I wished we could stay longer at the camp site, but shortly after dawn, we got moving again. Leslie did just as good a job packing up the tent as she did setting it out. I had to give her credit for not sucking at outdoor life. That pampered-looking Marilyn costume had fooled me too. I’d forgotten the little I did know about her background: she was raised in the south, her Daddy was a farmer, she was probably in the fucking 4H for all I knew.

But it was nice to see that outside of Vegas, she hadn’t lost who she really was. I happen to hate a bunch of fake shit on a woman, and she had dropped the last bit of fake with that hair.

The camp stop had done us good. If we stuck to the plan, maybe we’d make it to my ranch. It was just one step at a time, get farther away from Vegas, let our trail get cold, let the Maldonados lose interest.

That, of course, was me fooling myself. Franco was dead; they wouldn’t forget that. Somehow, the haze of the last few days had let me forget it. They may not know that Leslie did it, but they did know we were involved. That was not information Antonio Maldonado would let go.

We drove almost nine hours, stopping every three or so for gas. We had fallen into a pattern: I’d fill the tank, she’d head in for snacks and whatnot, then she’d sit in the locked truck while I went in and out of the station, too. It worked, and I was mostly able to keep a close eye on her.

We were somewhere in Idaho when it all went to hell. I walked into the service station after she’d finished putzing around in there. As we passed, she pecked me on the cheek. I clicked open the lock of the truck so she could climb in like we’d done for the last few hundred miles.

I was quick, but not quick enough. I felt it before I saw it. Something was off, wrong. I ran back out to the lot.

There was a cloud of dust as a dark vehicle drove away and out onto the highway.

“Leslie!” I yelled.

I ran to the truck and knew, I just knew, she wouldn’t be in there.

I started the truck. I was going to follow; it wasn’t too late. Except a sickening thwap noise let me know immediately that my tires had been slashed, all of them. They were going to make it impossible. I slammed my hand on the steering wheel. Then I slammed my head on it.

Son of a bitch, had my route been so predictable?

That’s when I saw it, a piece of paper with Marilyn’s lipstick on the outside and my name. What the fuck?

How had she had time to leave me a note? That’s when it started to dawn on me. I opened it but feared I already knew what was inside. She’d been planning this.

Her writing was loopy, big. I’d never seen it before, another thing I had no idea about with her. Seemed like a big thing.

 

Lincoln,

I’m so sorry.

These last few days have been the happiest I’ve had since I was a kid. When I think about all you’ve done for me, the danger, the things you’ve given up, I just can’t stand it.

I thought I could run away with you and it would be okay. But it won’t. They’re going to keep coming after me and you will get hurt or killed trying to protect me. That’s how Daddy’s life was ruined. I can barely live with that. I won’t have it happen to you too.

Here’s the thing. I turned myself into them. They promised that Daddy will get into the cancer treatment center and they promised not to hound you anymore if I stopped running.

The only ones who know about your dreams are Petra and me and I won’t tell.

Don’t worry I have a plan. It will be okay. I will be okay.

Now close this note and go.

I love you,

Leslie

 

P.S. If you’re going to have chickens have three. And do three different breeds. Oh and don’t go free range at first. You don’t have time for that.

 

I folded up the note. What the hell was she thinking? Had she really considered all the options?

Option one was they just killed her. Option two was they shipped her overseas for god knows what. Option three was prison.

 If she’d confessed, maybe they’d decided she could be a public example of what happened when you crossed the Maldonados. None of these options were good for her. None. I hoped she hadn’t confessed. A plan? What plan?

My first reaction was panic. How was I going to get her away from them again? Where were they likely to take her? Every second I mulled over my next move, she was one more mile away from me.

I was out of ideas and decided I needed help, or Leslie’s plan to sacrifice herself would be irreversible. I would not accept that.

I hadn’t used my cell phone for days, but it was time.

I dialed the number that only a few of us had. The voice on the other end was irritated but promised to listen. I was putting a lot of faith in one place, but I didn’t have a choice. I explained the situation as quickly as I could and hoped that I’d made the right call.

I hung up and dialed a second number.

Another voice on the other end was beyond irritated, but I didn’t give a damn. It was an emergency.

I had to be very fast, and I had to call in every favor I was owed.

Getting Leslie out again was the longest shot in the world.

***

Leslie was not treated well by the goons who’d picked her up. They’d gotten orders from Dom and Antonio, and what she’d seen of them had her scared.

“Dom said I could make a call,” she asserted from the back seat as they drove to the airport.

