Still, there was a line. And as furious as Lawson was at this man for trying to kill him, an action that would have ultimately taken him from his daughter for good, it was a line he couldn’t cross. Lawson wasn’t willing to live up to what he thought Lauren would want as far as letting everything go. But he couldn’t deny her voice when it came to killing this man. Her voice may very well be the only conscience he had left. She always was a better person than he was anyway, so he knew he should probably listen to her.
17
The sun had begun its ascent into the clear Las Vegas sky. It had still been dark when Lawson finished his five-mile run down Las Vegas Boulevard, but as he did the last of his four hundred push-ups, streaks of light worked their way around the curtain against the far wall of his hotel room. His new hotel room at Bally’s just across the street from the Flamingo. After Lawson let the FBI hit man go free, he knew he couldn’t hang around the same hotel. And after checking into his new room, he also couldn’t sleep. Thoughts of his daughter, his beloved dead wife, and all the people that seemed to be working together to betray him kept churning through his mind. For him, there were really only two ways to work through those types of thoughts: exercise, or drowning them with drinks. The latter wasn’t an option, because today, more than any other day in his life, he needed clarity.
Lawson finished his shower and took a seat at the end of the bed. The run helped him organize his thoughts from a jumbled mess, but he still had little clarity. He grabbed the notebook beside him and once again flipped to the last page. He needed a place to start, and this list of names would help. The first name on the list was Tony De Luca. Father of Nero. This was the most obvious place to start, it always had been. He knew that it couldn’t have been a coincidence that as he and Cassie were closing in on Tony and his operations ten years ago, everything went haywire. And even though it was obvious that the De Luca family had every reason in the world to do something about Lawson, he never fully suspected Tony of masterminding the crimes against Lawson and his family, because he would have had no idea that Lawson had been so close to nailing him all those years ago.
However, now that it was clear that Billings, Lawson’s former superior and now the head of the FBI, wanted him dead, Billings could have also informed Tony De Luca that they were close to bringing Lawson down. It was really the only thing that made sense, but why would a man who was clearly ascending the ranks of the FBI feed De Luca information? Lawson had never been naive, he knew that money rules the world, but he never saw Billings as that type of man. But could he even trust his own radar anymore? His partner and best friend hadn’t seemed the type either, but now he just didn’t know. And the thought of her also being against him made him nauseous.
Lawson got dressed in his all-black attire once again, fitted the Beretta in the back of his belt line, and began to brew a small pot of coffee. He needed a place to get started today, and while all he wanted to do was go and take out his rage on everyone that ever worked for the De Lucas, he wouldn’t be able to do anything until he knew for sure whether or not Cassie was his enemy. He pulled his phone from his pocket, the one De Luca had given him. He left the one from Cassie at the Flamingo for obvious reasons. He grabbed the phone book in the dresser drawer, found the number he was looking for, and dialed it.
He knew it was a long shot, but he literally had no one else in the world that he could try.
“High Desert State Prison, how may I direct your call?” a female voice answered.
“John Simpson, please.”
“Is he in the office or in the prison?”
“He’s a guard.”
“I’ll page him, whom shall I say is calling?”
Lawson smiled to himself. “The next UFC champ.”
“Whatever you say. Please hold.”
As the coffee continued to brew and Lawson waited for John to come on the line, he grabbed the remote and flipped on the television. Four terrible commercials later, the line clicked over.
“Lawson? Is this really you?”
“It is. You miss me?”
“Miss you? With all these wonderfully engaging people surrounding me all day, how could I?”
“I need your help.”
While it was good to hear a familiar voice, Lawson didn’t have time to waste.
“Uh-oh. I don’t like the sound of that.”
“It’s nothing big,” Lawson explained, “I just want to get a hold of my old partner in the FBI. Go see her actually. Any way you can find out where she lives?”
“Did you google her?”
“I don’t have access to a computer.”
“You have a phone, don’t you?”
Lawson paused for a moment, pulling the phone from his ear and looking at it.
“Lawson? You still there?”
He put the phone back to his ear. “This thing has internet, doesn’t it?”
“Sure does, it is 2018, ya know. But that doesn’t mean it will show her address. I’m close with some people at the police department. Let me make a call. Give me your number and I’ll call you back.”
Once again, Lawson stopped and looked at his iPhone. Clueless. “I have no idea what this number is.”
“How’d you get the phone? You sure I should be looking up this address for you? You’re not going to get me in any trouble, are you?”
“I won’t. Can you help me out?”
John walked Lawson through the steps for how to see what his own phone number was. Then John sent him a text from his cell phone so Lawson would have his personal number. They ended the call, and just as Lawson was walking over to get a cup of coffee, he heard the words “District Attorney Evelyn Delaney” on the television. When he glanced over, the video on the television was of a crime scene. Lawson rushed over to the remote and upped the volume.
Police Chief Phillip Walters confirmed just a few moments ago that it was in fact the body of District Attorney Evelyn Delaney that was found by a jogger just over an hour ago. There are no further details at this time as to cause of death or suspects, but she was found dead in a ditch just outside her home in palatial Falcon Ridge. Chief Walters said he will be holding a press conference later this afternoon to give a statement about this tragic apparent murder.
