Five
Anton was in Caesars Palace having lunch at Nobu with a man he knew only as Mr. Stewart. In the past two months, Anton had lost ten girls from a three-state area and needed replacements. It wasn’t uncommon. In his line of work, deaths were usually attributed to suicide or drugs, and Stewart was also another supplier for replacements.
Stewart had flagged down a waiter to ask for more sauce for his food, so their conversation was on pause when Anton caught two pretty young things staring at him from a few tables away. He lifted his glass to them in a toast, which made them giggle and look away. He looked good and he knew it. It was moments like this that fed his vanity. He took another bite of his yellowtail tuna and returned his attention to his lunch partner.
The waiter left, and Stewart resumed their conversation about the time line for the new shipment when Anton’s phone rang. When he saw the number pop up, he stood quickly and picked up the phone.
“My apologies, Mr. Stewart, but I need to take this,” Anton said and walked into a hallway leading toward the restrooms, talking as he went.
“Alicia? Go ahead.”
Alicia Alvarez was Luis’s sister. He trusted Luis to guard Star, but having his sister as a plant in the Las Vegas Police Department was also proving to be worthwhile.
“I have information for you,” she said.
“About my son?”
“No. Something you need to know about the people who died in that car fire.”
“What about them?” Anton asked.
“They were federal agents.”
Anton’s heart skipped a beat.
“You’re sure.”
“Yes, sir. There’s no mistake.”
“Thank you, Alicia.”
“Yes, sir.”
He disconnected, dropped his phone back in his pocket and then lifted his chin and returned to the dining area. His stomach was in knots now, wondering what the Feds already knew.
And that’s when the final link of the enormity of this situation hit him. His chef. The one who’d left with Star the night she escaped. He’d just assumed she was a do-gooder who had taken pity on Star’s situation and helped her get away. But this changed everything! She’d been a plant, he realized—a mole in his home who had cooked his meals, lived under his roof, even banking the money he paid her with full intentions of taking him down. He was furious that he had been taken in. God only knew what she had learned while she was there or what Star had already told her. The smartest thing to do would be to cut his losses right now and get out of the country. He could run the business from anywhere. But the longer he thought about it, the more he hesitated. What could she have learned, really? Nothing they could convict him with, surely. He didn’t do business at home, ever. Even if Star already told the Feds how she came to be with him, she wasn’t going to tell it again on a witness stand, thinking she would be sending her family to certain death. As soon as he got his hands on her he was going to end her conversations permanently.
The one thing he knew he had to do was to back off the woman who’d taken Sammy to the cops. Sending Dev after her had gotten him killed. The police clearly understood his involvement, and if he made another mistake, they’d be able to pin it on him. He needed to regroup. The most immediate goal was to get Star out of the hospital. Once she was gone, the Feds’ case would be back to square one. He returned to his lunch meeting and slid back into his seat with a nod to Mr. Stewart.
“Duty calls,” he said apologetically. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to forgo dessert, but please, order anything you want. Lunch is on me.”
Stewart shook his head.
“That’s very generous of you, but I’ll pass.” He patted his bulging belly to make his point. “It was a pleasure to see you again. I’ll be in touch with a firm delivery date soon.”
Anton nodded, dropped a handful of hundred-dollar bills on the table and left as Stewart finished eating his meal.
* * *
It was afternoon at the hospital, and the nurses were making the rounds picking up lunch trays. Visitors were coming and going. Some old man was shouting for help over and over at the far end of the hall, and the door to Star’s room was ajar enough that she heard everything. She could tell her back was beginning to heal because the pain had lessened. But the rub to her situation right now was the guard outside her room. He was blatantly leering.
It pissed her off that she felt so vulnerable when all she wanted to do was go to the bathroom. What he needed was an attitude adjustment. So she got out of bed, purposefully letting the top of her hospital gown slip just enough to reveal a good portion of her right breast. She held on to her belly as she moved, trying not to hurt her ribs, and paused at the doorway and stared back.
He seemed startled that she was challenging his rudeness.
“Your name is Luis, right?” she asked.
He grinned.
“On the money, honey.”
“Just wanted to make sure I thank Anton for your...services,” she said shortly and then stepped back and pushed the door closed enough that he could no longer look in, leaving him to wonder what damage she might do to his status with the boss.
