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.
An arm reached around the wall, and just as two more shots were fired, Lawson rolled off the couch onto the floor, picked up the solid oak coffee table as he rose to his feet, and used it as a shield as he started up the stairs. The gunman fired a few more shots, two of them splintering the table, but Lawson kept charging. If Cassie was in fact upstairs, he had to get to her before these men could accomplish their mission. Whatever that might be.
The gunman fired two more errant shots, and Lawson heard the click of a gun with an empty magazine. He tossed the table over the rail, and as it crashed on the hardwood floor below, Lawson took the last five steps in two long strides. Just as he heard the gunman’s spare magazine lock into place, he rounded the corner and pinned the pistol against the wall. The gunman’s eyes were wide, and his breathing was heavy. This wasn’t a man who was used to these kinds of situations.
“Brandon!” the skinny, wide-eyed gunman managed, just before Lawson drove his forehead into the man’s nose.
The man shrieked and dropped to the floor clutching his face. Lawson grabbed his pistol.
“Cassie!” Lawson shouted as he tucked the extra pistol into his pants.
Cassie shouted back, “Watch out, Lawson! He’s got a gun!”
Upon Cassie’s cue, a much larger man with a bull neck rounded the wall of the far bedroom. By the look on his face, this man had seen situations like this far more frequently than his partner. He extended a pump-action shotgun in front of him and squeezed the trigger. Cassie giving Lawson the heads-up saved his life. He had managed to dive into the bedroom at the top of the stairs just in time to avoid the oncoming slug. Lawson jumped to his feet immediately after landing, and it was fast enough to catch the barrel of the shotgun before the nose made it down to his body. The blast filled the small room, sounding like a bomb had gone off.
As he gripped the business end of the man’s shotgun, he fired off a knee meant for the man’s groin, but he missed left, hitting him in the hip. It only managed to knock the big man backward, giving him separation to train his shotgun once again on Lawson. But Lawson leaped forward and caught the gun again, and he and the big man were now nose to nose. A tug-of-war for the shotgun. The red in the big man’s face showed surprise, he wasn’t used to having his strength matched. Lawson had the upper hand in this scuffle because his right hand was closest to the tip of the barrel. In a quick, upward motion, Lawson lifted the tip of the shotgun high in the air and twisted it left with all his might. It was enough to free the big man of the shotgun, but the power of the move sent it crashing against the wall.
Lawson didn’t hesitate. He surged forward and caught the big man in a Thai clinch, wrapping both hands around the back of his neck, controlling the man’s posture and movement.
“Big mistake, asshole,” said the big man as he pounded down, both his arms on top of Lawson’s arms in a smashing motion. The big man was shocked when it didn’t break Lawson’s grip. Lawson pulled down on the man’s neck as he jumped up and smashed his knee into his forehead. As the big man staggered back, Lawson kicked the man’s skinny partner in the ribs as he reached for the abandoned shotgun. Then Lawson caught the big man under both his arms as he charged into him. Lawson lifted him up, keeping the man from tackling him, then whipped around 180 degrees, throwing the big man toward the stair rail behind him as hard as he could. The man crashed into the rail, which buckled but held its ground. The man turned toward Lawson with a “that didn’t work” smirk on his face, but Lawson quickly closed in on him and front-kicked him through the rail.
Lawson only heard the big man land, he didn’t get the chance to see it. He pulled his Beretta, spun toward the skinny partner, and shot him twice in the chest as he raised the shotgun to shoot Lawson.
“Lawson! Are you okay? Lawson!” Cassie shouted from the back bedroom.
Lawson took two steps back, looked down where the rail used to be to the first floor, making sure the big man was in no condition to continue. His neck was turned in a manner that suggested he was finished, so Lawson moved toward the back bedroom.
“Lawson!” Cassie cried out again.
Lawson entered the bedroom and found Cassie standing with her hands tied to a post on the left side of the bed. Her face turned from elated to see him alive to horrified when he raised his gun toward her.
“Lawson, what the hell? That isn’t funny, put the gun down.”
Lawson didn’t lower his gun.
20
“Lawson, seriously. What the hell is wrong with you?” Cassie stared down the barrel of Lawson’s Beretta.
He ignored her question. “I had a visitor last night. At my room at the Flamingo. You know, the room that only you knew about.”
In the sunlight that poured in through the window to her left, Lawson watched Cassie’s face turn from shocked to hurt.
“Are you kidding me right now?”
“Does it look like I’m kidding?” Lawson stepped into the center of the room, gun still stretched in front of him.
“Why the hell would I give you the heads-up that someone was coming if I was just going to turn around and send them right to you?”
“For this very reason, Cassie. So in case I survived, you could have plausible deniability.”
Cassie’s face scrunched up in anger. “Plausible denia—Lawson, have you lost your damn mind? It’s me. Your only friend? Your old partner . . . remember?”
“Why didn’t you go after Adam Billings for setting me up while I was in prison?” Lawson continued to fire away. These questions had been swimming in his head for years.
