meeting her eyes. “We had a fight. She was in Miami and I got lonely.”
She was pregnant. He’d said he adored her. And all of it, everything, was because he’d been missing his girlfriend?
He looked down at her, and his expression was cruel. “You heard me. Running after me isn’t going to win you any points. Don’t you have any pride at all? She’s wearing my ring!”
Delia knew she was going to die later. He couldn’t have made his feelings plainer.
“I’m here with another man, didn’t you notice?” she said, gathering the tattered remains of her pride. Her heart was shaking her with its racing beat, and she felt sick all over. “I should think that speaks for itself. I’m a messenger. Nothing more.”
“Good,” he returned. He jammed his hand into his pocket. “Get out and go back to Texas. You’re out of your league here.”
“I noticed.”
She turned her head and saw Dunagan returning with the brunette, who was glaring daggers at Delia.
“Do you love her?” she asked Marcus in the last second they were alone.
“With all my heart,” he said flatly.
She looked up into his hard eyes. “And you cheated on her?” she asked on a hollow laugh.
“We had a fight,” he said simply. He smiled cynically. “Did you think you had a chance? You’re sweet, honey, but you’re plain as old shoes and about as sophisticated as a sand crab. You believe everything a man tells you.”
“Not ever again,” she replied with a tight smile. She searched his eyes. “They were right about you all the time,” she said unsteadily. “You’re just a gangster.”
“Count on it,” he agreed with cold eyes.
She turned away on shaky legs and smiled warmly at Dunagan. “Did you get the chips?”
“Sure did,” he told her with a grin. “She showed me where to go. Thanks,” he added to the gorgeous brunette.
“No problem,” she said carelessly, moving right up next to Marcus with a possessive glance and a speaking glare toward Delia. “Have a good time.”
“Oh, we will,” Dunagan assured them, steering Delia toward the tables. “Good evening.”
Dunagan stopped to speak to a man he knew. While he was distracted, Delia took a minute to catch her breath and try to pull herself together. She’d never dreamed that Marcus would treat her so cruelly. And the way he’d looked at her, as if she were an insect, beneath his notice. Her heart felt as if it had been shattered.
She put a tissue unobtrusively to her wet eyes, but as she put it away in her purse, she noticed a small, dark man with big ears that had curly lobes. His earlobes were so odd looking that she almost missed seeing the pistol that he was pulling out of his jacket. He was looking straight at Marcus.
Without even thinking of the danger, she turned and walked into him, knocking him off balance.
The small man cursed, gave her a seething glare, quickly stuck the pistol back into his belt and blended immediately into the crowd. He was out of sight seconds later. Marcus hadn’t seen anything. Neither had Dunagan.
Delia’s heart raced madly as she rejoined Dunagan. “Did you see that?” she asked quickly, without raising her voice.
“See what?”
“There was a small man with a gun. He pulled it out of his belt and was about to shoot Marcus with it. I knocked him off balance and he took off,” she said, her eyes worried. “What is going on here?”
Dunagan ground his teeth together. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know. He’s very ordinary looking except for his earlobes. He just blended into the crowd. I don’t know where he went.”
“Did he realize that you saw the gun?”
“I don’t think so,” she replied curtly. “Why is someone trying to kill Marcus?”
He hesitated, just as Mr. Smith came striding into the room, alerted, no doubt, by his closed circuit camera. People moved ou
t of his way as he joined Dunagan and Delia. Marcus, curious and solemn, glanced toward Smith, with his arm tightly around the brunette as if he wondered why Smith had approached Delia.
“Did you see him?” Smith asked Dunagan.
“I didn’t,” he replied tersely, “but Delia did. Were you watching?”
“Yes, on my monitors, for all the good it did me. I don’t think Marcus noticed anything.” He turned to Delia with an urgent expression. “What did you see?” he asked her gently.
“Surely you saw him, too?” she asked softly, careful not to let anyone overhear. “Wasn’t he on your monitor?”
He grimaced. “I got a nice shot of his back and the back of his head on tape, along with just a flash of the gun when he pulled it out and put it back up. The other monitors had a sudden, very convenient glitch, which means that he either has an accomplice or he knows his way around surveillance equipment.”