Then she heard his phone ring, and instead of going to the bathroom, she stayed to listen.
Luis answered immediately, and when he began saying “yes, sir” and “no, sir” in rapid-fire answers, she knew he was talking to Anton.
“Yes, sir. She just had lunch. No, sir, she’s up and moving around. Okay...yes, I’ll be here. Are you coming to get her yourself, or are you sending someone?”
Star’s knees nearly went out from under her.
Sweet Mother of God, Anton was coming. Why the sudden rush? He must have learned about the Feds.
She turned away in panic. There was no way to contact Gleason, and she had no idea who their plant was on the floor. She should have known not to assume she was safe, but what the hell could she do? She slipped away from the door and began going through the drawers and closets in a panic to find her clothes, only to remember they’d cut them off of her in the ER.
She had to get out, but how? Then she spotted her lunch tray and had an idea. She palmed a plastic knife, grabbed the tray and threw it to the floor, scattering dirty dishes and leftover food everywhere. The glass that had held her iced tea shattered on the tile, and she gritted her teeth before purposefully stepping on the broken glass. Then she let out a cry just loud enough to alert Luis, as a shard pierced the bottom of one foot.
Within seconds he was inside her room, his hand on his gun.
“What happened?” he asked.
She was doubled over and pointing at the blood seeping out between her toes.
“I knocked my stupid tray over and stepped on the broken glass. Can you help me get to the bed?”
“Yeah, sure,” Luis said, putting his handgun back in the shoulder holster under his jacket and scooping her up in his arms.
She winced as his grip tightened on the bandages on her back. Her hospital gown had slipped even more, revealing most of one breast. Her cheeks flushed as he leered at her and grinned.
“Nice tits.”
Her eyes narrowed. It was the only warning the man would get before she plunged the plastic knife into the softest portion of his throat.
He gasped, unable to scream. His eyes were wide with shock and pain as he began clawing at the knife. She landed on her feet, grabbed his gun from the holster and swung the butt of it at his face before he even knew it was gone. His nose shattered beneath the impact.
Luis dropped to his knees and grabbed his nose, moaning as blood from both wounds spilled between his fingers.
She grabbed the empty food tray off the floor and broke it over his head. He crumpled to the floor, unconscious and bleeding.
Frantically she tore off his jacket and shirt, pulled the belt from his pants, then emptied his pockets.
The first thing she went for was his wallet. She removed all the cash, then dropped the hospital gown at her feet and pulled the piece of glass from her foot and tried not to think of what she was doing.
Standing stark naked on the far side of her bed, she put on his shirt. The shirttail barely brushed the top of her knees, but it was long enough to hide her bare body beneath. She wrapped the belt around her waist twice then fastened it off. It was a poor excuse for a dress but it worked. The blood splatters on the collar and down the front were obvious but she hid them with the jacket. She put the gun in one jacket pocket and zipped it up, then dropped the money into another. His boots were way too big for her to wear, so she was going out of here barefoot in the fastest way possible.
But how to do this without being caught?
The moment she focused on the cigarette lighter, she knew what she was going to do. She pulled a section of newspaper from the trash, wadded it up and lit it on fire, then dropped it back into the metal can, knowing the rest of the trash was going to catch fire, too. She took off out the door, keeping her head down as she headed for the stairs.
She made it as far as the Exit sign by the stairwell when the sprinkler system went off on the fourth floor. A spurt of panic made her move faster. She had to get out before the fire alarm sounded and the staff shut down the floor. She pushed through the door into the stairwell at a run, stumbling down the stairs. Seconds later the fire alarms activated. With one hand gripping the handrail and her other flattened against sore ribs, she leaped, taking the steps down two and three at a time.
She reached the ground floor and came out into a lobby that was in total chaos. Firemen came running in the front doors as she was running to get out. From the corner of her eye, she saw a pair of slippers in the gift shop window and darted into the shop, grabbed the shoes from the display and ran. There was so much panic around her that no one saw it happen.
* * *
Nick had been smelling food out on the floor for a while now and guessed they were making the rounds delivering lunch. A few minutes later the door opened and Quinn’s nurse came in with a tray.
