Vanity, Vengeance And A Weekend In Vegas Part 22

Vanity, Vengeance And A Weekend In Vegas Part 22

I stared at her. This was so unlike her. She sighed, clearly impatient with my lack of response, and pulled me toward the elevator.

We didn't say much as we picked a few things from the mess in our rooms and put them in Anatoly's duffle bag, and I didn't say a word when she led me out of the hotel and worked with the valet to get us a town car for a decent price. I was paying more for town cars than I had paid for my hotel and plane tickets combined.

I held onto my silence for the first half of the drive to Alex's house. Confusion had knocked some of the anger out of me. It wasn't just the mystery of who was after Anatoly that was nagging at me. It was my friends' behavior. Marcus I sort of understood. He had been an At-Risk-Youth before he came to terms with his s.e.xual orientation and he had a serious soft spot for dysfunctional, self-destructive closet cases. I thought extending that soft spot to members of the mafia was taking things a bit far, but that was Marcus.

But this wasn't Dena. Dena restricted her wild behavior to her s.e.xual encounters. When it came to the rest of her life she was amazingly level headed. And yet here she was, encouraging me to spend the night in the home of a mafia affiliate who might also be planning something akin to murder.

I studied her profile. She was staring straight ahead, twisting her cane around and around in her hand.




"This never-say-never thing," I said slowly as I watched the movement of her cane, "does it have anything to do with Fawn or...what happened to you?"

Even in the dark I could see Dena's nostrils flare. "I was shot in the back," she said quietly. "I had to relearn how to walk and while you were out there trying to bring my shooter to justice I was in a hospital bed staring at the ceiling. I wasn't given the opportunity to so much as lift a finger to set things right. I had to let others do that for me while I lay there...I was...helpless."

She said the word helpless the way others might say the word vomit or excrement. I bit down on my lip and tried to take her hand but she jerked away.

"Now we have Fawn's brother," Dena said, the sarcasm dripping from her voice, "and he wants to help. He's really, really sorry about almost setting you up for murder, for lying to you about who he is and who he's related to but now, now we're supposed to trust him. He wants you to put your fate in his hands. You're right, I could have tried to talk you out of this and I could have pretended to believe you after making you swear to stay away from him. I could totally turn my back on all of this and let you deal with this mess by yourself, because clearly you're not walking away. I could put myself in a position where I can't help you...where I'm...helpless. Or," she turned to me and the fire that was coming from within her was almost bright enough to illuminate the whole backseat, "I could help you. I have a choice this time. I'm choosing the latter."

"Well," I breathed, "I guess that's settled then."

"Yeah, I guess it is."

Again we fell into silence, but this time it was a silence I understood.

CHAPTER 20.

"The thing about betrayal is that it can only come from people you trust completely."

--Death Of The Party Alex didn't seem surprised to see me, although he was taken off guard by Dena. He listened with sympathy as I told him about the break in and about how Natasha had kidnapped me. "She's a wh.o.r.e," he said smoothly. It was a sweet lie calculated to win my favor. It almost worked but now I was on my guard. He was the viper in Rome's bosom. I couldn't trust anything he said without proof. Margarita wasn't there which is what I had been counting on. The less people in the house the easier it would be to snoop. Besides, Margarita creeped me out. There was just something very off about her.

He offered both Dena and me our own room and Dena insisted on going to bed right away as Alex and I had c.o.c.ktails in his study. I knew Dena wasn't really in bed. People often harbored the misguided a.s.sumption that those who used a cane couldn't be stealthy, but Dena was the queen of stealth when she wanted to be. Late tonight, while Alex slept, I would try to look in the rooms she missed.

"How did you get away from Natasha?" Alex asked as he poured me yet another gla.s.s of his sipping vodka.

"It wasn't that hard. She drove me all the way out to some national park in the middle of the desert but all she wanted was to scare me into leaving Vegas. Now that she has Anatoly--"

"She has Anatoly?" Alex interrupted. "Since when?"

"He called her while I was with her. I could just tell that he's back with her by the way they were talking. I'm done with him." I raised my gla.s.s above my head. "Here's to new beginnings."

Alex kept his gla.s.s by his side. "Are you leaving Vegas then?"

"Tomorrow."

"Where are the rest of your friends?"

"Back in San Francisco. They all had their tickets to leave tonight. Dena and I originally had tickets for tonight too but she had our flight switched to tomorrow back when I thought there was something to stay for." A poker player is only as good as his ability to bluff, I thought to myself. Alex didn't need to know how much backup I had here in this city. He certainly didn't need to know that I had seen Anatoly. For once I would be the one with the secrets and he would be the one to show his hand.

But as I watched him stare into the fire I wondered how much he had really kept from me. His lies had all been lies of omission and when I asked more pointed questions he had answered them and every answer had checked out so far. What was it that made this man less worthy of my respect than Anatoly? Was it that he was currently with the mafia while Anatoly had left? Because really, even if Anatoly did leave the mafia he was certainly back in the thick of it now.