“He didn’t tell us that. If you don’t shut up, we’ll be switching you from the back seat to the trunk, get it?” Already, Leslie regretted what she’d done. What if they never let her check on Daddy? What if they didn’t leave Lincoln alone?

The only thing she felt good about was that Daddy was in the cancer hospital. She didn’t give up her location until Zimmerman, the lawyer, confirmed that with her.

She didn’t talk again as they made their way to the small airport, not even to ask where they were going.

Lincoln had trusted her, and that’s what had made it easy. That, and his habit of getting into a pattern. Each time he left her alone to use the bathroom, she’d used the phone against his wishes. Lincoln… she blocked the image of him reading her note. She hoped he was pissed off, she hoped he decided she was too much trouble.

Her first calls were to the lawyer. Zimmerman assured her Daddy was out of prison. Then she called the Maldonados, that was the final piece. They’d promised to do what she wanted, so she turned herself in. But it didn’t mean she wasn’t scared.

What would they do with her?

The two men put her on the back of a small plane. They watched her the entire time as a drive that had taken days, one that they’d twisted and turned and backtracked, took about two hours on the plane.

They landed back in Vegas, and she’d never been so sad to see a city in her life. She had lived with a small hope that she could get everything she wanted by running off with Lincoln, but she couldn’t. What she’d get was him killed. She also didn’t want to lead the trouble right to the ranch Lincoln had spent his life working for; she had enough guilt about Daddy. She was not going to lean on another person again. It ruined people’s lives, loving her. She closed her eyes as they landed.

She was pushed, shoved, squeezed for fun, and that was just on the drive back; she knew now exactly where she has headed: The Diamond. Back to Dominic, and probably worse, back to Antonio. She’d killed the man’s son though she hadn’t confessed to it. He did know she was involved. He believed she was to blame, one way or another.

She’d probably never see outside this hotel again. She swallowed hard and thought about Lincoln, her Daddy, Retta, and her animals. If she was going to die, she wanted to have what she loved in her mind. Not fear or worry. It worked to keep the panic at bay, a little anyway.

If the elevator went up, maybe she had a chance, but it didn’t. It went down. The panic grew.

And there she was, back where they’d started. She was in the basement again, where Franco and Donny Barchek had held Lincoln. Back where she’d forced Lincoln into a corner of having to run away with her.

 The bowels of the hotel were impossible, confusing, a maze to her. If she was with Lincoln, maybe she could memorize it, run again? The two men holding on to her arms tightened their grip as if they knew what she was thinking.

They threw her in the same room that she’d killed Franco in.

Her traveling companions stayed in the room with her. They sat on a few folding chairs that looked like they would collapse under their bulk and just watched her. They sneered at her, and she followed their eyes as they stared at her body. She didn’t know what to do with herself. Should she pace? Talk to them?

In the end, she went over to the wall and sat down on the floor and waited. She wrapped her arms around her knees and regretted her decision. This plan had a lot going for it. Daddy would be safe, Lincoln would be safe, but that didn’t make her any less scared. She tried not to think about how or what came next.

It was probably an hour later when the worst-case scenario walked in. Dom. He had a temper and a mean streak, and he’d loved his brother Franco.

“I hate your hair.” Dom spit the words at her as she pushed herself as far back to the wall as she could.

“What are you going to do with me?” Her own voice sounded small and tinny to her. Dom crouched down and got close to her face.

“You’re not asking the questions here.” Dom roughly squeezed her face between his fingers. He grabbed a hunk of her cheek and pinched it hard.

“See first, Donny Barchek goes missing, then that waiter, then my brother. All roads lead to you and your giant fucking bodyguard. I know I promised you I would leave him out of it, but honey, you got one chance to tell me the truth. Save your own skin. You finger him I finger you, but nothing else. Ya like my little play on words?”

“Lincoln didn’t do it.”

“Yeah, who did?” Leslie was about to fess up, tell Dominic what happened with Franco. She knew without a doubt it wasn’t Lincoln because it was her. Maybe he would think she did all three? A call girl who snapped? Was it so farfetched? She was about to spill her guts about Franco when the door to the supply room flung open.

Dom turned to the door, and Leslie peered around him. In walked Lorenz, looking handsome, pulled together, and pissed.

He’d saved her once, but here she was again. Could he do it again? Would he? He knew she’d killed Franco. Clearly, he hadn’t told Dom yet, or their father. But what had he said?

“What are you doing, Dom?” Lorenz walked past the guards and got in Dom’s face.

