The doors closed. The elevator started to move and then stopped. Hugo jerked the pillow out from under my head and pressed it over my face. That’s when all pretenses ended. I fought like a wild woman, bucking and kicking. With my free hand, I scratched and pulled at his hands. When I finally freed the other hand from the tangle of the sheets, I stabbed him with the IV needle. He yelped, but didn’t let go. It was only when I turned my hand and stabbed him in the throat, that he released his grip on the pillow. As soon as he did, I rolled away from him off the side of the gurney. I watched as he pulled the needle from the side of his neck. Blood dripped from the hole it left.
He looked over the gurney at me, his eyes hard as ice. “I should have shot you when I had the chance.” He lunged over the top of the gurney, trying to wrap his hands around my neck.
I shoved the gurney as hard as I could. Instead of pinning him against the opposite wall as I had hoped, all it did was cause him fall back a few steps. The wires attaching me to the heart monitor pulled me with it, keeping me just out of reach the elevator buttons. I frantically pulled at the wires. He shoved the gurney back at me. I ducked under it just before it crashed against the wall. I could hear people screaming and pounding on the elevator doors. Trapped under the gurney with the cross bars of the legs pinning me against the wall, I watched with horror as he knelt down and reached through the bars, an evil grin on his face. I did the only thing I could do. It took every ounce of courage I possessed to look away from him, to find the emergency stop button. I flipped it to the off position just as his hands circled my neck.
I punched the open door button, just before I lost consciousness.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I woke up to see Delgado bending over me. Looking into his eyes I said, “Next time, could you try and get here before I pass out?” I was still on the floor of the elevator. I could see Hugo lying slumped against the wall on the other side. He was covered in blood. I couldn’t tell whether he was alive or dead, and frankly, I didn’t care.
Delgado closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, rocking back on his heels. “I don’t mind coming to your rescue woman, but this is getting ridiculous. Are you always going to be this much trouble?”
“More than likely. You should get out now while you can.”
He shook his head. “Now you tell me, after it’s too late. Couldn’t you have mentioned this before I fell in love with you?”
Bruised and broken, lying on the dirty floor of an emergency room elevator, my throat raw and blood dripping from my hand, was not exactly how I pictured this moment. Still, no matter what the circumstances were, he said he loved me, and I wasn’t about to let him take it back. I reached out, grabbed his shirt, and pulled him in for a kiss. Without breaking the kiss, he scooped me up in his arms and carried me out of the elevator.
***
Two days later, I sat on a white sofa in the front room of Delgado’s penthouse condominium, where he insisted on bringing me until they could arrest Darryl. It wasn’t your typical bachelor pad. In front of me, a wall of windows opened onto an enormous balcony overlooking the strip. The room was light and airy filled with light woods and pale colors, mimicking the desert. It made for a seamless transition.
Naturally, when he brought me home from the hospital, Delgado put me in the guest room. Always the perfect gentleman, he did not attempt to capitalize on the arrangement. In fact, I’d barely seen him. Of course, I’d been asleep most of the time, thanks to the pain pills the doctor prescribed.
This morning I was finally awake and relatively pain free when Delgado came in to tell me Darryl was now in custody, thanks to Hugo. It seemed that Hugo, still in the hospital recovering from a gunshot wound to the back, a broken arm, and a dislocated shoulder, inflicted when Delgado had thrown him across the elevator, wasn’t about to take all the blame.
Delgado left to listen in on the interrogation, promising to be home in time for dinner with a complete update. I called Mom and Charlene to join us. Naturally, Mom insisted on bringing dinner. After looking in the mirror, I booked an appointment for a haircut, facial, manicure, and pedicure at the salon downstairs, one of the many amenities of Delgado’s building.
Mom arrived early to pop her famous lasagna in the oven. Sitting at the breakfast bar in Delgado’s spacious kitchen, I watched as Mom made garlic bread and tossed a green salad.
Eyeing me critically she said, “In spite of all you’ve been through, you look happy.”
