Double-Crossed Page 10

  “I doubt anyone on our payroll is a scumbag the likes of Caterina Terzo.”

  He took a sip of his drink as he waited for Remi to formulate a reply. It was best to let her think.

  “What is a nineteen-year-old doing planning a murder for hire, and how is that related to Caterina?”

  “Maybe they were kissing cousins,” he said, and Remi snorted. “I’ll email you these texts in case you’re interested in a sideline as a lesbian erotica writer. This kid certainly got around, and it’s clear she slept with Victor as a favor to Caterina.”

  “The cops know that and they don’t find it strange that Victor’s dead? And why aren’t they questioning Caterina?”

  “I’m working on the answers to those questions, but for now all I know is they have another theory of the crime. The texts that weren’t filled with all their sexual desires were about how Lolita was supposed to get Victor to commit to hiring someone to kill his wife.”

  Remi laughed and he had to join her. “Isn’t Victor’s widow Diego Moretti’s daughter?”

  “The one and only Sofia. Diego and Paolo are in town and already had the cops call on them.”

  “I don’t know that family well, but they aren’t known for their finesse.”

  “No, but that’s good for everyone. With the addition of the Terzos and the Morettis, it gives the detectives investigating all this some enticing targets that aren’t us. It does open up the question of why Caterina wanted Sofia dead, though.”

  “The only thing that comes to mind is Caterina wanted Victor under her thumb, and we can all guess why. The Terzos are moving plenty of product for the drug cartels and their bosses, but they’re also on the radar for the meth labs the family personally owns. They’re producing enough product to supply Nevada and the neighboring states, and they’re using the biker gangs to move all that. The rumor even here in New Orleans is they’re close to cornering the market.”

  “You’re like the Encyclopædia Britannica.” He gave his son a thumbs-up when he raised his glove to show he’d caught a ball he’d thrown into the air. Tres frowned when Sylvia came out and got him. That meant his fun was over for the night and a bath and bed were in his future.

  “I’d like to think I’m more up-to-date than that.” She laughed.

  “Don’t worry. I’ve had some of our guys keeping an eye on those operations in case they get out of hand. The problem is Caterina and the Terzos are good at making inroads here and south of the border, which means if they get any bigger, it’ll be next to impossible to overcome the juggernaut. All that cash, though, has to be washed somewhere, and Victor must’ve been Caterina’s plan for that big problem. The Moroccan is just low-key enough not to get the authorities’ attention, but big enough to wash the money. If their operation gets bigger, though, they’ll needed someone else, and that’s where Victor probably came in.”

  “Let me see what Dallas’s timeline is, and if she’s not ready, I might come up early.”

  “We’ve got it under control, so wait for her. A couple more days might give us time to get a better idea of what all this was about. My money’s on Sofia if this was a hit.”

  “You know the players better than anyone, so I’m keeping my money. And if it was a simple hit ordered by the wife, things should cool down pretty fast unless it becomes a turf war. Call if you need anything.”

  “You’re number one on my speed dial.” Mano hung up and called his guard. “Have you called it a night yet?”

  “You need to go out?” Hugo asked, sounding as alarmed as he always did when Mano went somewhere alone.

  “No, I’d like to save myself from Sylvia kicking my ass if I left the house tonight. I just got off the phone with Remi and wanted to see if you got anything new.” He walked around and made sure all the doors and windows were locked.

  “Our contact at the gaming commission says they’ve heard rumors that Robert Wallace is trying to position himself to take over for Victor. He barely waited for Victor’s body to get cold before he called the Terzos.” The background noise dimmed as Hugo went somewhere quieter. “Those cops seemed to have moved on and are going to close the investigation. Victor will go down as a dumbass with questionable morals, but they don’t think there was any foul play.”

  “Remi and I have our doubts about that, especially after the text messages I read. It did look like an accidental overdose, so their next play will probably be to question Caterina about those texts about the wife. There’s nothing to confirm Victor made any move on that, but there’s plenty to tie Caterina to that planning even if her accomplice is dead.”