Lawson stared blankly at the television. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Just a few hours ago he had a hired gunman tell him that Evelyn Delaney wanted him dead, and now it was her who had been killed. This couldn’t be a coincidence. Lawson’s old detective senses were tingling. But he didn’t have time to indulge them because the reporter once again grabbed his attention when she moved on to her next story.
Chief Walters also gave a brief statement about what happened at Caesar’s Palace last night, saying, “It is confirmed that there was in fact a shooting in one of the suites last night. Two people were killed. We do have video of the suspect leaving the scene . . .”
Lawson’s stomach dropped. He knew exactly what was coming next, and when he saw video on the TV of him entering the elevator at Caesar’s Palace, it confirmed to him that yet another one of the names on his list, Chief Phillip Walters, was in fact in on everything that happened ten years ago. It was the only way they would have shown Lawson so quickly to the public.
“His name is Lawson Raines. He is six-foot-four, two hundred and thirty pounds. If you see him, consider him armed and very dangerous. We do have reason to believe that the murder of DA Delaney and the shooting at Caesar’s Palace are connected. That’s all I can tell you at this time.”
So much for his new hotel room.
The screen flashed back to the reporter, and this time there was a still photo of Lawson’s old mugshot over her right shoulder. Fortunately for him, that was ten years, a longer haircut, and about thirty pounds less muscle ago, so the photo didn’t look exactly like him. Lawson knew the reason they used his mugshot was because the one taken at Caesar’s Palace when he got on that elevator would have been indistinguishable. Lawson knew there was a
camera recording him, so he had kept his head down in case someone was looking. He also knew that it would be just a matter of time before they pulled another, better image off another camera that he passed last night. Once that photo was out, he would have a hard time not being noticed. So he needed to work fast.
Lawson turned off the TV and stood quiet for a moment, staring at his dark reflection on the blank screen. He was really in a tight spot now. He should have listened to Cassie. He should have gone to see her contact to get new paperwork. He should have never indulged his thirst for revenge, there were just too many people working against him. He had always thought so, but now he knew for sure. And now all of Las Vegas would be on the lookout for him. He had blown his chance to get his daughter back. He would never be able to get out of these new crimes they were accusing him of. Chief Walters had too many people in his corner to cover up what really happened to Delaney, and he would pin it on Lawson. That was obviously what was going on. In no investigation would you tie two seemingly completely different crimes, like the shooting in his suite and Evelyn Delaney’s murder, together. They would need to gather much more substantial evidence. But when the chief of police has an agenda, like he did against Lawson, and you want someone found, this is exactly what you do: you get the entire city looking for him.
Lawson’s only defense if he got apprehended would be that everyone was setting him up, but who would ever believe that? He had zero evidence. And there was no way he could find a way to prove it to anyone. And anyway, unless it was irrefutable proof, no one would believe a convicted murderer over the chief of police. Pardon or no pardon. The case that Walters was building against Lawson now would just confirm to everyone that he was guilty not only of these new crimes but the murder of his wife as well.
He was done.
18
Lawson took a deep breath, cracked his neck, and began to take off his sport coat. But before he got it off, a thought stopped him. If all these people were working together, they had to be communicating somehow. So maybe there was some sort of trail to that knowledge. Lawson pulled his sport coat back on and walked into the bathroom, propping himself up on the sink as he leaned into the mirror to take a hard look at himself. It was time for what his father would call a “come to Jesus meeting.” With himself.
The way he saw it, he had two options. One: if he continued down this path of vengeance, it would most likely lead to him either dead or back in jail. Almost a 100 percent chance in fact. Which would still leave Lexi without her father. At this point he didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Two: if he left Las Vegas right then, he could get to Lexi in about a day. But then what? Take her from the only home she’s ever known and make her live a life on the run with a father she doesn’t even know? A father she probably thinks killed her own mother? No matter how much Lauren had disagreed with her sister, Lexi’s life had to be better there than on the run with him. Even if he somehow convinced her he didn’t kill her mother. Eventually that scenario would also lead to him dead or in prison. And maybe scarring Lexi even further in the process. Plus, everyone that conspired against him would get off scot-free. Well, except of course for Evelyn Delaney.
Option two wasn’t an option at all.
A lightbulb went off in his head.
Even if there was just the slightest possibility in the world he could bring all of this down on the people out to get him, he had to take that chance. All it took was just the slightest opening. And the lightbulb moment was maybe just the minuscule piece of thread he needed. Maybe if he could pull the string just right, this entire garment of betrayal would unravel.
Lawson poured himself a cup of coffee, sat down on the bed, and opened his notebook. He took a Bally’s ink pen from the end table and drew a line through Evelyn Delaney’s name. Above her name was Phillip Walters, Tony and Nero De Luca, and Adam Billings. If Evelyn hired two men to kill him last night, then ended up dead herself before anyone knew whether Lawson was still alive or not, that meant she had gone against someone, and they punished her for it. Chief Walters was definitely in on it, but Lawson doubted he would do something as brazen as having her killed. And it was clear that if FBI Director Adam Billings had put a hit on Lawson for the same night Evelyn had, they obviously weren’t on the same page. So one of the two of them was working on their own. And it made sense that if Evelyn was still connected in Las Vegas, it probably meant that Director Billings was the one out of the loop. And since Evelyn was dead, he figured there was only one person who would be so public about dealing with her in the way he had.