“I am happy. I’m happy it’s finally over.”
“It’s not just that. There’s a glow about you.”
“Oh please, not the glow. These rosy cheeks are from a facial, nothing more.”
“You and Nick haven’t?”
“No, we haven’t, and this is not a conversation I want to have with my mother. What about you and Brian?” I only asked to get back at her. I was horrified when she blushed. “Don’t tell me . . .?”
“No, No, nothing like that. It’s just that I like him. He’s the first man I’ve even looked at since your father died.”
The doorbell saved me. Charlene and Evan arrived with a bottle of wine. One look at Charlene’s radiant smile told me she and Evan had finally found some time together. Delgado and Brian followed close behind. They refused to tell us anything until after dinner.
“Okay, now that we’ve wined and dined, will you please tell us what happened today?” I begged. Delgado sat next to me on the couch with Mom on my other side. Charlene and Evan sat on the loveseat holding hands.
Delgado smiled, waving his hand at Brian who stood, leaning against the fireplace. “Since you’re the one conducting Hugo’s interrogation, you should go first.”
Brian nodded. “It’s all coming out, now that they’re each trying to negotiate a plea deal by testifying against the other. Between the two of them, we managed to piece together what actually happened. Hugo told us, on their way to the charity event Darryl received a text from Monica threatening to reveal everything, unless he agreed to meet with her at the Royal. Darryl used a wine spill on his tie as an excuse to be gone for a few minutes. Donning a chef’s coat, he slipped out through the kitchen, where Hugo picked him up and drove him across the street to the Royal. Hugo says he waited in the car while Darryl went in. A few moments later, Darryl came running out. He told him Monica was dead. When Hugo asked him what happened, Darryl said Monica was upset because her plan to discredit Valerie wasn’t working. She insisted Darryl divorce his wife and marry her now. When he refused, she attacked him, and he pushed her in self-defense. When he realized she was dead, he ran out. Hugo drove him back to the MGM, where he rejoined the charity event.”
Delgado picked up the story from there. “According to Darryl, Hugo went back to the Royal HR. Taking Monica’s cell phone and keys, Hugo searched her office and apartment for anything that would point to Darryl. Darryl had told him about Monica’s habit of writing in a diary. When Hugo didn’t find anything, they relaxed. Both of them claimed they had no reason to search Valerie’s house since they knew Monica would never give her anything.”
“Are you saying that the vandalism of my house was random, unrelated to Monica’s death?”
Brian shook his head. “No, it was definitely related. When we realized that they didn’t do it, we went back and re-interviewed the people Monica was blackmailing. Jerry McCrae admitted taking money from the fund to cover his gambling debts. However, he says, when Monica tried to blackmail him, he went to the International, confessed and repaid the money, which we confirmed with the International. He had no reason to kill Monica or search your house. Arnie Waters was working that night. That left Martin Sanders who finally confessed to breaking into your house. He believed Monica when she told him you were in on the blackmail.”
Charlene gloated, “See I told you it didn’t have to be the same person.”
“Was it Martin who cut my brake lines?”
Brian answered, “No. That was Hugo. When you mentioned to Darryl that Monica had tol
d you they were keeping in touch, he told Hugo. After dropping Darryl off at the corporate offices, Hugo went back to the Royal, stopped in to see his friend Warren in surveillance, and accidently on purpose shifted the camera in the parking garage. Then he went down and sliced through your brake lines. Just as we thought, it was meant as a warning.”
Delgado got up to get another cup of coffee, bringing the pot back with him. Refilling Charlene and Evan’s cups, he said, “Darryl didn’t really freak out until he found out Valerie went to St. Louis and met Monica’s mom and Mrs. Combs. The threatening note was their way of keeping the investigation centered in Las Vegas.”
Charlene spoke up. “That day he came in the office and saw the package from Mrs. Combs, I remember thinking that he was acting really weird. He went all pale staring at the package, but I thought it was because Alan kept insisting that it could be a bomb. That’s when I called you.”