  “No one can accuse the cops of complete genius all the time, but then, that’s why we’re so successful. I agree with you, though, and I think they’re putting that word out so whoever’s responsible will trip themselves up. Right now I’m at Bellagio talking to some old friends to see what else shakes loose. I’ll be there in the morning to pick you up, so don’t leave without me.”

  “I wouldn’t dare.” The night was warm, and he stared at the thermometer Sylvia had hung outside close to the door, but he didn’t mind the heat of Vegas as much as most. He hung up and listened to the cicadas buzzing.

  “Want to pretend we don’t have two kids sleeping in the house and go skinny-dipping?” Sylvia wrapped her arms around his waist from behind.

  He turned around and kissed her. Sylvia was a true partner, and he couldn’t imagine ever betraying her like Victor had with Sofia. “I love you, and I never turn down any opportunity to see you naked.”

  “You have a silver tongue in that mouth, lover.” Sylvia ran her hands down his chest and unbuckled his belt. “Time to prove it.”

  Chapter Nine

  The doorbell rang, rousing Brinley from her sleep on the couch. She opened the door—“Mom?”—and thought for a moment she was hallucinating from the stress she was under, but her mother smiled and opened her arms. The familiarity of it came close to making her cry. “Oh my God, thank you for never listening to me.”

  “You’re not mad?” Wilma tightened her hold and kissed her temple.

  “Are you kidding? I’m so glad you’re here. I feel like I’m either crazy or in over my head.” Brinley didn’t let go right away, needing the safety she always associated with her mother. The disorienting feeling of losing everything that was familiar to her as well as the uncertainty of what she was doing had set her adrift.

  “Baby, you’re the smartest accountant I know, so I doubt you’re either of those things.” Wilma stared at all the ledgers and open files on her kitchen table and sighed as if in disapproval.

  “I’m telling you, Mom, there’s something fishy about all this, and my work partner acts like someone is listening to everything we say. Jarrell and his crazy mother are starting to look better and better.”

  “You haven’t talked to Naomi about all that?”

  “All she keeps saying is not to ask questions, and she doesn’t appear too anxious to give me any answers about any of this. It’s like she’s truly scared about something, but she won’t say what it is. For now I figure the answers are in there”—she pointed to all the paperwork—“but the numbers keep leaving me with more questions.”

  “Okay, how about this.” She took Brinley’s hand and patted it. “You look beat, and nothing makes sense when you’re this tired, so you go to bed and get some sleep. I’ll take a glance at what you have.”

  “Trust me, I’d rather spend the rest of the night catching up with you.”

  “I would too, but you really do look tired. Take me up on my offer. Back home we worked on stuff together all the time, and no one was the wiser. Besides, I won’t make any changes to your work, and I’ll follow your flow for any reports you need to finish.”

  “Are you sure?” Brinley couldn’t think of anything better than her pillow.

  “You’re exhausted, honey, and I slept on the plane. Go to bed and let me do what I came for, and that’s to help you.” Brinley didn’t protest being led to he
r room and getting tucked in. “Get some sleep, and we’ll talk some more in the morning.”

  “Thanks, Mom, but come get me if you have any questions. I feel horrible for dumping all this on you right off, but I love you.”

  “It’s not dumping it on me if I volunteered, and I love you too. All you need to believe is there are plenty of jobs out there if this one doesn’t work out. You’re good at what you do, and any company would be lucky to have you.” She kissed Brinley’s forehead and combed her hair back.

  “I’m sure you’re right, but part of me really wants to know the answer.”

  “Let’s see what the hell all this is about, and I can help you decide what the best move is.” Wilma stood and kissed her forehead again. “Get some sleep and it’ll make more sense if you’re not exhausted.”