“You mean Director of the FBI Adam Billings? And where—if I had any at all—would I take proof of one of the most powerful men in the country’s involvement in an organized crime scandal? If that is even what this is.”
“You know that’s exactly what this is, Cassie. The only thing that makes sense is that Billings fed the De Lucas information that we were about to shut them down. The only thing I can’t figure out is why he would do it and why nobody ever came after you. They only came after me. Pretty convenient, wouldn’t you say?”
“Lawson, since you have everything figured out, why don’t you just go ahead and shoot me. That is what you came here to do, isn’t it?”
Lawson didn’t like that question. Because he really didn’t know the answer. Did he really believe that Cassie could be involved? No. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t need to hear her say it. And it didn’t mean that he didn’t want some answers to some very pertinent questions. Lawson lowered the gun.
“Just answer my questions, Cassie.”
“I’m going to chalk this up to your mind being messed with all these years. Untie me, and I’ll answer your questions. Then we need to get the hell out of here. This is a quiet neighborhood. Someone definitely heard all the ruckus you just caused.” Cassie smiled.
Lawson wasn’t there yet. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
“Just untie me.”
Lawson did as she asked, and the two of them sat on the bed.
Cassie went to take Lawson’s hand, but he moved away. “Listen,” she said. “All the thoughts that you are having, I promise you I’ve had them. All the scenarios you are running in your head? I’ve run them. I can’t answer all your questions. If I could, I would have taken the people down that did this to you. You understand that, right?”
Lawson didn’t respond.
“I can’t tell you why they didn’t come after me, Lawson. I’ve thought about it a thousand times over the years. If I had to guess, they knew you were the lead agent. Maybe they thought without you, I wasn’t much of an agent myself. Clearly I proved them right, ’cause I haven’t made a damn bit
of progress since you went away. Now, as for why Director Billings might have tipped the De Lucas off that we were closing in? I can definitely answer that. I did at least try to get answers.”
“And?” asked Lawson.
“Remember Billings’s son, Joe?”
“The poker player?”
“Yep. But poker wasn’t all he bet on, and he racked up an insurmountable debt with Tony and Nero De Luca.”
Cassie paused for a minute, letting Lawson process.
It didn’t take Lawson long. “So Billings gave Nero the information he needed to know we were closing in, in exchange for letting Joe off the hook for his debt.”
“That’s what I’m thinking.”
That made perfect sense to Lawson. He knew Billings wasn’t the type of man to let money keep him from doing his job. But saving his son, what man could blame him for that? Lawson knew he would do anything if it came to saving Lexi’s life. Trying to have Lawson killed in a hotel room ten years later, however—Billings was going to have to answer for that.
“All right,” said Lawson, “but that didn’t mean you had to stop pursuing the case we were building against De Luca just because of what happened to me.”
“Lawson, you know better than that. I know you read the papers.”
Lawson had in fact read the papers, and he knew exactly what Cassie was referring to. After Lawson was sentenced to life in prison, the three confidential informants who were going to turn on the De Lucas and testify against them for Cassie and Lawson all ended up dead.
Cassie continued. “After Nero had our informants killed, our case was dead. I had nothing left to go on. And after learning from Billings that the FBI was scrutinizing their business so closely, Nero really tightened everything up. It was the perfect cover-up. Well, except for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“They should have killed you is what I mean. And I’m pretty sure that was exactly their plan on the boat that day. But since you weren’t there, they called an audible and decided that putting you in jail forever would be just as good. Hell, they already knew they had the chief of police and the brand new DA in their pocket. How could they lose?”
It hurt Lawson even further to know for sure that he was the reason that Lauren died that day. He had always suspected it, but hearing Cassie have the same thoughts only confirmed it for him.
“So that leads me to exactly what I did do to help while you were in prison.”
Lawson snapped out of his trance. “Which was what exactly?”
“I know you think it was the favor you did for the governor that got you that pardon, Lawson. But just how in the hell do you think he came to know that you were in there and could help him out?”
Lawson didn’t have an answer.
“I heard what you were doing in there. Doing favors for De Luca and others. And I knew exactly why you were doing it. It was smart. You were playing the long game. On the off chance you were ever going to get out of there, you wanted an ‘in’ wherever you could get one to find answers on the outside.”
“So what does that have to do with the governor?” Lawson asked.
“Well, I heard about him getting his mistress pregnant from someone I am friends with in his office. And I thought it was awfully fishy how his mistress’s husband went to prison on that unrelated drug charge. So . . . I managed a meeting with the governor and convinced him that maybe this guy in prison needed a little convincing not to tell everyone that the governor was the father of his wife’s baby.”
“And you helped get word to me to tune him up so he wouldn’t talk. Thus putting the governor in my debt.”
“Right. I knew you would find out that this guy was a real scumbag anyway. Dealing drugs to kids, running prostitutes. If he wasn’t, you would have never done the favor that got you out of prison. You would have never hurt him.”
“Wow, Cassie. Talk about working the angles.”
“Just using what I learned from you.”