I nodded. “Why did they wait until the next day to attack me?”
Delgado answered, “Because they had to establish an alibi for Darryl. Darryl was already scheduled to be in Los Angeles at a conference. Thursday after Darryl left your office, Hugo drove him to Los Angeles, where Darryl checked into the hotel. Then Hugo drove back here, and Darryl hitched a ride on a private plane with a high roller on his way to Las Vegas, the Dubai official. Darryl also arranged to fly back to Los Angeles the same way, giving him the perfect alibi. Their plan was to break in, drug Valerie, and then set fire to the house. With both Valerie and the diaries gone, there would be nothing to connect Darryl to Joey Green.”
I leaned over and kissed Delgado on the cheek. “Thanks to the alarm system you had installed, I managed to escape that fate. What I’ve never figured out is why Hugo didn’t just shoot me before dumping me in the desert.”
Brian answered, “That’s what Darryl expected him to do, but the only gun Hugo had was one that was registered to him. He knew if he shot you, we’d be able to trace the bullets back to his gun. Before he left the police force, he’d been involved in a shooting and he knew that the ballistics from his gun were already on file. Any bullet recovered from you would have showed up as an automatic match. He assumed that by leaving you far enough outside the city limits, you’d be dead long before we could find you. Just for good measure and to make sure you couldn’t walk back, he gave you a couple of good kicks to the ribs.”
Delgado put his arm around me. “Obviously he seriously underestimated you.”
I shivered, remembering the pain. “From what you told me in the hospital, even with my testimony, Darryl and Hugo were in the clear. Why did Hugo take the risk to try and kill me in the hospital?”
Brian perched on the arm of the couch next to Mom. “It was partly due to Hugo’s ego. He couldn’t stand being outfoxed by a mere woman. Hugo wanted you dead; therefore, you should be dead. Darryl, on the other hand, needed you dead. Everything Darryl has, his job, his wife, his reputation, is based on being Darryl Collins. Even if he continued to deny being Joey Green, once you told your story, there would always be doubt. He couldn’t afford to take that chance.”
We discussed the case for another hour. A short while later, Charlene and Evan left. Delgado’s arm tight around my shoulders kept me from reacting when Brian said he’d take Mom home. After they left, Delgado and I stood out on the balcony watching the lights below. We could see the shaft of light shooting up from the Luxor pyramid and the changing colors on the walls of the Royal.
When I shivered, Delgado put his arm around me. Turning to face him, I pulled his head down for a kiss. It was just like the first time. His lips burned into mine, inflaming every nerve throughout my body. My pulse raced, and I leaned into him, wanting to him to envelope me in his warmth. And, just like the first time, he broke the kiss and stepped away.
I felt rejected. “I thought you said you loved me.”
He looked puzzled. “I do.”
“Then why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Stop kissing me.”
He looked away from me, turning once more to the view below. “Because if I continued kissing you for one more minute, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from carrying you into the bedroom and ripping your clothes off.”
I slipped between him and the railing of the balcony, and put my arms around his neck. Smiling up at him, raising my eyebrows I said, “So who’s stopping you?”
He looked down at me. He wasn’t smiling. He took my arms from around his neck and stepped back. “You are.”
Waving my hand in front of his face I said, “Hello, I’m not the one backing away.”
He put his hands on my shoulders. “Really? Tell me, exactly how many men have you slept with?”
I pushed his hands away, turning back to face the view once more. “What’s that got to do with it?”
He moved so he was once more standing beside me. “Okay. I’ll tell you . . . one . . . and he was your ex-husband.”
I was starting to get angry. “What are you saying? That I don’t have enough experience for you?”
He snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Turning me to face him, he lifted my chin so that I had to look at him. “What I’m trying to say is sex isn’t recreation for you. It’s a commitment. I love that about you. But you’re not ready to make that kind of a commitment.”
