Double-Crossed Page 11

  “If you want, take my purse and go. I don’t have much cash, but you can take my credit cards.”

  “Less talking and more buckling.” She got into the driver’s seat and pushed it back to accommodate her legs. “If you don’t want me to leave with the kid, get next to me when you’re done, and it’s no time to get cute. Don’t yell, and hand your cell phone over.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Brinley asked when Reed pulled into traffic. The kid was surprisingly quiet in the back, but Reed could hear him kicking the seat rhythmically.

  “Shut up and let me think.” She took the streets that would avoid the Strip and started making her way out of town. Maybe by the time they got where they were going, she’d come back to reality and finish the job.

  The desert outside Vegas had plenty of mythology to go with it, and a lot of it was on the money. This was a place where you could bury either your secrets or your mistakes, and the elements would erase all trace of them. Once they’d gone about fifteen miles, Reed turned off and drove down one of the county roads until she couldn’t see the highway. The deserted spot had a line of boulders, and from experience Reed knew these areas were only popular with off-roaders.

  Reed put the car in park and placed her gun back in her shoulder holster. That didn’t seem to bring down Brinley’s freak factor. “Look—”

  “Please, whatever you’re going to do, don’t do it in front of my son. I’ll give you whatever you want if you don’t hurt him.” Brinley’s tears were falling, and her emotions seemed to be in overload as she sucked in breaths between words.

  “Mama,” the little boy said, as if he realized how upset his mother was.

  “Ms. Myers, not to sound like some cheap hustler, but if I wanted to hurt you, you’d be dead and already lying out there bloating.” The way she put it made Brinley cry harder. “Look,” she said louder, and the kid start crying too. “Oh, fuck me.”

  Reed took the keys out of the ignition and got out. She slammed the door, walked to the back of the vehicle, and glanced at the dust that still hadn’t settled on the road.

  How any animal or plant lived in this misery was amazing, and the fact that she was out here thinking about fucking minutiae instead of completing her contract meant she was losing her mind. Killing this woman would’ve been easy if Reed didn’t have a mental image of that kid ending up in foster care. Oscar hadn’t mentioned a father, so killing his mother probably meant the kid would be in the same spot she was in, years down the line. If he lived that long.

  She went back and started the car again since the few minutes of her being outside had raised the temperature to uncomfortable. “Stop crying,” she said in a gentler tone.

  “I’m sorry,” Brinley said, her voice hoarse but her tears still falling.

  “What did you do for Robert Wallace?”

  “Who?”

  Reed clenched her jaw and made a fist. “If you start off lying, this isn’t going to last long, and believe me, you’re really not going to like the ending.”

  “I’ve been here less than a month, and I don’t know anyone named Wallace.”

  Reed tapped on the steering wheel and exhaled as a way to regain her patience. “He’s the CEO of the Moroccan, and you work there.” She turned slightly to face Brinley, and Brinley plastered her body to the passenger door. The move made her laugh. “You can see why your answer of Who? makes me think you’re full of shit.”

  “You can believe me or not, but I really haven’t been in town that long. I do work at the Moroccan, but my boss is Dean Jasper, and I work with Naomi Williams. Robert Wallace might run the place, but he’s never been to accounting, and we’ve never met.” It sounded truthful since it took Brinley forever to get it out through a fresh bout of tears and shuddering breaths.

  “Could you stop crying, for fuck’s sake?” She pressed two fingers to her forehead on the spot where a headache was beginning. Hysterical women weren’t part of her norm—ever. Add to that a screaming kid, and Reed had entered the twilight zone.

  “Why are you doing this?” Brinley asked, and that got the kid really going with his shrieking.

  “Fuck me,” she said softly, not able to think because of the noise. It was time to crash back to reality and get this over with.

  “Please,” Brinley said. “At least tell me why.”

