by Harley Slate
“You said before.”
“Well, I'm saying it again, because you refuse to listen.”
Mel glanced beyond Lana, and Lana turned around. There was nothing there, just a cheap old-fashioned clock radio with red numerals flashing the time. Apparently, all hotels and motels still had them, no matter how lux or how humble. “If you came for another reason, you need to tell me now. You know what you need to say.”
“If I knew what I needed to say, I'd already be saying it.”
Mel clutched the Gucci bag closer. The money was a barrier between them.
A loud knock.
Mel's pink lips rounded into an O of surprise. Putting one soft hand on Lana's shoulder, she pointed at the bed.
Well, not really at it, so much as under it.
Lana got it right away. She was supposed to hide.
Her heart raced. This was it, she was about to learn the identity of at least one more member of Mel's team. With a drop and a roll, she squirmed into the hiding place and watched Mel yank the thin bedspread down low to conceal her body.
Her nose tickled. The motel's concern for its guests didn't extend to wiping up every dust bunny under the bed.
“Open the fuck up! You think I got all day to spend on this?”
Lana wished she could see. Mel must be opening the door, at least a crack. “What's your problem? What do you want?”
“I'm the man from Elsinore. You were expecting me.”
“I was.”
“Check your fucking phone for the code.”
Footsteps, not going far. The clunk of the latch being opened. Heavier footsteps.
The man's raspy voice was familiar. Too familiar.
“I see your code,” Mel said. “Here's your fucking bag. And now I'm done with this shit. People are asking questions.”
“Nobody's asking fucking questions.”
“That chick from the sky is asking questions. Lana Jones.”
“Her. She's an FBI wanna-be. Nobody takes that chick seriously.”
Lana was not amused.
The heavier footsteps paced. Two steps this way, two steps back. The little room wasn't that big, but it was too hot to have this discussion outside, so the man was stuck in a room too small for him. Lana just hoped he didn't decide to sit his heavy ass on the bed. The old mattress would sag right down and give her away.
A long pause. Lana felt deaf as well as blind in the silence. Maybe he was counting out the money, but the rattle of the cheap window unit made it impossible to hear the whisper of paper on paper.
He cleared his throat. “So. Your instructions. We're cashing out Friday night. One last hit. Nobody will think anything strange about it, the fucking Dragonshifter bank of progressives hasn't hit in three fucking years. It's due. Somebody's going to win it, and that somebody's going to be us.”
The Dragonshifter was a proprietary progressive, a jackpot you could only play for in their casino. Since it had never paid off the top prize, it had slowly built up to be worth over five million dollars. Lana swallowed. Here was a take worth giving up the little house in Henderson.
“Too much,” Mel said. “They'll put the money into escrow while they investigate.”
“Sure, for a few days, they will. We can wait a few days for five million dollars.”
“That FBI wanna-be will make some noise.”
“Let her. The only opinion that matters is the opinion of the gaming commission, and they're not holding that jackpot up for longer than seventy-two hours. There isn't any cash, the money is coming from the casino's jackpot insurance. You'll get a check, and you'll deposit that check into the account we already established.”
“See, we established some of this stuff before I knew all the fine print. It's my name on the paperwork and my face on the camera. I need to get some sweetener.”
“You're getting what you agreed on like everybody else.”
“You must think I'm fucking stupid.”
“No, lady, I think you're really fucking smart. That's the only reason I can trust you to do exactly what you're told. Because you're smart enough to know you won't be so pretty with your face blown off.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
“I love you too.”
The heavy footsteps retreated. The door slammed. Even as she was scrambling out from under the bed, Lana saw the messenger bag had gone away with Salvatore Durrell.
“The fuck,” she said. “You know who that is?”
Mel extended a long hand to help Lana back on her feet. “Yeah. I know exactly who that is.”
Chapter Twelve
“Did you know?” Lana asked. “Did you know that all along, my fucking boss was one of the bad guys?”
