by Jeremy Pack
Gritting his teeth, he leaned back in his seat and tried to relax.
Restfulness proved elusive, however. Chris's nearness seemed to burn into his side with the heat of the sun. Finally, after a monumental struggle, he dozed off.
"GOOD evening, ladies and gentlemen. On behalf of the flight crew, we'd like to welcome you to Las Vegas."
Jason awoke, and Chris smiled at him as he blinked his eyes to clear his vision.
"Did you have a good nap?" Chris asked.
"I must have been really tired."
"So now that we're here---"
"We're going to need a hotel." Jason glanced at his watch and grimaced. It was well after midnight. "I've got to come up with some cash."
"I'll call George," Chris said, fumbling for his cell phone.
Jason reached out a hand and stopped him. "No."
"Why not?"
"I think it's best if nobody knows where we are---at least for the time being."
Chris's eyebrows knitted together in consternation. "Don't you think that's a little paranoid?"
"Try tangling with a two hundred pound gorilla with a switchblade and see how cozy you feel."
"But George---"
"Could be in danger too. We don't know how far these guys are willing to go, Chris. It's safer for everyone if we just fly under the radar for a while."
He nodded. "So what are we going to do?"
"In the morning I'll have Lisa make some transfers into a special account I keep for just this kind of thing. It will look like regular vendor payments."
"You've done this before?"
Jason smiled. "Sometimes, when you're tracking shady characters, especially the kind I'm used to dealing with, you have to be careful. I lost a job that way once."
They stood and moved toward the front of the plane with the rest of the passengers.
Jason glanced around nervously, and Chris could sense the tension pouring off him in waves.
"Something wrong?"
"Just keep your eyes open. We might be on dangerous ground."
"You don't think Brunner is here, do you?"
Jason shrugged. "Vegas is a long way from any jungle, but it seems like a logical place to hole up. You can get your hands on just about anything in Vegas. Fake identification, money, drugs... it's all here for the taking. You just need to know who to talk to. They don't call it Sin City for nothing."
They entered the terminal and looked around. The only people seemed to be those being disgorged from their plane, and Jason visibly relaxed. "This is a secured area, so I think we're safe."
To the left, Chris saw a bank of blinking, beeping slots. The machines attracted a few of the offloading passengers who settled themselves and began feverishly feeding them coins.
As they continued down the concourse, Chris asked, "If we can't call George or use our credit cards, what are we going to do about a hotel?"
"It just so happens that I have a connection who works for the Venetian. He should be able to get us lodging and be discreet about it."
LAS VEGAS was always vibrant and pulsing with life. Even on the other side of midnight, the Strip was jammed with traffic. Their taxi driver opted for a back-road route to the Venetian, which brought them to the hotel within minutes.
Chris had never been to Las Vegas and was impressed by the spectacle that surrounded him. Even this late at night, the casino was crowded and roiling. As they entered, he gaped at the beautiful marble tiling and ornate detail to be seen in every corner. He could almost picture himself walking the streets of Venice.
Jason scanned the reception desk and frowned. "He works the night shift, but I don't see him."
"This isn't another one of your old flings, is it?" Chris asked as Jason headed toward a courtesy phone. "You don't have some kind of travel industry fetish, do you?"
"No, Curt's father, Frank, was my dad's partner in the FBI---Frank still works with the CACU here in Las Vegas."
"Ah," Chris intoned.
"I'm counting on his help once we track your daughter down."
Jason picked up the phone and spoke to the operator for a few seconds. He smiled and hung up. "We're in luck. Curt is here. They're going to page him and have him meet us."
As they waited, Chris took his time exploring the lobby with his eyes. He was fascinated by the sheer scale of it. Everything seemed huge and exaggerated. Off to his right, he could see the entrance to the shopping arcade and stared in wonder as a gondola floated down a man-made river, its occupants being serenaded by an operatic tenor as they drifted along.
"Here he comes," Jason said suddenly, drawing Chris's attention.
Chris looked in the direction Jason had indicated and saw a fit, energetic young man approaching. His handsome face was alight with a wide, delighted grin.
"Jason. I wish I had known you were coming. I would have taken some time off," he greeted warmly, patting Jason on the back and furiously pumping his hand up and down.
"I'm really glad you didn't," Jason said, returning the infectious grin. "This is a business trip, I'm afraid. It's great to see you, Curt. How is Frank?"
Curt shook his head, his mop of black curls bouncing as he chuckled. "Same dad. Cranky, mean... old. But you know the type. You've got one of those too. Your folks were here just a couple of weeks ago, by the way."
Jason's smile faded slightly at the mention of his parents, and Curt did not miss the subtle clue that this was a touchy subject. "So where are you staying?"
Jason leaned in conspiratorially. "Actually, I was hoping you could help me out with that. Somewhere between Seattle and here, I managed to lose my wallet. Unfortunately, I can't do anything about securing some cash until tomorrow. I thought you could get us a room for the night and settle up with me in the morning."
Curt grinned. "Bradley watching your credit cards again?"
Jason chuckled in response. "How do you do that?"