  “I’m not the answer person, lady, I’m only fulfilling a contract. You must’ve done something, and if you don’t want to admit it, that’s your problem. You can take it to your grave.” She lifted her hand and wrapped her fingers around the butt of her gun.

  “Wait!” Brinley opened her door and got out, but didn’t run.

  It was the act of a good mother, or what Reed assumed a good mother did. “It’s not personal.” Reed walked to the passenger side and unholstered her gun. “It’s just a job.”

  Brinley fell to her knees when she raised the weapon and aimed it at Brinley’s head. She pulled the trigger without any more thought, wanting it over—and then it was.

  Chapter Ten

  Hugo Padilla followed Mano into his office and closed the door. There was a coffee service set up along with some breakfast pastries, and Mano waved his bodyguard to the table. “I got a call from my pal on the force this morning,” Mano said. He took his jacket off and threw it on an empty chair. “Sounds like we have more drama going on, and the cops can’t figure it out.”

  “If you’re talking about the Moroccan crap, I can’t explain it either,” Hugo said, shoving half a guava and cream cheese pastry in his mouth.

  Mano didn’t know where his secretary found the Cuban treats, but they rivaled any in Miami, or the ones they had specially made in New Orleans. “Victor I can kind of understand, considering his position, but an accountant who has no ties to upper management? I don’t.” He glanced at his phone and scrolled through the messages. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until he saw a voicemail from Benito Lucassi. “What’s this asshole want?”

  “You have to narrow that down, boss. It’s been nothing but a steady stream of assholes lately.” He took another pastry and Mano laughed.

  “Oye, you better slow down if you want to keep those boyish good looks,” he said, patting his stomach.

  “You’re just jealous that Sylvia limits you to one a week.” Hugo flipped him off with a goofy smile.

  “True, but Sylvia’s someone you want to keep happy. Benito Lucassi, though, I’d be thrilled to avoid forever.” He listened to the message requesting a meeting that came in at two fifteen that morning. For an old bastard, Benito kept odd hours.

  “He’s been trying for a couple of years to get more action here, but I’ve had the guys throw his people out when they got too blatant about honing in on more than he’s entitled to. From what I hear, he’s running book over at the Tropical.” Hugo grabbed another pastry but split it with Mano. “The folks over there must not care since most of his business is East Coast tough guys who can’t stand the heat in Vegas.”

  “It might be something more than that.” He leaned back and put his feet up. “Benito’s living large for a guy who’s only keeping book.”

  “You think he’s got some scam on the side?”

  He nodded and pointed at Hugo. “Let’s meet with him but put some of our best guys on him. Whatever his pitch is, he’s someone’s mouthpiece. Benito hasn’t had an original idea since he was born.”

  Hugo nodded, stood, and buttoned his jacket. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Something going on, boss?” Dwayne came in and handed him some ledgers.

  “Benito wants a meeting.”

  Dwayne sat and bounced his fist on his knee. “Do we know anything but the obvious about that guy? He’s bad news, and he’s a slow learner.”

  “How so?” he asked.

  “Hugo’s talked to him and his guys more than once about doing business here, but it finally took Steve threatening him with legal action if he kept trying to move in on our whales. He hasn’t been back, but he was piss
ed enough to get even more stupid since he didn’t get his way.”

  “I agree with you,” he said, glancing at Hugo. “Make the meet somewhere other than here.”

  “How about at Bellagio?” Hugo asked.

  “That sounds good. Make it at the high-stakes bar, and we can get the girls to meet us after at Prime.”

  “A good steak sounds like a plan,” Dwayne said.

  “Not as good as the spin Benito’s going to give us, but let’s play nice. Once we find out who’s pulling his strings, we might be in the position to cut them for good.”

  * * *

  Detective Andrew Wamsley stood close to what was left of the burned-out car someone on a hike had spotted and called in. He and Corey Grant had caught the new case since everyone from the brass down had concluded Victor Madison’s death was an accident. That was bullshit, but his supervisor had threatened him with desk duty if he didn’t drop it.