“Hey, Betty.”
“Hello, Detective... I have a tray for you, too,” she said and glanced at Quinn. “Sleeping, is she?”
“I appreciate the food, and yes, she’s been sleeping awhile. I’ll wake her up and help her to the bathroom,” he said.
Betty went back for the second tray and set it on the ledge below the window.
“It’s meat loaf, one of our better efforts. Enjoy.”
“Thanks,” Nick said. Then he popped a pain pill and washed it down with a drink of iced tea from his tray.
Betty quickly checked Quinn’s vitals and then left as Nick leaned over to wake her up. Asleep, and with no makeup, she looked like the little girl he’d once known. Only this woman was no longer a child, and he wondered what it would take to bridge the secrets in the darkness in which she lived. Her skin looked so soft, her lips so tempting—Whoa, where had that come from? Spending all this time by her side, protecting her again—he somehow felt connected to her, as though they’d been destined to find each other after all this time. But it would be taking advantage of her helplessness if he gave in to this sudden yearning, so he settled for a gentle stroke of his fingers on the side of her forehead instead.
She sighed.
He ran the back of his finger down the side of her cheek and thought how the little Queenie he’d known had done a fine job of growing up.
“Wake up, Your Majesty. Lunch has been served.”
Quinn roused, then winced as she rolled over.
“What did you say?”
“Lunch is here. Want to go to the bathroom first?”
“Yes.”
He let down the guardrail and pulled back the covers as she struggled to sit up.
“Let me help,” he said and eased her into a sitting position and then out of bed.
“I don’t need—” she started to say.
Nick winked. “But I do. Hold on to my arm.”
She moaned when the room began to spin.
“I guess I need help after all,” she said and grabbed his arm.
Nick waited as she steadied herself, and then he walked her to the bathroom door. After she went inside, he moved a distance away to give her privacy. As he was waiting, he remembered another time when they were together just like this. She’d gotten sick and wound up in a hospital, dehydrated from constant nausea. He had been afraid she was going to die. When she finally came home, he sneaked into her room after lights were out and slept on the floor beside her bed, afraid to leave her on her own.
Although he hadn’t thought of her in years until she rode back in his world, that same feeling of responsibility and devotion he’d had for her then had come back in spades.
Moments later the bathroom door opened, and he let go of the past and went to meet her. She was pale and trembling, but the tentative smile she gave him made his heart thump.
“Thanks,” Quinn said and made her way back to bed with his help.
She was super conscious of his body looming beside her. She was tall, but she had to look up to see his face. His shoulders were wide and his strength was evident. She wondered what it would feel like to be held within his arms. She still couldn’t believe she’d found him again, and while life had taught her not to believe in happy endings, she was glad he was here for her now.
Quinn wrinkled her nose as she removed the cover from her food. It didn’t look any better than it smelled, but Nick’s palate was obviously not as picky. He was already chewing his first bite.
He noticed she wasn’t eating and grinned.
“Wait until you taste it. Kudos to the cooks for saving the salt for another day.”
She smiled at his joke. He seemed to be such a happy man. She forked a green bean and put it in her mouth, then wrinkled her nose again. He was right. It needed salt, but she’d been hungry too many times in her life to quibble about seasoning.
They ate in mutual silence for a couple of minutes, and then Nick paused to take a drink and caught Quinn looking at him.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said quickly, poking at the meat loaf and taking a small bite.
“Then I’ll start,” Nick said.
Quinn looked puzzled.
“Start what?”
“Asking the questions that fill in the blanks.”
But Quinn didn’t want to talk about her life and headed him off in another direction.
“No, I’ll ask the questions,” she said with a smile. “Have you ever been married?”
“No, but engaged once,” Nick said and took another bite of meat loaf.
“What happened?” Quinn asked.
“She changed her mind and joined the army. She chose Uncle Sam over me.”
Quinn smiled.
“You’re a funny one, aren’t you? I don’t remember that about you.”
“I figured out early on that if I made the jokes and laughed first, then it didn’t matter what anyone else said or did. I was the one calling the shots. And my aunt and uncle helped. They gave me confidence. Knowing they’d come looking for me made me feel wanted. And when they took me home with them, I took heart from the fact that I’d been chosen. I finally mattered to someone.”