“I’m about to get the truth out of her about Franco.”

“Oh really, I told you who I think did it.”

“You think it was Donny Barchek because you don’t want me to hurt your little piece of ass here.”

“No. I want the right person to be punished for killing our brother, just like you do. Look at her. She’s a buck twenty-five if that. You expect Franco couldn’t fight her off? He was a pussy, but that’s ridiculous.”

“No, well her meathead boyfriend could have. I know where he is, and he’s next on the list.” Lorenz ignored Dom.

“Stand up, Marilyn.” Lorenz put out a hand and she took it.

“What are you doing?” Dom seemed to be losing control of the room, with Lorenz more easily taking command of the two guards. Lorenz walked her past them as if they weren’t there.

“We’re going upstairs to settle this with Father. I’ve had enough of your bullshit.”

“Fine. You’re about to be dead, sweetheart.” Leslie felt cold gooseflesh ripple across her arms.

“Shut up Dom, you’re getting on my nerves.”

Then he whispered in Leslie’s ear. “Just keep quiet when we get up there.” Lorenz maybe did have a way out for her. A small kernel of hope blossomed as they took the long ride to the top of The Diamond and back to the Presidential Suite.

 ***

Antonio Maldonado was dressed in black. He always was. Leslie feared him more than Dom or Franco. He was the man who would decide if she lived or died, or as Lincoln had warned her once, ship her overseas. It wouldn’t be like working for Petra. She’d be a slave there. She knew that was a distinct possibility. Could they actually sell her? If anyone could, it would be the Maldonados.

Antonio sat behind the desk in an office room of the suite she’d not been in before. She’d spent a few days here with Lorenz.  It was only a few days ago, but it seemed like a lifetime. She was still trying to be a good associate at Vallin Enterprises then. Still thinking that she could fix everything with the money Lorenz had paid her. In a way, she had, if Daddy was indeed in the cancer center, Zimmerman said he was in. What she hadn’t accepted then was the real price she needed to pay: it wasn’t her body, it was her life. She was paying now. She needed to be brave.

“So, we have a dispute to settle, Leslie Detweiler.”

It was strange to hear her real name in this place. She’d always been Marilyn here.

“Dom wants to slaughter this woman and her bodyguard,” Lorenz spoke up.

“Do we have the bodyguard?” Antonio asked Dom.

“No, but that’s not a problem. We can bring him in, especially now that we have her.”

“Except we’re looking to punish the wrong people. That loser Donny Barchek is the one who killed Franco.”

“So um, you have proof? Everyone says he’s dead, missing at the very least.”

“Not yet, but I’m working on it,” Lorenz said.

“What do you have to say for yourself, Leslie?”

“I didn’t kill your son,” Leslie lied. Her only hope was to say very little and follow Lorenz’s lead.

“Well isn’t that nice. It seems we can’t figure out quite what happened to my son. I’d really hate any possible murderer get away with that, so here’s the thing. I’m going to ship you off AND I’m going to kill your boyfriend. If you didn’t do it, I apologize in advance.”

“I’m telling you, I know Barchek did it and my proof is on the way,” Lorenz piped up again.

“Well, when he shows up he’s a dead man too. Now, Leslie, come here.” Antonio stood up and walked to the side of the desk. Lorenz had let her go, and she approached him.

“You are very pretty. I think we’ll have to re-Marilyn you, and you’ll make a lovely gift for a friend of mine. And one more thing.” With no warning, Antonio hit Leslie with the back of his hand and sent her reeling backward. She felt the coppery taste of blood in her mouth. She crawled on all fours as Antonio bore down on her. He crouched down beside her and grabbed a hunk of her hair.

“You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, and if you persist in being a pain in my ass, I’ll kill that Daddy of yours before cancer does. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Take her.” Antonio indicated to her two guards to collect her.

“Not so fast. She’s going to have to go to Petra, and not your friend.” Lorenz put a hand up to the men.

“Why?”

“Because Petra Vallin is how I know Barchek killed Franco.”

“What?” Antonio focused his attention on his son.

“He just wants to save this bitch for some unknown fucking reason.” Dom expressed his exasperation at Leslie not being dead already.

“No. I’m trying to save this business.” Lorenz addressed Dom, “Here.” Lorenz punched a button on the phone on Antonio’s desk. It connected right away.

“Marilyn, are you there?” It was the familiar voice of her former boss, Petra Vallin.

