Vegas Series: Six-book Boxed Set (Hot Romance & Powerful Suspense)

by Mimi Barbour

  This seemed to please Noel and he nodded. “Okay.”

  “I’m going to get our suitcases and you can go to your room and gather the toys you want to have with you, okay?” Lisa lowered him to the floor and almost gave into the tears when he grabbed her around the knees and hugged with all his might. Then he disappeared into his room and she could hear him talking to his favorite stuffed dog. The doorbell’s peal forced her to gather her thoughts, and as was her custom in moments of stress, she tugged the clips from her hair and scratched at the tightness in her scalp.

  Another chime made her hurry. Before she unlocked, she checked the peephole, and then loosened her grip on the gun hidden behind her leg and motioned to Noel to go back to his room.

  Opening the door to the extent of the chain, weapon ready, she questioned the stranger in a voice that meant business. “Can I help you?”

  Once he heard the tone, the medium-sized good-looker pranced in place showing his nervousness and swung the professional looking camera on his shoulder toward the back. His brown eyes held a familiarity for Lisa that had her mind roving, trying to come up with who this man resembled.

  “Are you Lisa Jordan, Carly Jordan’s sister?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m a friend of Carly’s.”

  Relaxing her stance, Lisa put her gun back in its side holster, unlocked the chain and opened the door further.

  “May I come in and speak with you? I have a personal issue that I need to discuss. If we could just spend a few minutes talking and you could talk with me and answer some questions—”

  “Hold it. Who are you? You’re not making any sense here. What’s your name and how do you know my sister?”

  The man grasped his camera strap and ran his hand up and down, nerves giving him some problems. “Yes. Okay. My name is Hank Beckman and I’m Noel’s father.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  What the fuck? Lisa’s instinctive reaction was to kick the son-of-a-bitch in the stomach for shocking the shit out of her and then slam the door. That was, until his big brown shiners gave her the same yearning plea she got from Noel whenever he wanted something that he figured wasn’t going to happen but he’d give it a shot anyway.

  “Come in. And wait here. Don’t move.”

  Lisa went into Noel’s room and found him lying on the floor with his head pillowed by his stuffed doggy friend. He had one knee bent with the other balanced on it, his toes wiggling as if to a tune only he heard. Clutched in his hands was a favorite book.

  “Hey, I thought you were packing?” She waited in the doorway so she could keep an eye out for her unwanted guest.

  Noel glanced over and smiled in his totally loveable way. “Do I have to rush?”

  “No, in fact take your time. Auntie has a guest and I’d like you to stay in your room until I call you. Can you do that?”

  “Sure.”

  “Promise?”

  “Okay, I promise.”

  “Good. I’ll call you when there’s an all clear.”

  “Like the game, hide and go seek?”

  “Exactly.” Lisa blew him a kiss, closed the door and motioned for Hank to follow her into the kitchen. Rounding the island, she headed straight for the coffee pot. Since it was the morning and a shot of alcohol didn’t’ make any sense, she opted for the next best calmative—a strong shot of caffeine.

  “You want coffee?” Playing for time, she whipped around the room. Using her fancy machine, she had cups set out in a matter of a few minutes. All the while, thoughts whirled around in her brain. There were a lot of questions involved. If the answers weren’t acceptable, the dude was outta here. Once she had the sugar and cream on the counter, she pulled the second bar stool around the opposite side so she could watch his expression, see any inconsistencies when she drilled him. Needing to let her heartbeat settle, she grabbed a scrunchie from the drawer and fixed her hair in a loose ponytail to the side, away from her face. Finally, perched and ready, she said, “Shoot.”

  “What do you want to know?” he asked. It disturbed her now that Hank Beckman couldn’t look her in the eye.

  “Excuse me? You came and knocked on my door.”

  “Yes. I don’t mean to be rude. It’s just that everything is crazy in my brain that I can’t make any sense unless I have a concrete question to answer. I wasn’t trying to be a jerk,” he muttered. This time he let her see the worry, the frazzled fear he couldn’t hide. She also picked up on the need that drove him. The full blast of his sincerity had Lisa lowering her gaze. Ernest honesty got her every time and she felt it working on her same as always. “Fine. Why didn’t Carly want to talk about you? Ever.” Lisa had no problem getting to the root of the issue she way she saw it.