They stood face to face, Lana feeling dirty and not just because she'd been hiding under the bed.
“If I knew who I was supposed to hand off the money to, I wouldn't need a special code.” Mel licked her index finger and touched it carefully to the corner of Lana's mouth. “Sorry, but ah. There's a dust bunny. We need to get you in the shower.”
“Does a place like this have hot water?”
Mel laughed. “Hot water, yeah. Cold water... that's probably another question this time of day.”
Was this a distraction? Oh, probably, but Lana could hardly drive all the way back to Vegas covered in dust bunnies. Mel's quick hands easily guided her out of her clothes, and it seemed only fair to help Mel out of hers.
“We're going to have to talk about this,” Lana said.
“You and your talking.”
“Really, though.”
“After. Please.” Mel touched another smudge beside Lana's belly button. How did she get a dust mark there? “Let's get you cleaned up.”
How could she resist?
The shower was too small, and yet somehow they made it work. The single package of lavender-scented shampoo bubbled up enough for both of them. Mel's good hands squeaked on Lana's damp skin.
“You're not going to distract me,” Lana said.
“You're not going to distract me.”
We can't do this.
You already have.
Mel's hands slipped down the long wet length of Lana's body, pausing to cup the swell of her firm hips. They were so close Lana's vision blurred as she gazed into the emerald depths of Mel's hypnotic eyes.
“How did you get caught up in this situation?” Lana asked. “You're smart enough to know it only ends one way.”
“Nothing only ends one way. Anyway, I wasn't given a choice. I borrowed money from the wrong creep, and this is how they need me to pay it back.”
It was too much like her mother's story. And now her mother was gone. “The house always wins, Mel. They'll never stop demanding payback.”
“That's just the movies. It's a business. They know they can push people only so far. Asking me to front for a few jackpots, it isn't such a tough job.”
“Except it's your face on the video, your name on the tax and the money-tracking paperwork. They can hold that shit over you for years.”
The water stayed hot, as Mel had predicted, but it was finally dribbling out. The old water tank held only so much. Mel's hands shifted on Lana's hips, turning her easily to finish rinsing off the last of the body wash. Bodies didn't care about who was righteous and who was criminal. Bodies only cared about the heat crackling between them.
“When I saw you following me, I was afraid...” Mel closed her eyes and lifted her face to the last trickle of water. Then, shaking it off, she opened them again. They were so close. Close enough for kisses, close enough for more. “I'm glad it wasn't you, Lana.”
“I could never be a bagman.” A tactless thing to say, since that's exactly what Mel was. Lana pushed out of the cramped shower stall and grabbed one of the skimpy white motel towels. She felt large and awkward as she briskly dried off her still-slick body. “My mother had a lot of problems, but the fatal one was her gambling addiction. She got in debt to the paycheck cashing companies and then some street loan sh
ark. And then...”
Mel found a second towel. She used it not to dry herself but to fluff awkwardly at Lana's back and shoulders. What could Mel have done right? If she hadn't tried to fluff at Lana, it would have felt like rejection. Some people were like that, they backed away at the first hint of mental illness in a lover's family. Touching Lana was a necessary reassurance. Yet it too felt awkward, thanks to the raw sexual pull that always existed between them. “I'm so sorry. I didn't know.”
“I realize that. How could you know?” Lana made a stab at drying Mel back. That was even more awkward. After a moment, Lana dropped the towel and stood there, a battery-operated doll whose battery had abruptly gone dead. Was she in shock? She felt as if her mind had emptied itself of every sensible thought.
Mel finished fluffing Lana's hair and awkwardly stepped away too. “I'm sorry,” she repeated. “It sounds like... and I don't want to intrude... but it sounds like they hurt her.”
“She hurt herself.” Lana couldn't talk about this anymore. Where were her clothes?
I need to get out of here. I feel crowded. I can't do this.