“Suspicious,” Dunagan murmured.
“Step outside with me, would you?” Smith asked quietly.
They went with him to the entrance. Delia managed not to look back at Marcus, who was still staring toward them, even though her heart was breaking at what he’d said to her.
“Was he aiming at Marcus?” Smith asked Delia the minute they were alone.
“I’m sure of it,” she replied. “I walked into him deliberately, but I’m sure he didn’t connect me with Marcus.”
“What did he look like?”
“He was dark, small, ordinary, but he had unusual earlobes.”
“Would you recognize him if you saw him again?” Smith persisted.
“Yes,” she said with confidence.
Smith sighed roughly and ran a hand over his smooth head. “I didn’t see it coming. That’s a first.”
Delia’s blood was running cold. Someone wanted Marcus dead. Was it the government? Surely they’d go after him with a subpoena, not a hit man?
“Will he try again?” she wondered.
“Of course,” Smith replied angrily. “And we won’t see him coming next time.”
“Maybe we could get a sketch artist,” Dunagan ventured.
“No time,” Smith replied. “He’ll try again tonight. He can’t afford to wait now.” He looked at Delia. “I need you to stick around. Will you wear a wire, so that you can alert me the instant you see him, if you do?”
“Y…yes, of course,” she said, although she wanted desperately to run to Marcus and protect him with her very life.
Smith looked at Dunagan.
“I won’t leave her for a minute,” he promised Smith.
“Are you packing?” Smith asked surprisingly.
To Delia’s surprise, Dunagan nodded, opening his dinner jacket to expose a shoulder holster with an automatic pistol.
“Okay. We’ll go to my office and do what’s necessary.”
“Why is Marcus in danger?” Delia wanted to know.
“I can’t say,” Smith said tersely. “Let’s go.”
Delia had a small battery-pack appliance attached to her dress under the belt at her waist, and the wire ran up just under the shoulder strap of her dress where it was clipped in place by Smith’s efficient hands. It was black, and it didn’t show. He inserted an earpiece in her ear, as well. She felt the danger like a living thing, more for Marcus than for herself. If he were killed, despite her misery tonight, she didn’t know how she’d go on living.
“All you have to do is sing out,” Smith assured her, indicating the receiver in his ear. “I’ll hear you. I’m going to have the casino ringed around with volunteer staff. He won’t get through us.”
Delia managed a weak smile. “Gosh, I hope not.”
“Keep your eyes open. And be careful,” he added. “If this guy is a contract killer, he won’t hesitate to shoot anybody who gets in his way, including you.”
“They didn’t waste any time, did they?” Dunagan said bitterly.
“Not a second,” Smith agreed.
Delia glanced from one to the other, totally in the dark. Everyone seemed to know what was going on, except for her. But the thought that some stranger was trying to kill Marcus made her sick at heart. She was carrying his child, and he didn’t know. How could she bear it if something happened to him?
“I’ll be right beside her,” Dunagan added.
It was only then that Delia realized he was wired already. He had an earpiece in his ear, too.
“Gosh, this is cloak-and-daggerish,” she murmured.
Smith cocked an eyebrow. “You have no idea,” he mused, green eyes sparkling. “All right. Are we ready? Showtime.”
“What about Marcus?” Delia asked. “Does he know that somebody’s trying to kill him?”
“If you gave him Barney’s note, he does,” Dunagan replied.
Her breath caught. That explained his expression, his determination to get her out of the casino. He didn’t want her out of his life at all. He was protecting her! She felt her heart lift like a balloon.
“But he didn’t see the assassin, did he?” Smith persisted.
“I can’t be sure, but he didn’t even look our way until the man blended into the crowd.”
“Come on,” Dunagan coaxed. “Let’s get back downstairs. I’ll be right with you every step of the way.”
She gave him a curious smile. “You’re not a tourist, are you?” she asked.
He chuckled. “Sort of.”
“Don’t ask him any questions,” Smith told her firmly. “What you don’t know keeps you safer. And you watch yourself,” he added. “We don’t want to lose you.”