  His hand worked at the camera strap, his fingers kneading the leather as his shock from her question dissipated slowly. “I should have expected that. Carly used to amaze me with her ability to cut to the chase also. I guess she didn’t want to talk about me because I let her down.” This time he lowered his face into his unsteady left hand and worked at the stubble on his chin. “I wasn’t there for her.”

  “Which means?”

  “When we met, I fell for Carly—hard. At the beginning, I made a huge mistake. I never told her I was married.”

  Mistake! Lisa almost fell off her perch. Crazy fool! Her sister would have considered that to be the ultimate in unacceptable stupidity.

  “Being a selfish jerk, I took the easy road. We had months together, the best months of my life. Being a foreign correspondent, I spend a lot of time out of the country so when Carly and I met, I led my wife to believe I was away on an assignment.” He took a swallow of coffee and then another and another.

  Not willing to take over the conversation, she waited.

  Finally, he continued. “My marriage held no real interest for me other than to make life more comfortable. We weren’t close for a long time. My wife seemed to get off on having a semi-celebrity for her husband. So I left things alone.”

  “Easy way out for you, wasn’t it?”

  “Sure, I’m an easy-way out kinda asshole.” His lips tightened.

  “What happened when Carly discovered your secret?”

  “At the doctor’s office, she read one of my earlier bios, which included information about my marriage. In her aggressively blunt way, she ripped a strip off me, made me admit I had no divorce and sent me packing.”

  “And that was it? You dumped her and left her to have Noel on her own?” Lisa shot bolts of fire at the whiner sitting in front of her.

  “You hate me and I don’t blame you. Look, I never knew she was pregnant. She locked me out… would have nothing to do with me. I tried to contact her.” The man in front of her seemed to shrink even more as his shoulders slumped and his hands incessantly rubbed his knees. “First thing, I split from my wife, sent a copy of my divorce to Carly and begged her to give the two of us a second chance.” Beckman stared at his hands as if he couldn’t figure out what to do with them. Then he crossed his arms and tucked them under to hide their trembling.

  “She refused,” Lisa said, knowing without a doubt that would be her sister’s ultimate decision.

  “Yes. Said she couldn’t trust me. That she’d had enough people let her down in her life and wouldn’t take another gamble. I begged her.” His voice screamed honesty and Lisa knew he’d cared for her sister.

  She also knew that Carly could be pig-headed to the point of irrationality. Their earlier life hadn’t been easy. A father who’d let them down as children had driven the first spike and then countless uncles who did a number on them had left both girls afraid to commit. “So why are you here now?”

  “I want to get to know my son.”

  “Who told you about Noel?”

  “I went to see Carly to try again after my last job overseas. This time, I’d been gone almost eighteen months and had decided that, just maybe, Carly had missed me and might be more open to forgiveness. When I talked to the landlord, he told me a
bout Carly dying and about her sister adopting her son, Noel. Once I found out his age and pieced the time together, I knew he had to be mine.

  “You let her down. Now you want me to give you a chance at doing the same with Noel?” Lisa shot the remark at him, her voice full of venom and fear. Noel had become her whole world. She couldn’t lose him.

  “Relax. I know I can’t take him. My job means everything to me. It’s all I have now. However, I want him to know there’s a father out there that really loves him and will always be willing to help him if he ever needs me. In the meantime, Carly talked a lot about you. Knowing you’re her sister, I would trust my son with you. All I want to do is share. Maybe teach him things I’ve learned and let him know that his Dad isn’t a bastard.”