  “Are the CSI guys coming?” Corey asked.

  The vehicle was still smoking, but Andrew didn’t see any open flames. “Hopefully there’s something left once they get here.”

  “Aside from the two dead people inside, you mean?” Corey asked as more personnel arrived. “There’s no way this wasn’t a professional hit.”

  “Don’t trip over your shoes, rookie. Vegas isn’t the Wild West anymore.” He waved the CSI team over and gave them room to work. “You start saying shit like that and it freaks people out, and the brass is allergic to freaked-out people.”

  “Hey, Andy,” Mike Henry said an hour later. “You ready for the perimeter report?”

  “Let’s start with the back seat, and maybe what I’m looking at has some other explanation.” He was disgusted by the waste of human life, and whatever brought the driver to this place had definitely ended in a waste.

  “Sorry, friend, but it looks like we got a dead female in the passenger seat, and a baby in the back. We’re taking samples, but from this secluded area and the heat of the fire, there’s no way someone didn’t use an accelerant.” Mike walked to the car and pointed. “If the hikers hadn’t called this in, there would’ve been nothing left. The firefighters added a new layer of forensics we’ll have to get through, but this is a homicide.”

  “The plates are gone, but is the VIN still viable?” Corey asked.

  “One of the guys is running it now,” Mike said in a tone that telegraphed he didn’t appreciate anyone telling him how to do his job. “Any other suggestions for me?”

  “Excuse us a minute,” Andrew said, grabbing Corey by the bicep and dragging him away. “Look,” he said, speaking low enough so no one would overhear, so as not to embarrass his new partner. “We all get you graduated at the top of your class, since you mentioned it more than once, but I’m your last resort.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “No one else wanted to partner with you since they think you’re a dumb obnoxious asshole. That’s not meant to hurt your feelings, just the truth, so try to show some respect.”

  “Are you asking me not to do my job because some old dude might get twisted?” Corey pointed to Mike, who seemed to be watching them with interest.

  “The old dude is one of the best in the country and has closed more cases than all of us combined. But hey, I can see since you solved all those classroom cases you have a need to work by yourself so the rest of us don’t hold you back. Go ahead and drive to the precinct, and when I’m done here, I’ll ask the captain about cutting you loose to do your own thing.” Andrew handed over the keys and went back to the crime scene. If he stuck with this kid, he’d never close another case.

  “You lucked out with that one,” Mike said as the car peeled out and fishtailed before getting back on the road.

  “I’m convinced I sacrificed a virgin or something equally unforgivable in a past life and it’s coming back to haunt me.”

  Mike laughed and put his glasses back on. “We’re getting ready to wrap this up and bring it all back to the lab. They’re melted to their seats, so I’m going to tarp the whole thing and tow it.”

  “I’ll meet you there. Any hits on the VIN? With the kid in the car seat this is going to hit the media big-time.” He took one more glance toward the small seat and a shroud of depression dropped over his shoulders, making him nauseous. “What kind of coldhearted bastard does this?”

  “That I can’t answer for you, my friend. All we can do is try to wade through the shit people pile up for us and try to make it to retirement without eating a bullet,” Mike said.

  He slapped Mike on the back and nodded. “You get an amen on that one, brother.”

  * * *

  Reed turned off another road and tapped on the steering wheel as she headed for a storage facility she had out of town. What she’d done wasn’t something she wanted to dwell on, but there was still plenty left to get through before she could head home and take a cold shower. She’d been sweating a lot more than usual, but the desert was always brutal on a cloudless day. It was nothing to do with the massive fuckup she was still in the process of making.

  “What now?” Brinley asked, when Reed pulled her car into an empty unit. “You keep us locked here so we can die from the heat?”

  “Get out and grab the kid,” she said, draping her jacket over her arm and noticing Brinley’s eyes seemed to be fixed on her gun. “You and I are going to have a talk.”