“How do you know?” How could he know, when I didn’t know myself?
“Valerie, I know if I made love to you, I’d never want to stop. It would take over our whole relationship.”
At the moment, I rather liked that idea. “Still not seeing the downside here.”
He smiled then. “At some point, you’d begin to wonder if that’s all I wanted. You need time to be able to trust me, trust that I love you, and I won’t be leaving.”
“I trust you.” It came out feeble, not at all like I intended.
He paused, took a deep breath, and then said, “Really? What would you say if I asked you to marry me?”
Whoa, that’s not what I expected. My instant reaction was panic. “I’d say that marriage didn’t work out that great for me.”
He held his hands out in front of him. “Exactly, you think all men are like Neil.”
“No. It’s not that. I know you’re not like Neil.” It was hard to put into words, but I needed to make him understand. “You’re everything any woman could want. I feel extremely lucky to be here beside you. It’s just that I’m afraid someday you’ll realize that you deserve someone better than me.”
“I’ll admit that I’ve met more beautiful women, smarter women. . .
“Wow, way to make a girl feel better.”
He took me by the shoulders. “Would you just listen? I didn’t fall in love with any of them. I can’t tell you why I love you. Men don’t think like that. We don’t analyze love. I just know that I’ve never felt about any woman the way I feel about you. I also know that’s not going to change. When I make love to you, I want you to be able to give yourself to me without reservation. I’m not willing to settle for less.”
“So, what you’re saying is no sex until I’m willing to marry you?”
He dropped his hands, “I hadn’t really thought about it in those terms, but yes, I guess that is what I’m saying.”
We both turned back to the view. After several minutes, I sighed.
“What are you thinking?” he asked
“Now that Darryl and Hugo are in custody and I’m no longer in danger, I should probably go home.”
“Except, you don’t have a home to go to.”
“Thanks for reminding me. I don’t have a car either. My insurance company will probably be sending me a cancellation notice any day now. I guess that means back to Mom’s.”
“You could always stay here.”
“No, I don’t think I can.” I turned to face him putting my arms around his neck and looking deeply into those beautiful green eyes. “I don’t have your willpower. If I stayed, I’d be tempted to rip your clothes off. We migh
t not even make it to the bedroom.”
He groaned. “You’re not going to make this easy for me are you?”
I smiled up at him, “No, probably not.”
Here’s a taste of the next book
From Vicky De Leo
JEALOUSY
Chapter One
One, two, three, four, five, blood seeped through my fingers as I pumped as hard as I could on his heart. Kneeling beside him, covered in his blood, I stopped long enough to blow air into his lungs. Where was that ambulance? His eyes were closed. Long dark lashes fanned out against his cheeks. When I found him lying in the cold wet grass, in the shadow of the bushes next to my front door, he was still breathing, ragged gurgling breaths. How many minutes had passed since I’d heard him breathe on his own? My arms ached.
“Don’t die,” I told him again. “Damn you, don’t you dare die.” How could this happen? Why?
As I counted again, I strained to hear the scream of a siren. The open cell phone lay next to me on the grass where I dropped it after calling 911.
“Where’s that ambulance? Tell them to hurry,” I screamed, hoping the operator could hear me. If she answered, I didn’t hear. I was too busy trying to keep him alive. They always tell you to stay on the line. How you’re supposed to hold the phone, and do CPR at the same time was beyond me.
One, two, three, four, five. How long had he been here before I found him? It seemed like ages since I came home from work, turned into the driveway, and hit the garage door opener. My headlights illuminated the lawn, revealing a body lying next to my porch. I slammed on the brakes, threw the car into park, grabbed my cell phone off the seat, and bolted from the car. He was still alive. Blood gushed from the wounds in his back. I called 911and then dropped the phone. I slipped out of my jacket and laid it on the ground next to him, and then rolled him over and wrapped the sleeves around him, tying them together in front as tight as I dared, in an effort to create a kind of a pressure bandage to stop the bleeding.
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