  Relief flooded, making her weak. She rubbed at her forehead, and then released her hair. The tightness of it being confined ramped up the headache that waited to attack now that the last pain pill had lost its effectiveness. She flipped the mass to the back of her head and held it there, trying to concentrate and find a way to deal with this situation. Knowing she had no choice, she said. “Right now, my job is requiring me to concentrate on something that could be a matter of life or death for a man I care about. I’m sorry, Hank, but your wants will have to go on the back burner.” Her voice sounded weak to her ears and she hoped he wouldn’t notice. When Hank went to say something, she held up her hand. “Look, I believe you’d be a good influence on Noel. Even at three, he’s showing signs of being a genius with a camera and if only for that reason, maybe—and I’m saying maybe you should be in his life. Give me time. Leave me your card and I’ll get back you. Right now I need to percolate what you’ve told me and decide how to approach Noel about you.” Beckman’s lips tightened as if he had trouble to contain his arguments. Lisa knew it had to be hard. Then again, she needed time.

  “I’d hoped I could finally meet him today.”

  “Not gonna happen.”

  He tried the beseeching look once more but she pointed to the door and he got the message. “You’re right. I’ll wait for your call. And Lisa? Thank you.” He gripped her hand and then stood. Lisa heard the door close behind him but couldn’t move.

  She shook her head, wanting to clear away all the emotion that flew around inside like fall leaves in a strong wind. Good Lord, could there be anything else for her to deal with? Now she needed to approach a three-year-old child about a missing father. She couldn’t put it off. The future may hold danger for her and letting things hang wasn’t her way. So, this subject needed to be broached. Thank goodness, Noel was pretty grown up for his age, probably came from being around adults a lot. She called his name. Walking to his room wasn’t to be risked. What if her legs collapsed and he found her in a big heap on the floor, a puddle of tears for him to slip in.

  “Auntie, I finished sorting my stuff. I left it on the bed ‘cause you didn’t bring me my suitcase.” The last time Lisa had let Noel pack his carry-on it had been filled with his favorite toys and books, not one pair of underwear or a t-shirt had found its way into the pile.

  “Good, I’ll come and help you. First, I wanted to talk with you about something. Come sit down and I’ll fix you lunch. “What’ll it be, peanut butter sandwich or toast with peanut butter?”

  His face was one big grin as Noel climbed onto a stool by himself and knelt there so he could see her clearly. “Can I have something different?”

  Playing along, she said, “Sure. What do you fancy, sir?”

  “How ‘bout bread with lots of peanut butter? And honey?”

  “That’ll cost you extra.”

  “Okay. Put it on my tab.” The giggles overcame him as he played along with their usual nonsense. It happened pretty regularly, Lisa decided she was caretaking the world’s most brilliant and precocious three-year-old and she didn’t mind a bit.

  Soon, Lisa sat across from him while the smell of peanut butter almost made her sick. Her own sandwich full of tomatoes and lettuce tasted like sawdust and it was all she could do to chew the bite in her mouth without gagging. All the while organizing their lunch along with her thoughts, she’d let Noel ramble on about the playground where Mattie took him every day. Lisa knew she had to broach the subject of his father and she had no idea how he felt about the issue since it had never come up before. Tuning in on his rambling, she asked. “So… you like the playground? Do a lot of the kids come there with their parents?”

  “Uh huh. Mostly their mommies.”

  “I bet you’d like to be able to go there with a daddy though so he could push you on the swings and catch you when you came down the slide.”

  “I don’t have a daddy.” Noel dropped that telling line and then took a huge bite of his sandwich, milk and peanut butter coating the side of his mouth.

  Swallowing, hesitating, Lisa decided she couldn’t stop there. So she dove in. “Would you like to have a daddy?”

  “Nope.” Noel took another drink from his glass, his gulp sounding noisy and endearing to Lisa who waited for him to continue. “There’s a little kid at the park whose daddy yells at him all the time. It scares him. One day he peed his pants and his daddy spanked him. Mattie got mad and told him off.”

  Okay! That got logged. Lisa continued, “Not all daddies are like that, Noel.”

  “Yeah but some are.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jeff understood that he was in deep shit. Both characters, Troy and Sam who’d hogtied him to the ornate chair in his own hotel, had no sympathy for his predicament whatsoever. Another thing that became apparent as the day wore on, neither were in control. It was as if their strings were being pulled by a puppet-master they talked with on the phone every so often. In Jeff’s mind, that person could be none other than Ben Stokes himself. Once that realization became clearer, Jeff’s worry for his own father doubled. If he understood the situation correctly, they were holding him to terrify Waters senior. Most likely, part of their revenge plan. Make the old man sweat. Then get them both for the money that had to be at the bottom of this scheme. No doubt, if either he or his father got hurt or even killed during the hostage taking, then for those two losers, it would sweeten the pot.