"You never told me why they killed your brother," I said quietly.

For a few seconds Alex just continued to stare into the fire. Then he walked over to the piano in the corner. "This was Kenya's piano." He let his fingers run over the smooth, polished wood. I hadn't noticed before but it shone like no other object in the room. It had been polished and cared for like...well like the memorial it probably was.

"I bought it for him," he continued. "He loved to play but he never had a decent piano."

"He had that one," I noted.

Alex shook his head. "I never got the chance to give it to him." After a moment's thought he put his gla.s.s on top of the instrument. "It'll leave a ring," he said softly. "I've been taking such good care of it but you know, what's the point? If I had given it to Kenya he would have treated it as carelessly as he treated everything else in his life...including his life."

"He was younger than you, right?"

Alex nodded. "Fawn's my mother's daughter and Kenya was my father's son. Maybe if my father was still around he could have convinced the family to keep him alive."

"Why did they kill him, Alex?"

Alex picked up his drink and put it back down on another part of the piano. "They thought he helped Anatoly bring the FBI agent into the fold."

I hesitated, momentarily impressed. Once again his story was matching up with what I knew...sort of. Natasha had suggested that the mafia never suspected Anatoly at all, but still it was close enough, right?

He was telling me everything and Anatoly was telling me nothing.

"If you're serious about not wanting to reconcile with Anatoly...well, I respect that," he continued. "But if you know where he is I'd like to talk to him."

"Why?"

"I want to know if the mafia was right,' he said simply. "If Kenya really did help Anatoly bring that agent in then at least I'd know he wasn't killed for nothing."

"That still wouldn't make it okay for them to have killed him!"

"No...but if a soldier starts collaborating with the enemy you can't exactly blame his battalion for dealing with him."

"You would forgive the mafia for killing your brother." That small flash of respect and trust I had felt for him flew out the window.

"No, but I would understand it." He turned to me with pleading eyes. "You have a sister, right? Can you imagine if she died and you weren't able to figure out why it had happened? I can't get him back. All I can get is understanding. I won't turn Anatoly in to the others but I deserve the truth. So do you."

And just like that I was impressed again. "I don't know where he is."

Alex nodded and glanced at a clock hanging near the fireplace. "It's late. Perhaps we should both call it a night and talk more in the morning?"

I got to my feet. "When we talk in the morning can we talk about Margarita?"

Alex smirked. "I'm not sleeping with her, if that's what you're wondering."

"Yeah, it wasn't. I was wondering why she was in my hotel lobby this morning and how it is that a housekeeper can afford expensive jewelry and designer apparel."

"Ah," Alex smiled again, this time ruefully. "Well, I said you deserved the truth. We'll talk about Margarita tomorrow. She works for me in several different capacities."

"Sounds kinky," I teased.

He laughed. "It's not, I promise you."

"OK, I'll take your word for it...for now. Thanks again for letting us stay here."

"Not a problem," he said, taking my now empty gla.s.s. As he opened the door for me he chuckled. "I can't believe Natasha drove you all the way out to Red Rock Canyon just to make a point."

I stopped. "Did I tell you that she took me out to Red Rock?"

Alex blinked. "I'm sorry, I just a.s.sumed. There aren't too many national parks within driving distance of here."

"Oh, right." That made sense, right? After all, if he had been following me he would have known that I had been with Anatoly at Red Rock, not Natasha.

We walked up the stairs together. The guest rooms Dena and I were staying in were to the right of the stairs and his room to the left, all the way at the other end of the hall. Again, I marveled at how large this house was.

He pulled me in for a hug and kissed me on the cheek. "You don't have to stay in the guestroom, you know," he said teasingly.

I pulled away and stared up into those perfect green eyes. No, I didn't trust him. I wasn't sure if I even liked him. But disliking him was getting harder. "I'm going to stick with the guestroom."

"Can't blame a guy for trying."

"Mmm," I said noncommittally. I thought of Tanya in that closet, a bullet hole in her forehead. He had once planned to pin that murder on me...but he didn't. Did that count for anything?

"Goodnight Alex."

He stood at the top of the stairs and watched as I went into my room.

As I closed the door I got a text from Dena: I'm back in my room and just got off the phone with Leah. Your mom found the USB stick

CHAPTER 21.

"I can rarely find the things I'm looking for but I frequently stumble across things I forgot I needed."

--Death Of The Party It was everything I could do not to rush back into the hall and pound on Dena's door but I had to wait until I was sure Alex was in his room. I sat down on the deep red area rug and dialed her. "Tell me!" I whispered as she picked up.

"Did they really bug your house?" Dena asked cryptically. "Do you think they do that often?"

I looked around the room as if I was going to actually be able to spot a recording device. "Um, who knows? I was just calling to say goodnight."

"Night-night then," Dena said cheerfully before hanging up.

As soon as we were disconnected I sent her a text: TELL ME!!!.