  Five hours later, feeling more rested than she had since her arrival in Vegas, Brinley hugged her mother again. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

  “I’m your mother, and I’ll always know when you need me, but I’m glad I’m here too.” Wilma handed Brinley a cup of coffee and pointed to a chair. “We need to talk about this place you work.”

  “What do you think?” Brinley tapped her finger on the ceramic mug in her hand and chewed on her bottom lip.

  “The only way any of that makes sense is your bosses are laundering massive amounts of money. It’s the only reasonable explanation for the unpredictable part of gambling that’s become more than predictable in those books.”

  “That’s what I thought too, but I didn’t want to overreach by having an overactive imagination. Hell, you see this stuff in movies, but you don’t expect it right in your face.” Brinley sipped her coffee and shook her head. “Maybe this is why Dean asked us for the audit.”

  “Honey, you know I don’t want to come out and tell you what to do, but if there’s any truth in those movies, it’s that you shouldn’t take this lightly. No one launders money for a pack of nuns. These are bad people, and you need to get out of there. This isn’t something you can take a chance on.”

  “You don’t think I’m in danger, do you?” Brinley shook her head without a lot of enthusiasm. “I actually thought about it briefly, but I’m a nobody. The nobody only gets killed if they’re in the wrong place.”

  “Or they see something they shouldn’t. This doesn’t feel right to me.” Wilma placed her hand on the box of files. “Not to knock your skills, but I don’t understand why they put you on this as your first assignment. Internal audits are usually done because you’re trying to find theft—not because you’re rolling in cash. That’s the other thing that makes no sense. As to your other theory, there’s no way in hell your boss doesn’t know what’s going on.”

  “Do you have any theories?” Brinley was sure of her skills, but her mother had way more experience.

  “I’m sure I’m wrong, but this assignment seems like busywork. It’s like they’re trying to prove something they already know. An audit seems to me like a total waste of time.”

  “That’s true too, but quitting now might ruin my chances of getting another job somewhere else. I don’t want to come off as some kind of flake.”

  “All you need to do is look for something off the Strip. There’s enough of a variety of industries here for you to find a place without all this going on. Think about Finn. You don’t need to put yourself in danger for a paycheck.”

  Brinley stood and put her arms around her. “Thank you, and as always, you’re right. Let me get all that stuff back to them and break the news. I’ll tell them I have a family emergency I have to deal with, and I don’t want to hold them back. The only thing I’ll miss is my friendship with Naomi, but I’ll call her in a week or so and touch base.”

  “I love you, and I think you’re making the right choice. We don’t really know any of these people and we can’t guess what their motives are.”

  Finn came out of his room and screamed in delight when he saw her. Brinley knew her mom had missed her, but she had a special need to see her grandson, and she couldn’t blame her.

  “Hey, cutie,” Wilma said, scooping him up and kissing both his cheeks.

  Brinley smiled and fixed a cup of juice for him. “Why don’t you take a nap, and I’ll get him ready. Today’s his first day at the new day care, and I don’t want to lose my spot. Harvard would’ve been easier to get into, and I think it’ll be a place he’ll like when I go back to work. Once I’m done today we’ll come back and take you out to lunch.”

  “I’ll take both of you out to lunch, so hurry back.”

  “This shouldn’t take long at all.”

  * * *

  “Do you understand what I’m asking for?” the client asked Reed. It was the second call of the morning to give the final instructions for what they needed done.

  Reed hated men who spoke to people as though they were better than anyone around them. She kept her tone even. “I understood you the first time, so send me a picture and address and it’s done.”

  “It’ll be in your messages as soon as I hang up.”

  Reed held the phone, waiting for the text that would mean a two-hundred-thousand-dollar payday. Why Robert Wallace would spend the cash on someone who was basically a nobody made her curious, but she figured Little Bobby was making an example of whoever this woman was.