  “About letting us go?” Brinley asked, her tears no longer falling, though she was obviously still upset.

  “Lady, just move and we can get this over with, one way or another.” The door sounded loud when she pulled it down but didn’t lock it. The unit next door was hers as well, but this one had no door to a safe room. It had an old fifth wheel camper that was wired into the facility’s electricity, water, and sewage. “Get in.”

  It was early afternoon and the kid was starting to get fussy, so she sat at the small table and waited for Brinley to deal with him. After Brinley fed him something out of the diaper bag, he stopped crying, and Reed closed her eyes for a moment as Brinley started singing while she rocked him.

  Her assessment that this really was a good mother was right, and she had absolutely no experience there.

  “What do you want to talk about?” Brinley asked.

  “I lost my mind today.” She clenched her fists. Her mouth had momentarily taken control of her brain for those words to have come out. Shit like that either got you caught or killed.

  “Oh, good. You can let us go and we’ll forget this ever happened. I’ve got no idea of who you are, and I don’t care what you want.” Brinley appeared almost relieved, as if she’d put down a heavy load.

  “Slow down, and that’s not what I meant.” She forced her hands open and held them flat on the table. “Right now, you should be dead, and I should be collecting my fee. You may not know Robert Wallace, but he wants you dead. Letting you go isn’t going to happen—just yet.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Brinley’s laugh was nearly hysterical, and Reed could tell her tears weren’t far behind. “I haven’t even collected my first paycheck.”

  “No one pays top dollar for the ridiculous, Ms. Myers.” She set up the coffeepot to have something to do with herself, then leaned on the counter. “Start talking, because I have limited options here.”

  “What are my options?” Brinley rubbed her hands up and down her thighs and rocked as she spoke. “Letting us go isn’t one of them, I’m guessing.”

  “You want honest, so here it is.” She poured two cups and handed one over. She preferred milk, but she wasn’t in this thing often enough to keep it fresh, so the powdered shit would have to do. “If you want to leave, I’m going to have to kill you. That isn’t me being cruel, it’s the truth. Killing you is the job I was hired to do today.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Brinley sipped her coffee as well, and there was something very surreal about the whole day. It was like one of those internet dates you met at a coffee shop to make sure the other perso
n wasn’t a psycho.

  “I grew up without my mom,” she said, not believing these words were actually spilling out of her mouth. “I saw your kid…”

  “And you couldn’t do it,” Brinley finished for her when it was clear she had nothing else to add. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me, lady. I’m still trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong with me.” She shook her head and took a sip of coffee. “Both of us have plenty to lose now, so tell me what you did.”

  “My job is all I did. I was hired by Dean Jasper as an accountant, and it seemed like a great opportunity. Then my work partner and I got a new assignment,” Brinley said. “He asked Naomi and me to do an internal audit, a pre-audit, really, before it went to the outside accountants.”

  “Did you find something?”

  Brinley stared at her as if this might be the trap that would get her killed. Like all she had to do was confirm the information and she’d pull the trigger this time. “What does it matter if I did? You’re going to kill me anyway.”

  “I’m curious, since I doubt whatever it was rises to the level of a top pay hit.” Reed sighed, exhausted to her bones. Perhaps big life-changing decisions were a sign that she’d finally snapped and should consider retirement. “You can leave if you want—I’m done.”

  “I thought you said that wasn’t an option?”

  She brought the breaking news up on her phone after Oscar’s text. “I didn’t say you’d survive the day, but I won’t pull the trigger.” She tossed Brinley’s keys on the table and stood to pour the rest of her coffee in the sink. “Little Bobby wants you dead, but you weren’t the only one.”

  Brinley took the phone and read the article that accompanied the picture of a vehicle covered with a tarp. “Why are you showing me this?”

  “By tonight the news will report on the murder of Naomi Williams and her kid. The police will swear they’ll do whatever it takes to find the animals responsible, and jack shit will get done.”