"That was a pathetic story. Full of holes. A trained agent would never lose his wallet." Curt patted his back. "Besides, you should have seen his face." He gestured toward Chris. "When you started spouting crap, I thought I was going to have to dive in for a rescue to keep his jaw from hitting the floor."
Chris blushed, realizing that his shock had been so apparent. He'd have to work on his poker face.
Chris noticed Curt's eyes lingering on his face. He felt like he was being sized up. The frank appraisal made him want to cower behind Jason. "No wonder Bradley's on your ass. I'd sure like a dose of your luck in finding traveling companions."
Chris's cheeks burned, and he looked quickly down at the floor. As if sensing his discomfort, Jason moved protectively closer. "Chris is a client," he explained. "And Bradley is the least of our worries."
"I'm clearly in the wrong line of work," Curt said, extending his hand in Chris's direction. "Don't worry about me. I'm harmless. Mouthy, but harmless. Curt Marcus, by the way."
The handshake Chris offered was perfunctory. He disengaged as quickly as possible, and focused his attention back on the floor. "Chris James," he muttered.
"It's a pleasure," Curt said. Chris could still feel Curt's eyes upon him, and he shuffled backward a step.
Curt seemed to sense that he'd crossed a line. He cleared his throat and said, "Well, let's get you two checked in."
It took only a few moments for the young man to secure a room for them. As he handed the key to Jason, he smiled and winked at Chris.
"It's separate beds."
"Thanks, Curt. I owe you one," Jason said, imposing himself between Chris and Curt's bold innuendos.
Once inside the elevator, Chris took a deep breath, and the tension left his shoulders.
"Sorry about Curt," Jason apologized. "He has this thing with subtlety."
"Yeah. He has none."
"We grew up together," Jason explained. "He's a little forward, but he's a good guy."
"Were you two ever...?"
"No," Jason said with a laugh. "I prefer discretion, and Curt woul
d have needed to scream it from the rooftops. Besides, he's always felt like a pain in the neck younger brother. I guess I can't really blame him for being so bold, though."
Chris blushed and stared at the floor. "I felt like a piece of meat."
Jason laughed again. "You really aren't used to this, are you?"
Chris shook his head, wishing that the elevator would get them to their floor already.
Finally, a chime announced their arrival on the tenth floor, and the doors parted. Chris stepped quickly into the hallway, feeling the need to escape the uncomfortable turn the conversation had taken. A quick glance in Jason's direction reminded him that there was a dangerous attraction brewing between them, and he wasn't yet willing to face it head-on.
They had no trouble finding their room, and Chris was relieved that Curt had been honest when he assured them their lodgings had separate beds.
He glanced at the digital clock and groaned. It was nearly two in the morning. "It's way past my bedtime," he said, sitting down on the bed. His eyes felt like they had sand in them, and he was starting to develop a headache.
"You'll have lots of time to rest tomorrow. I'm going to poke around and see what I can find out about Sylvia Hopkins. And you"---
Jason flopped onto his own bed, placed his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes---"you have to stay in the room."
"Wait a minute---"
"No arguments," Jason said, rolling onto his side and looking at Chris seriously. "We're playing in Brunner's sandbox now. He has connections in this city. If he gets tipped off that you're here, that would be very bad."
"You're the one who had a run-in with the knife," Chris countered.
"You're in just as much danger as I am."
"I am a trained professional. I know how to take care of myself in situations like that."
Chris opened his mouth to speak, and Jason raised a hand, cutting off any further argument. "You're in strung-out shape. You need the downtime."
"You think I'm going to be able to rest knowing that you're out there with your neck exposed?"
"Chris, this isn't a game. These people play for keeps. I'd much rather you were back home in Seattle, but I need you here where I can look out for you. You're just going to have to trust me. You're going to have to stay put."
Chris wanted to argue, but he just didn't have the strength for it.
There was no denying Jason's logic, anyway. Instead of pressing the point, he stood and walked into the bathroom. He's right. What the hell would I do if someone attacked me? He had never been in a life-threatening situation before. It didn't make him feel any better about having to sequester himself in the hotel room, though. What was he going to do while Jason was out roaming around? Sit here and worry?
He flipped on the shower and stripped.
Damn him. Chris stepped into the shower. He let the hot water pour over him. Why couldn't Jason Kingsley have remained the conceited jerk he'd met just a few days ago? Why did he have to turn out to be so complex, so compelling? Why did he have to have sexy eyes that made Chris feel like a foolish teenager again? And why was he struggling to control the urge to abandon all of his good sense where Jason Kingsley was concerned?
He allowed the water to run over his face, and he gritted his teeth against the turmoil.
Why couldn't his life ever be made up of simple choices?
After he had been in the hot shower for a long while, exhaustion overwhelmed him. He switched the water off and stepped out. The hot water had eased his travel-weary muscles, if not the persistent frustration and confusion that danced dizzy pirouettes through his troubled mind.
He toweled off, slipped back into his underwear and T-shirt, and turned off the bathroom light.
As he rounded the corner into the room, he stopped short.