“I’m going to be fine,” she assured him. “The thing is to save Marcus.”
“Amen,” Smith said.
“Let’s go,” Dunagan said.
“I’m right behind you,” she replied, glancing one last time at Mr. Smith.
Her spirits dwindled a little when they were back on the casino floor and she saw the brunette curled into Marcus’s big body while they stood on the staircase overlooking a bank of slot machines, talking to a customer. He was holding her with one arm, still smiling down at her with possession. It broke Delia’s heart to see it. Had he really been trying to protect her, or was he genuinely involved with that dynamite brunette? From where she stood, it didn’t really look as if he were pretending to be interested. Especially when his big hand strayed down to the brunette’s hip and caressed it. She thought of the child she was carrying and fear rippled across her body. She was taking a chance not only for herself, but for the baby, as well, and nobody knew. But she couldn’t back out. Nobody else would recognize the man who was trying to kill Marcus. Only her.
She didn’t look directly at Marcus, but her eyes were everywhere else, darting to and fro while she tried to locate any sign of the odd man who’d aimed the gun at Marcus earlier. What a lucky break for her that he hadn’t realized the bump she gave him was deliberate. It had saved Marcus’s life.
Dunagan steered her to a slot machine just below Marcus and gave her a handful of quarters. “Go for it,” he coaxed. “Just keep your eyes open at the same time.”
She noted that he’d placed her so that she had a clear view of Marcus, who was standing just above her on the staircase between the first and second floors of the casino. He didn’t move from the spot. Obviously, Smith hadn’t yet spoken to him. Out in the open like that he made a good target, but it was also easy to see anyone approaching him. That had to be deliberate, to keep the hit man from thinking Marcus was aware of his presence, but it was dangerous. Smith was taking a terrible chance on Delia’s ability to recognize the assassin.
The only bad spot came when Delia had to make a quick trip to the rest room, but she’d given Dunagan the best description she could and she hoped he could recognize the man if he reappeared.
As she walked out of the cubicle to wash her hands, the gorgeous brunette was waiting for her at the elegant, gilded bank of sinks.
She was primping, pushing at her perfectly coiffed long black hair. Sh
e gave Delia a cold going-over.
“I saw you talking to Marcus, while your boyfriend lured me away,” she said icily. “Just don’t get your hopes up. He belongs to me.”
“Does he?” Delia asked.
“And nobody poaches on my territory,” she said in a thick northern accent. She even smiled. “Not if they want to stay healthy.”
Delia wanted to hit the woman. She was elegant, beautiful, rich, everything Delia wasn’t. And Marcus had said he loved her.
“Have you known him long?” she asked.
“Long enough to know that I love him,” the woman said smugly. “And I can afford him. You can’t. A woman like you would be useless to a man like Marcus. You don’t even know how to dress!” she said rudely. “A country rube at a place like this. What a joke! He’d have to hide you in a closet to keep his friends from laughing if they got a good look at you!”
Delia’s eyes sparked, but she pretended surprise. “You’re kidding, of course,” she retorted. “As if I’d want to be seen going around with a gangster!”
The woman’s eyes opened wide. She hadn’t expected that response.
“I come from respectable, decent people,” she added haughtily, “who wouldn’t be seen dead in company like this! I have too much pride to lower myself to that level!”
“How dare you!” the woman snapped. “Do you have any idea who I am? My father is filthy rich and so am I!”
Delia washed her hands and dried them nonchalantly. “Filthy is a good word for the sort of rich you are,” she said. “Do have a nice evening.” She smiled coolly and walked out.
“You…!”
The vulgar word floated on the air so loudly that a couple of heads turned when Delia walked out into the casino, but she paid no attention to her sudden notoriety. Her blood was boiling. She’d have liked nothing better than to knock the woman down. But she had other concerns.
“Wow,” came a soft, deep chuckle in her ear. “Remind me never to make you mad.”
It was Smith. He’d heard every word. Delia grimaced. She glanced behind her, watching the brunette storm up the staircase toward Marcus. “I’m a bad girl,” she whispered.