“I am.” Leslie stood up and said it again. “I am.” It was a literal lifeline. That is if Petra wasn’t so angry she wanted her to disappear, too.

“Good, now Antonio. I understand how upset you must be with the current situation, but I expect my employee to be released, unharmed, into my care.”

“I really don’t care what you expect, Ms. Vallin. She either killed my son or knows who did. She’ll need to pay.”

“Antonio, you’re a smart businessman. You wouldn’t be one of the most powerful men in Las Vegas if you were an idiot. I have a few videos that are very, very damaging to Dominic and Franco, rest in peace, if they were to be released to my friends in the media, or perhaps at the justice department.” She let the suggestion hang in the air.

“Are you blackmailing me, Petra? That’s not a good idea.” Antonio was holding onto his temper by a thread. Leslie could see sweat trickling down the back of his neck, the edges of his hair.

“No, I’m just letting you know that I’ll take care of my associate. It is not your right to do so. Rest assured she’ll never cause you any trouble again.”

“What could you possibly have on my sons?”

“Lots of very dirty, very violent behavior, things that have been whispered about for years, but seeing it, on tape, well that’s the kind of thing no father would want to be released, even posthumously.”

“What do you have to do with this?” Antonio turned on Lorenz.

“I happen to know Petra is connected, just as connected as we are. We do not need her against us.” Lorenz quietly worked on his dad. “I told you. I’m fighting for our business here.”

“I’m about to kill her, right now!” Dom had stayed quiet as long as he could apparently.

“Is that your son Dom? I’d call him off!” Petra commanded from the speaker phone.

“Hold on.” Antonio was weighing all the options in front of him.

“Lorenz, get her out of here. Dom, start hunting for Barchek, this whore hunt of yours is over.”

“Father, it’s a smart choice. Vallin is a good friend to have,” Lorenz whispered to Antonio.

“Now Petra, let’s talk about that tape.” Antonio was focused on Petra and making a deal. It appeared he had forgotten Leslie even existed. That was the best-case scenario for her.

Leslie decided not to wait. With no other orders issued, she was getting the hell out of this hotel, out of Vegas, before someone changed their minds. She’d dashed out of here before and she’d do it again.

As she hustled out, Dom grabbed her arm. She gasped at his tight grip on her.

“Don’t get too comfortable, Marilyn. Ever.” From behind, Lorenz broke Dom’s hold and pushed her forward.

They were in the hall and then the elevator in a flash while Petra and Antonio presumably continued to haggle over the dirt Petra had on them. Leslie didn’t care, as long as she was out of there.

Lorenz pressed the button for the lobby, then put a hand on her shoulder.

“How are you doing? He hit you pretty good there.” Lorenz stroked her cheek. She’d forgotten about it when Petra called.

“I’m okay. I’m alive. That’s because of you.” Leslie turned and hugged Lorenz. She maybe could have fallen in love with him if circumstances were different. Though she’d never fit in this world, this high rise, Vegas, or this slick, suit-wearing city, ever. He smoothed her hair.

“It’s because of Petra. She called me as soon as Dom grabbed you. She said she had evidence that would help me squeeze Dom. She’s been frantic to find you, just like Dom was actually.”

“Why?”

“She always protects her people. She knew you and Lincoln were no match for what Dom was going to throw at you.”  They walked into the crowded and opulent lobby.

“I just can’t believe I got out of there. I thought he was going to kill me.”

 Leslie was stunned that her fortunes had turned so quickly. They walked from the lobby out to the front of the hotel, each layer between her Dom and Antonio helping her breath, letting her feel like it might work out.

“We’re not out of the building yet. Let’s keep walking. You need to get out of Vegas and stay out.”

“Agreed.”  But she stopped their dash through the lobby at the hotel doors. She hugged Lorenz again.

“Lorenz, I hate to ask, but how am I going to get to a bus station? Currently, I have no cash, no car, nothing.” Leslie started to realize she was rather stranded in Vegas.

“This gentleman’s here to help you with that. Good luck, honey. Stay out of trouble.”

“You too.” Leslie turned to find a car and driver she’d never seen.

A giant hulk of a man had pushed open the door to the car.

“Get in. We’re out of here.” Lorenz nudged her forward and shut the door, and before she could say a word, the tires squealed and they were off into traffic.

Leslie looked at the driver. He seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place him.

“Who are you? Do you work for Lorenz? Or Petra?” He looked like he could be one of her security team.

“My name’s Roosevelt. And I don’t work for anyone. I’m doing my brother a favor. Now buckle that seat belt.”