Jason had removed his clothes and was asleep atop the covers. In the scant light filtering in through the heavy draperies, Chris could see every plane and angle that composed his lithe frame. His body was as perfectly made as his bewitchingly handsome face. His broad chest dipped into a flat, defined stomach, and his legs were firm and muscular.
Strong arms held tightly to the spare pillow.
For a few seconds Chris stared, transfixed. His heart skipped in his chest. He knew exactly what it was like to be pressed against that hard form, to be cradled in those strong arms. There was some indefinable quality about Jason that spoke directly to the deepest part of him. The feelings he aroused were wholly unfamiliar. Michael had never affected him in this way.
Jason stirred, and Chris tore his eyes away, casting them demurely aside. He hurried into his own bed, pulled the covers up to his chin, and turned toward the wall. In the silence of the room, he was certain he could hear the pounding of his own pulse.
It was a very long time before he was able to go to sleep, and when he did, it was restless and fevered, his dreaming mind carrying him to places he would never otherwise go.
Chapter 9
JASON awoke shortly after seven o'clock and rolled out of the bed. He wasn't the kind of person to lounge once he'd awakened. When he was up, he was up.
He smiled softly at Chris. With the covers pulled up to his chin and his face awash in the morning sun, he looked so peaceful, so content.
Without the air of melancholy draped about him like a shroud, he seemed almost angelic as he slumbered.
Jason showered quickly and noticed, with some relief, that his morning ablutions had not awakened Chris. With a last glance to assure himself that everything was as it should be, he slipped into the hallway and made his way back to the lobby.
Once outside the hotel, he took out his cell phone and dialed the office. Lisa answered on the third ring.
"Jason, where are you? It's all over the news."
Jason stepped onto the sidewalk and headed north along Las Vegas Boulevard.
"What's all over the news?"
"Jeffrey Cross. He's dead."
Jason stopped in his tracks and gaped. "What?" His stomach lurched. "Cross is dead?"
"And they think you did it. I have a couple of detectives headed over here as we speak."
"But I didn't," he protested.
"Come on, I know that. Several witnesses reported that you and Christian James had a confrontation with him at Lafferty's yesterday. His employees said he left shortly afterward, acting like he was scared."
"Chris was a little upset and caused a scene," Jason admitted.
"And he's missing too. They sent someone to question him, and it looks like he left in a hurry. They think it's all very suspicious, especially considering what happened with his partner and his daughter."
"Damn Callahan. He's probably strutting around telling everyone how he knew Chris was a killer all along." Jason scanned the street, searching for danger in the milling crowds. "This is not good."
"Where are you?"
"Las Vegas. I was attacked in my apartment last night---"
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. The guy who came after me is in much worse shape, I can assure you."
"You don't think Chris James killed Jeffrey Cross, do you?"
"Impossible. He's with me."
"What do you want me to tell the police?"
Jason thought about it. "You can't lie to them. They'll eventually get a warrant and check the phone records." He moved out of the flow of foot traffic and huddled against a wall. "Damn it. I wish I had known. This situation is just going from bad to worse."
"I'll tell them that you called but didn't say where you were."
"Good. That's good. Give them my files on Chris James, but get rid of the notes from our interview with Cross. It wouldn't take much to figure out where we went, and I don't want them alerting the Las Vegas police just yet. They'll find that out as soon as they check airline passenger manifests, but they won't think of that for a while." Nothing he could do about the record of their trip, now.
Shit. A ticking clock. Just what I needed.
"Li
sten, Lis, I need you to do something else for me," he said.
"Name it."
"Wire ten thousand into the Big Sky Partners account."
"You want me to make some fake invoices to back it up like last time?"
"I love you."
"Gross," she replied. "The funds will be there in a few---" She stopped talking abruptly. "Gotta go, Mom," she said. "Take care of yourself, okay?"
Jason understood the message. "You too, Lis." He disconnected.
He stood with his back to the wall for several minutes. Cross was dead. He couldn't believe it.
Brunner's boldness seemed to know no bounds. So much for subtle complexity. Brunner's style had definitely changed. He used to be a con artist, given to grand and elaborate schemes, but he had also been sly.
This was far more brazen than Jason would ever have expected from him.
There were very, very high stakes here. What the hell was so special about Chris? What the hell did Brunner want from him? Where or what was the Heart of the Jungle?
Obviously, Chris was never supposed to have found out what had happened to Michael and his daughter. It seemed ever more certain that they were still alive. Something big was going down. Something big enough to cause splash damage to anyone who got too close to Chris.
One innocent bystander had already died. He couldn't risk allowing that to happen again.
We have to act fast. He moved back onto the sidewalk and continued purposefully along the Strip.
He was anxious to have a look at the nightclub Sylvia Hopkins owned and determine whether it would be possible to use stealth to infiltrate her penthouse.
After several minutes of hard walking, he turned right and made his way east along the connecting block. This early in the day, it was relatively quiet off the Strip. Paradise was particularly sedate.
Interspersed among the convenience stores and smaller casinos, there were a few modern condominium complexes, one or two restaurants, and several nightclubs. This part of Las Vegas was likely to be abustle once the sun went down, but in the light of day, it seemed impossible that the hammering heart of the city throbbed only one block to the west.