“I know I was just a little kid, but you always mattered to me,” Quinn said, then quickly reached for her glass and took a sip of iced tea to keep from tearing up.
“Thank you,” Nick said. “Now it’s my turn. What are you running away from?”
He saw her flinch, and then her head came up, her eyes narrowing before she looked away.
“The devil,” she muttered and shoved her tray table away.
“Who was he to you?”
“My last foster father.”
Nick realized almost instantly that she didn’t want to talk about this. As much as he wanted to know, to understand, he didn’t want to upset her.
“Do you still like peanut butter and honey sandwiches?” he asked.
She blinked. Where had that come from? Then she saw the compassion in his eyes and was instantly grateful he’d backed away from the tough questions.
“Yes, on white bread.”
He grinned. “I think I remember, the gummier the bread was, the better you liked it.”
She laughed.
“As long as it’s white, I’m good,” she said.
“Where did you graduate high school?” he asked.
“Still in Chicago, just a different suburb. Is your family close by?”
“Yes. They live here in the city. They’re finally retired and spend all their time and money spoiling their four grandkids.”
Quinn was staring again, fascinated by the changing expressions on his face as he talked.
“How many children do they have...counting you?”
He scooped up a spoonful of some kind of fruit pie and aimed it at her mouth.
“Open,” he said, and she did. “Four...counting me,” he added. “Santino is just older than me. He and Lara have two little boys who look and act just like him. Melina and her husband, Aidan, have one baby girl, and Francisco and Donita have a girl. She’s about three, I think. I can’t wait for you to meet everyone, especially Aunt Juana and Uncle Tonio.”
Quinn’s chest tightened. Meet his family? What will they think of a woman like me?
“They won’t approve. I’m wired all wrong,” she said and then picked up her spoon and took another bite of his dessert.
“Bullshit. You don’t know them, so don’t go getting yourself all worked up for nothing.” He handed her his dessert and took hers. He scooped up a bite and popped it in his mouth, then winked, trying to tease the shadows from her eyes. “Ha. Got the first bite from both of them.”
Quinn paused, watching how laughter lit up his face, then finished the dessert.
Once they were done, Nick stacked their trays and set them aside to be picked up later. Another nurse named Trina came in to check Quinn’s wound, which changed the mood in the room.
Quinn reached for Nick’s hand, clenching it as the nurse began removing the bandage to be replaced. She grimaced at the spots where it was stuck, mutely bearing the pain.
The nurse was finally through and getting ready to leave when out of nowhere the sprinkler systems came on and began to soak the room. A few seconds later the fire alarm went off.
“Stay here,” Trina cried and ran out of the room.
Before Nick could react, Quinn came out of the bed like she’d been shot all over again and ran for the door.
Nick caught her in his arms.
“Wait, honey, wait! She told us to stay here.”
But Quinn was frantic. The water in her face had triggered the panic. Her heart was pounding; her breath was coming in gasps. She’d lost all sense of reality and in her mind was trying not to die.
“Let me go! Let me go!” she screamed. “You’re going to drown me!”
Shocked, Nick immediately turned her loose and stepped back, holding his hands up in the air while the water rained down upon them.
“Look at me, Quinn! Look! I’m not holding you. I’m not touching you.”
She covered her face.
“Make the water stop. Please make the water stop.”
He had no idea what had triggered this panic in her, but ran into the bathroom, yanked the plastic shower curtain from the hooks and came back to find her squatting in a corner of the room with her hands over her head. He crouched down beside her and pulled the shower curtain over the both of them as the water continued to pour.
“It’s okay now. There’s no water on your face. You’re safe.” But Quinn just moaned and kept rocking back and forth.
“Damn it,” he said softly and pulled her into his arms. To his surprise, she didn’t resist but collapsed against him, her face buried against his chest.
Just as suddenly as the sprinklers had come on, they went off. Nick tossed the curtain aside, then picked her up and took her to the recliner.
He didn’t talk as he held her close. There was nothing to say. He’d seen enough PTSD to recognize a flashback. He didn’t know why she reacted to water in her face, or who was responsible for the trauma, but he would find out. He was damn good at finding the bad guys.