As if Lana had said as much right out loud, Mel stepped back and out of the small bathroom. Finding Lana's things, she passed them back inside. There was now a door between them, open only a few inches as Lana quickly dressed.
Neither of them continued the discussion about Lana's mother or about anybody's family history. They needed a small silence to settle their own thoughts.
After a time, Mel's soft voice came through the gap. “I want you to know something, Lana. I'm glad it wasn't you, that you weren't the bagman or the bad guy or whatever you want to call it. I'm glad you're trying to do the right thing. But this is bigger than what you understand, and what I need for you to do right now is to stand down.”
Soft? Yes, her voice started soft, but then it got harder. Almost bossy.
As if Lana should be open to taking directions from Mel.
As if Lana should be listening to somebody who just handed off a bag of cash to her boss.
When Lana smoothed down the hem of her shirt and pushed through to the cheap bedroom, she discovered that Mel too was already dressed, her damp abundance of red hair pushed behind her ears to make her face look older and more serious. The rattle of the window unit was still there, but the noise kept fading from Lana's awareness. That fucking window unit was the least of her problems.
And Lana's voice could be as firm as Mel's.
“You need? What you need for me to do? Where do you come from, that you think you can tell me what you need for me to do?”
Mel parted those beautiful lips as if to say something.
But Lana was too wound up to let her get a word in edgewise. “Let me tell you what I need from you. I need you to listen, and I need you to listen good. And what I'm telling you is this, loud and clear: I can't keep quiet for you, I'm not covering up for you. What you're doing is wrong, and you're hurting my place of business. The Dragonhoarde might seem like just another rip-off casino to you, but it's jobs to a lot of people, and they're counting on me to keep the game honest.”
Mel folded her arms over her chest.
Lana folded her arms right back. “I don't want you to go to jail, but you need to fix this, and if you don't fix this, I will.”
“There's no fixing this, Lana, and I'm not playing with you. Fuck, how can I get through to that beautiful, stubborn head of yours? Stay out of it. Stand down. This is still bigger than you think it is, and these are still dangerous people.”
“I heard how big it is. Five million dollars worth of big. That's too much for me to look the other way. You can't ask that of me. You can't ask that of anyone.”
“For fuck's sake, Lana. People will absolutely kill for that kind of money. Do you not get that? This isn't television, this is real life.”
“So, boom, that's it, you're threatening me after all. Because you know I can't look away, you know the best I can do is give you fair warning that I'm going to report this.”
“Oh yeah? Who do you think you're reporting it to? Your head of security?” Mel's green eyes flashed with triumph. She'd scored a point, and she fucking knew it.
I can't let her get under my skin. We both know she's in the wrong here.
“Do I really have to spell it out? We both know I have to go to law enforcement with this. Either law enforcement or directly to the gaming commission. I have no choice at this point. I saw a bag of money change hands from a big winner to my boss. That's an ethical and criminal violation right there.”
“You don't even know what the hell you saw. What money? Did you actually see any fucking money?” The green eyes flashed again. A second point for her side.
Lana was speechless. She had not, in fact, seen any money, and they both knew it. But, hell, Salvatore Durrell didn't drive all the way out to East Bumfuck, Nevada to pick up a Gucci messenger bag full of two-for-one buffet coupons. “There was cash in that bag. Casino cash. Before they paid you off, the cage made video of some of the serial numbers.”
Mel looked at the ceiling as if praying for patience from some invisible force. “Look, you're in the same ethical shit as Durrell. You heard whatever you heard and saw whatever you saw because you were fooling around with a big winner. You came to tip me off that I'm under investigation by the FBI. Is that not correct? Hell, maybe you thought I'd give you a cash gratuity in exchange for the information.”
Lana's mouth flapped open and closed. Not a word emerged.
“Don't look like that. I'm not making my argument. I'm making their argument. The gaming commission will want to know what the fuck you were doing under that bed.” Mel pointed at the guilty mattress in question. “It doesn't look good for you, girlfriend. Think it through a little more. If anybody's ripping off any machines― and you still don't have any real evidence they are― then they've got help from the inside. Those computer chips don't get inside the machines by fucking magic.”