Nero De Luca.
It had been right there in front of his face the entire time. He had always sensed that Nero stepped up for his father, Tony, to make Lawson go away. Billings must have let the De Lucas in on how close Cassie and Lawson were to taking them down. And Nero must have made the moves to make sure Lawson’s case against him disappeared for his dying father.
Lawson was furious with himself. Just last night he was in the same room with the man who murdered his wife, and he did nothing about it. In fact, he had agreed to help him. And that is when another realization hit him. Nero’s organization must really be weak at the moment. So weak that instead of just having Lawson killed, he wanted––needed––Lawson to help take down Sokolov for him. The only reason he would risk that was if he felt like the De Luca stronghold was about to die.
“The balls on that son of a bitch,” Lawson said to the empty hotel room.
Nero must have been so confident he could manipulate Lawson that he risked everything to get his help with Sokolov. And that is why Evelyn Delaney was dead. Nero knew that her actions in hiring a hit man for Lawson could expose him, just like it had. He knew Lawson would be able to put it together if he found out. And Lawson knew then that was why Johnny tried to call him last night. If Lawson had answered, Evelyn would probably still be alive. But because he didn’t, Nero assumed that Lawson was dead, and that meant Lawson couldn’t help Nero take down Sokolov, which would ruin his plan to stay on top, and Evelyn paid the ultimate price for it.
What Nero De Luca didn’t know in that moment, however, was that he should have been praising Evelyn. And he should have prayed that her hired guns actually had killed Lawson. Because Lawson still being alive now meant Nero De Luca’s fate was much worse than losing the organized crime race.
He was going to lose his life.
Lawson knew that Nero was now aware of that too, so he would be pulling all his men to find Lawson first. Same reason Chief Walters was so quick to put Lawson on blast in the news this morning as well. The two of them were preparing for war. And there was no way one man could survive Walter’s police force, and De Luca’s army of gangsters. Not even Lawson Raines. He needed help, and the only way a man without friends can find help is to get it from someone who wanted the De Luca family gone as much as he did.
Serge Sokolov.
19
Lawson finished his coffee and packed up his duffel bag. He wanted to be ready to move as soon as John got him Cassie’s address. All the revelations that had occurred in the last half hour meant nothing to him until he found out for sure if Cassie was on his side or not.
His cell phone dinged. Sure enough, John had come through.
Thank you, Lawson texted back. He had to retype it three times to get the words spelled right. His thumb kept hitting two keys at once.
A half hour later, a taxi dropped Lawson three houses down from Cassie’s address. Lawson had left his bag behind in the hotel room, and he had decided to destroy the notebook as well. He had run the bath and made sure the pages were destroyed before he left. He didn’t need it anymore, but he had to make sure no one else got their hands on it either. It felt good to be rid of it. It was the only physical thing left to remind him of his time in prison. Besides, the names on the list were burned into his memory at that point. Cassie’s being the only question mark left.
He adjusted his sport coat and quickly walked toward the backyar
d of the house in front of him. There was a car in Cassie’s driveway. He hoped he could catch her before she left for work. He also needed to hurry to her house because he stood out like a sore thumb. A man in a suit walking a quiet suburban neighborhood wasn’t a common occurrence. No way he would pass for a Jehovah’s Witness. He would just go up to the front door and knock, but if Cassie wasn’t the woman he had always thought, she may try to evade him in some way. Better to catch her off guard.
He hurried to the back deck of Cassie’s house and sidled up to her back door. He was already sweating. It was only 8:30 in the morning, but it had to be in the nineties already. As he peered inside, the decor reminded him of Cassie immediately. You could see the Tennessee in all the furnishings. It also reminded him of his home with Lauren. Their home was in a neighborhood just like this, and Lauren and Cassie had similar Southern styles. He swallowed the longing feeling that had crept up to his throat and kicked in the door. The time for subtleties had passed.
He stepped inside the kitchen and immediately disliked how quiet it was. He pulled the Beretta from his waistline and perked his ears. He hoped that the silence was because she wasn’t home. But the car in the driveway suggested otherwise. He knew he should at the very least be hearing her footsteps as she raced to see what made the loud noise, but there was no movement at all.
Not good.
Lawson crept toward the hallway that led to the front door. There was a set of stairs that went up just inside of it. He walked down the hall and saw that the wood was splintered around the lock in the door. Someone had forced their way in. And that someone had just made a floorboard at the top of the stairs moan under their weight.
A gunshot rang out in the house, Lawson threw himself backward, landing with his back on the sofa. He pointed his gun up the stairs and fired off three rounds at the shadowed figure that darted behind the wall, averting his bullets. He heard a woman scream from a room upstairs. Cassie was still alive. He wasn’t too late.
When the Man Comes Around Page 8