  If he could offer them the money and bypass everything else, Jeff would do it in a Vegas minute. However, he had no doubt they’d laugh and taunt him worse. As much as he disliked his jailers, he’d prefer either one over his own rioting thoughts. Left alone for the last hour after Sam got progressively drunker and passed out, Jeff’s brain screamed for interaction. He had no doubt that Troy was below in the casino, gambling. He’d told Sam he was going to get something to eat but Jeff knew that look, a glazed kind of neediness in the eyes of all gamblers who couldn’t stop themselves.

  Another hour passed while Jeff thought he’d go mad. He needed the toilet again and the craving to move his limbs maddened him. Stiffness and aching in his back, arms and knees had him close to begging. For a man constantly on the move, they couldn’t have chosen a better torture. “Hey Sam, stop that snoring and wake up.” Jeff yelled at the figure passed out on the modern sofa nearby.

  No movement at all.

  When they’d removed the tape from his mouth, Jeff had promised to stay quiet, not that he wouldn’t break that promise if he thought he’d be found. On the other hand, whistling hadn’t been mentioned at all. The shrill sound did the trick and Sam came to, woozy but moving.

  Not happy to be woken, he said with a definite growl to the words, “Stop that fucking noise or I’ll stop it for you.”

  “Sorry man. I have a problem here and you’re my keeper. Let me free so I can use the can.”

  “Piss yourself, I don’t care.”

  “Not that problem.” Jeff was the one to growl now.

  “Shit!”

  “Precisely.”

  “Okay, hold on.”

  “Been doing that too. Can’t for much longer.”

  A few moments later, Sam untied Jeff. The alcohol-drenched sap had been forced to help him walk int
o the small guest washroom they’d appropriated for his use. Stupid, useless room had no windows, only a toilet, a sink and a mirrored wall. Nothing at all for him to use as a weapon. He’d checked.

  Soon, stumbling back to the area they’d been holding him in this the morning, the outer room where normally hotel guests liked to entertain, Sam half carried Jeff toward the chair. The door from the connecting suite sat open. On purpose, Jeff dropped to the floor. “Man, just let me lie here for a while in a different position. My body is so stiff, I can barely walk.” Jeff might have been over-acting, but Sam didn’t need to know that.

  “No, I’ll get in trouble.” Sam went to lift Jeff, his gun tucked away in the waistband of his pants. Still playing the cripple, heart thumping, Jeff let Sam take most of his weight so his hand would be free to grab the weapon. A tug then a solid push and Jeff had the muzzle trained on the man lying next to him.

  “Don’t move, Sam. Not. An. Inch.”

  Dismay dilated his pupils, punctuated by flashes of anger as Sam obeyed. “What now?”

  “Sam, tell me, what’s this all about?” Jeff had trouble holding the heavy Glock in fingers still numb.

  “Your family owes ours. We wanted to get what’s coming to us.” The scarred face shut down after he’d said those words and Jeff knew why seconds before pain seared his skull and blackness descended.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Heavy-hearted, torn between love for the semi-orphaned little boy she adored and a missing man she wanted as if her next true smile would depend on him being alive, Lisa had to clear her mind and do her job. She quickly organized her belongings in the hotel room Jonathon Wimbly assigned to her and then took the time to peruse the files in her inbox that Ham had emailed. The one’s they’d gathered on the Stokes family in the early years. She saw many photographs of them as a couple at mining functions, usually accompanied with the Jim and Gloria Waters. There were also family pictures at parks and barbecues where she spent an inordinate amount of time paying attention to the chubby, curly-haired little fellow clinging to Gloria’s hand. Another article that caught her attention was when the local paper had highlighted Carol Stoke’s paintings at a small art exhibit. The woman certainly had talent.