Dena sent me a response so long it came in the form of three consecutive texts. Basically Anatoly had cut out a small section of a soccer book and put an USB stick in it. Leah was now slowly walking my mother through the process of sending all the files on it as an attachment to Leah's email (with both my computers gone it was likely that my email account was compromised). Leah was working from the computers in Encore's business center and would send Dena the information for her to read from her iPad. Still, I shouldn't expect anything concrete until the morning.

The next series of texts told me that Dena had checked the rooms on our side of the staircase and found nothing of interest. Tomorrow she thought she might check everything on the other side if I could distract Alex again.

I was still dying to rush into her room but it seemed imprudent. After all, Alex thought Dena had been asleep for over an hour now. How would it look if he caught me rushing into her room for a late night chat?

Reluctantly I sent her a text telling her to get some sleep. We set our alarms for five a.m. so we could talk and maybe do some more investigating before Alex woke up.

I glanced around my temporary bedroom. It was beautifully appointed with lots of dark leather and mahogany, just like everywhere else in the house. When we had first arrived he made a point of asking if I needed a toothbrush or a bathrobe. I had already packed the former and didn't need the latter. My room had a bathroom attached to it while Dena was invited to use the bathroom a few doors down. There were a lot of bathrooms in this house. If he ever served bad fish at a dinner party his guests would have no problem finding a private s.p.a.ce to be sick in.

I locked my door and then stood by the window in my nightgown and looked out at the grounds. The sky was that dusky black color that allowed it to hide all its secrets.

Where was Anatoly now?

I opened the window so I could feel the cool air against my face. "Are you okay?" I whispered out into the dark. "Are you coming back to me?"

The wind whispered its reply but I couldn't make sense of it. The air was cold against my cheek. Not at all like a kiss or an a.s.surance. Nothing I could hold onto.

I lay down in the bed. I wanted to feel him next to me. Instead I squeezed one of the extra pillows to my chest and waited for sleep that I pretty much knew wasn't coming.

An hour pa.s.sed, then two. A book would have helped. I could have asked Alex for a book. I was sure he was in bed by now, probably asleep. The house had that unnatural quiet that only comes after everyone has retired.

And if everyone was asleep then I should probably be awake looking through his things.

I picked up the gun and stepped out into the hallway. It was pitch black and I didn't know where the light switch was. I considered knocking on Dena's door but again decided not to. I owed her a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. I also needed to a.s.sure myself that Alex was asleep. If there was even a flicker of light under his door or any sound coming from his room other than snoring I needed to get back to bed immediately.

I knew the way to Alex's room. I kept my hand against the wall to guide me. As I walked my eyes began to adjust. It felt weird, wearing a light, romantic nightgown, holding a gun and feeling my way around a strange house like a blind man.

I knew when I was close, not because I could really see anything, but because I heard the voices. Alex's voice...and...and someone else's. I stood as still as a statue and strained to decipher the words. They were keeping their voices very low so it was hard. I held my breath and tried again. Oh, now I knew why I wasn't picking up a single word. They were speaking in Spanish, Alex and Margarita.

Well that was hardly a surprise. I knew Margarita was too gorgeous for Alex to resist no matter what he said....except...the tones weren't right. There was nothing romantic or melodic in their murmurs, in fact, if I had to guess, I'd say she was pretty p.i.s.sed and he was appeasing and...and nervous. This didn't sound like a lover's quarrel. I've had enough of those to recognize them in any language. This lacked the note of hysteria and personal pain that was universal to those kinds of arguments. In fact, if this conversation wasn't taking place in a bedroom in the middle of the night I might have thought it was a boss telling off an employee.

And what was really interesting was that I would have thought Margarita was the boss. I stepped a little closer to the door. I still couldn't understand the words but the tones...Alex wasn't just nervous...he was scared s.h.i.tless.

If I was wrong and this was a lover's quarrel then I had a lot to learn from Margarita. She owned his a.s.s.

Margarita's voice was getting easier to hear...but she wasn't raising her volume. Oh s.h.i.t, she was getting closer to the door. I jumped into another room and pressed myself up against the wall.

I could hear Margarita's heels click down the hallway. I waited for the sound of Alex following but it didn't come. After a few minutes I thought I heard the sound of the front door opening and closing, but it was so faint I could have been wrong. A moment later I heard the sound of Alex's door closing. Two possibilities there, he had walked out of his room and closed the door behind him (I couldn't think of a good reason to do that unless you were expecting company and the room was a mess) or he had closed himself in, which made more sense. Still, I couldn't afford to take a chance.

I stood there in the black room, my back pressed flat against the wall and listened as my eyes once again adjusted to the darkness.

Unfortunately the only light was coming from the charcoal sky outside. I could see the outline of a desk and a chair against the window. That was about it. I took a couple of tentative steps forward, my bare feet felt the hardwood floor give way to a softer area rug and I scrunched up my toes against the fibers.

The house was silent again but I knew Alex was still awake. People didn't just go to sleep after arguments like that.