  Little Bobby’s fixer, Alex, had called the night before, following the directions she’d insisted on when he’d called at the diner, and she recognized his voice from their previous conversations about other jobs, even if Alex had no idea who she was. Robert Wallace had fucked up so many times, he could be her only client if she took every contract. This could be another one of his screwups, and if the woman had stolen from Wallace, she understood punishment, but this was a bit excessive. Whatever the reason, all that mattered was it was Little Bobby’s dime.

  Her phone buzzed and she studied the picture of the blond woman. She was beautiful despite the awful employee ID photo, which was a waste, but that had nothing to do with the job that had to be done. The address wasn’t far from where she was. She planned to make the hit look like a car accident.

  “Must be my lucky day,” she said as she took a left and headed over a few blocks to the nice apartment complex. “Oscar.” She parked outside the gate.

  “Did asshole Alex give you a name, finally?”

  “Brinley Myers, and unless I’m wrong, that’s not someone in management over there.”

  “Give me a second.” She heard him tapping keys rapidly. “Ms. Myers is driving a navy blue Toyota 4Runner with Louisiana plates. That should be easy to spot even if in an apartment complex.”

  The vehicle was easy to spot as it turned right out of the lot, and she didn’t take any precautions as she started following, figuring the woman wasn’t expecting anyone to be doing so. “What’s the story on Myers?” She kept driving but Myers wasn’t headed to the Moroccan, and if she was, she’d picked the strangest possible way to get there.

  “I don’t know what she could’ve done that would’ve landed her on our radar,” Oscar said, his voice fading away as if he was distracted by something.

  “What’s that mean?” she asked as they made another turn. “And where the hell is she going?” Myers took a few more turns, and the only explanation she could think of for this circuitous route to the casino was that Brinley Myers was new to town and had the directional sense of a confused homing pigeon.

  “She’s been at the Moroccan, like, a week and a bit, and she’s only been in town three weeks. What exactly could’ve gone wrong in that amount of time? That doesn’t sound like someone Little Bobby would waste his time, much less money, on.”

  “You’re right.” She slowed when Myers made an unexpected turn, and for a second she thought she’d been spotted and Myers was stopping to confront her. “You got anything else?”

  “That’s it. Brinley Myers is an accountant who obviously pissed off the wrong people in record time. She should’ve stayed in New Orleans with h
er—”

  “Child,” Reed said when Brinley got out, reached into the back, and carried out a toddler. “Fuck.” That could’ve been her and her own mother a million years ago, if her mother had actually been a responsible adult.

  “What, you don’t have a shot?” Oscar asked, and she had no good answer. Caring about any mark wasn’t supposed to happen—not ever. That rule was sacrosanct, but shooting a woman holding her kid…that was out of the question.

  “Let me call you back.” She punched the steering wheel hard three times.

  All the contracts she’d taken were easy, they’d always been easy. She aimed, she fired, she drove away to get paid. None of those marks clouded her mind or haunted her dreams because none of them mattered. They were, in a way, all like Victor in that they did bad shit for most of their lives, so their deaths shouldn’t have been a shock to them.

  This woman, though, was different. She looked innocent, and that Reed had no experience with. Killing an innocent wasn’t in her makeup, and she couldn’t make herself aim and fire. She might’ve been emotionally stunted, but she wasn’t dead inside.

  That rash decision had the potential to blow her world to shit. You couldn’t lie, collect the fee, and send the supposedly dead person back to their lives. The truth always came out, somehow.

  Brinley Myers glanced back and held her kid tighter when Reed sped across the street, her tires squealing, and slammed to a stop next to her. The way Brinley’s eyes widened when she saw the gun in her hand was expected, but her turning away from her when she raised it was not. It was as if Brinley was protecting her kid from what was about to happen. It was foolish and courageous, but they were in the game now. She parked her car and got out.

  “Put him back in his car seat and make it fast. Don’t make me say it again.” She lowered the gun to not attract attention, and watched as Myers did what she asked.

  Brinley threw the diaper bag in the back seat and strapped the kid in as she kept glancing back at her. Her expression was one of fear and it was obvious she was trying to figure out what to do.