“Durrell is the inside man. We both know it now.”
“Durrell doesn't program fucking slot machines.”
She was right. He was part of a team. Mel Lysander and Salvatore Durrell were only the tip of the iceberg.
“So you've got a he-said, she-said here. You blame Durrell, he blames you. You say you saw him here, he says he wasn't here but points out you admit you were. And me, I exercise my right to remain silent. Where the fuck are you then?”
Lana shouldn't be listening to this. Mel was dangerous. Anybody this convincing was dangerous.
“I don't want you to get hurt. I truly don't.” Mel shook herself. Unfolded her arms. Touched Lana lightly on the arm, then let her hand drop. “There's going to be a lot of suspicion to spread around. Somebody's going to get the blame when that jackpot money vanishes. You're the hookup. You might be the go-between. And maybe you're a jealous girlfriend. Or you feel used. Or you want a bigger cut of the money. Or any of a thousand other things. You've got to see the problem here.”
Lana wanted to kiss that lying mouth. Stop the endless flow of words, stop the lies. Oh, she very much saw the fucking problem. “Please stop, Mel. Stop.”
“I won't stop until you give me your word that you're going to keep out of this. You don't need to be talking about this stuff like you have heads-up insider knowledge. You need to stay very far away. It isn't safe. I don't even care about if it's safe for me. It isn't safe for you.”
“I can't...”
“You have no evidence. You're risking a lot for absolutely not one fucking thing.”
Was that true? Maybe. The Gucci bag had gone with Durrell, after all. “Mel, stop. Stop. If I move fast enough, if he still has the money when they search him...”
“You seriously think a judge will issue a search warrant of somebody's boss on the word of his disgruntled employee looking to take his job?”
“That isn't what this is.”
“Doesn't matter what it is. Only matters what it looks like.”
Lana shook h
er head to shake those endless lying words out of her ears.
“Get real, girlfriend,” Mel said. “Look at it from the point of view of a judge. Then keep in mind you don't actually know how high this goes. I don't know and I'm trapped in this mess, so there's no fucking way you can know. Anybody you go to could be part of the crew.”
Lana thought about the exchange of codes she'd overheard from her hiding place. Mel hadn't known in advance who she was handing the money off to. She wasn't lying about that. “You don't know who you're working for. You really don't.”
“Of course, I don't. If I knew who they were, I'd have something to take to law enforcement myself. I could get out of this trap.” Mel dared to touch Lana's arm again. “I don't want to do this, but I have no choice. You do. You can choose to forget you ever met me, you can choose to forget everything you know about this. You're free to walk away.”
How badly Lana wanted to gather Mel into her arms and squeeze her tight.
In theory, it would be easy to walk away. To forget. To pretend.
Yeah, well. That was theory.
“Listen to me,” Mel kept repeating. “To you, Durrell is a big guy, your boss at the casino. But you can see what he is to these people― just another bagman. There's somebody higher, and you don't know who it is. Maybe it's somebody in law enforcement. Almost has to be, if they have a plan for laundering millions of dollars. You could report to some police officer, you could bring it to a judge, and that person could be the very person in charge of the whole mess. You could be signing your own death warrant.”
“I'm so sorry, Mel.” Lana did risk hugging her once, a brief hug soon broken. She had to get out of here now. “Closing my eyes to an extortion and theft ring of this size isn't who I am. If they're doing this to you, how many other people have they done it to? You think about that, and maybe you think about where you're going to go from here. I'm heading out now. Goodbye.”
Chapter Thirteen
Even after all that, Lana sat in her hot Camry a minute. Did she hope Mel would come chasing out after her? Hell. She didn't know what she hoped. The verbal argument left her feeling as beaten as a physical workout. Funny how you could hate somebody and not hate them too.