Lawson stood up and took a peek out the window. The sun was blazing down on Cassie’s little backyard. Instead of grass, of course, her yard was rock and sand. Grass in the desert was too much upkeep for a single woman who worked all the time. He turned back to her.
“So where does that leave us now?”
Cassie stood. “It leaves us exactly where we were when I slipped you the letter. You have to get the hell out of town, and apparently”—she motioned toward the hallway with her hand—“I have to get this mess cleaned up.”
“I’m not leaving, Cassie. An FBI hit man tried to kill me last night.”
“What?” Cassie was shocked. “Kevin Watson already came for you? He must have been watching you for longer than I thought he might be. How are you still here?”
“Honestly? Because I wasn’t sure I could trust you. That’s what saved my life.”
“You thought I may have told him where you were, so you were ready. At least you not believing in me saved your life, you prick.”
“Whatever. Water under the bridge. Like I said, I’m not leaving town. A crime boss colluded with the chief of police and the district attorney to kill my wife and frame me for it. These people have to pay for what they’ve done.”
“Someone already has.”
Lawson knew Cassie was referring to Evelyn Delaney being found dead in a ditch.
“Yeah, about that . . .”
Cassie’s face turned white. “That was really you?”
“What? No. Well, not the Evelyn Delaney thing.”
“But the killing in your room at Caesar’s?”
“Hey, they came after me. And it was Evelyn Delaney who hired them.”
“What?” Cassie was flabbergasted. “How could you know that? . . . Never mind. So if you didn’t kill the DA, who did?”
Lawson’s face hardened, and his jaw clenched. “The same son of a bitch who’s been behind everything this entire time . . .”
“Nero De Luca.”
21
Lawson left Cassie’s house in her spare car, an old Honda Accord that she hadn’t driven in months. The two of them searched the men who broke into Cassie’s house but didn’t find anything that could link them to who sent them. At this point, however, there was little doubt in both of their minds that they were De Luca’s men. They certainly weren’t undercover police or FBI. Lawson figured De Luca sent them to see if he was hiding out at Cassie’s house. Lawson imagined that Nero had grown quite worried by that point. He was sure that was the reason for all the missed calls and texts from Johnny. They were desperately trying to figure out Lawson’s location.
Nero must have been wondering if his plan to use Lawson for his own gain before he killed him had backfired. Probably up all night trying to decide if Evelyn’s little hiring blew it for him. Nero was a powerful man, but the last thing he wanted was for Lawson to put everything together. He obviously had an idea of what Lawson was capable of, or he wouldn’t have asked him to help bring him back to power by taking down Sokolov.
Sokolov.
Twenty-four hours ago, Lawson thought Sokolov would have been the last person on earth he would want to see on the outside. Now, it seemed like a must. The old adage “an enemy of my enemy is a friend” had never rung more true than in that moment. Lawson was being hunted by everyone in Las Vegas. Sokolov included. But if anyone could appreciate Lawson’s situation, and possibly benefit from bringing down De Luca, it was Sokolov.
One of the many things written in Lawson’s notebook was the inner workings of Sokolov’s operation and where his people gathered. Whispers in prison from their men over the years gave Lawson more information about these crime bosses than he could have ever learned with the FBI. And now was the time to put these secrets to good use.
Lawson pulled up to the D Casino downtown. He had heard on a number of occasions that Sokolov worked out of a suite at the top of the hotel and that several of his degenerate employees were always drinking and hanging out at the Sports Book there.
By Vegas standards, the D’s interior wasn’t overly gaudy. They weren’t pulling people in with promises of Italian marble and Roman statues. Nor were they using gimmicks like pirate ships and shark tanks. Most people who stayed there wanted to be downtown—old Vegas—and the D was known for loose slots, and that would always bring in a steady clientele. The Fremont Street Experience just outside was a nice draw, and Lawson heard from many imprisoned Italians that Andiamo Steakhouse was “delicioso!” Lawson passed through all of that, following the signs to the Sports Book. Which wasn’t much of a sports book at all, so it was very easy for him to get the attention of Sokolov’s men in the small room.
“My name is Lawson Raines,” he announced. “And Serge Sokolov wants me dead.”
Again, the time for subtleties had passed.
Two men sitting in front of a small wall of televisions and one man at the betting counter turned immediately when Lawson announced himself. They all reached for their sidearms, but Lawson stopped them before they could pull.
“I come in peace,” he said, holding both hands up. “It seems your boss and I have a common enemy.”
The red-haired man at the betting counter stepped toward him. “What makes you think Sokolov cares who you are, or who your enemy is?”
“You already know he cares who I am. That’s why the three of you reached for your guns. And he cares who my enemy is because I’m going to kill the son of a bitch. Thus giving your boss the keys to Las Vegas.”
Five minutes later, Lawson was walking off the elevator on the top floor of the hotel, heading toward Serge Sokolov’s suite. This could possibly be the worst decision I’ve ever made, Lawson thought. Cassie spent five minutes trying to convince him of that very fact before he left her house. But if fortune favors the bold and Sokolov doesn’t kill him, he might buy himself enough time to think of a way to bring the entire ten years of pain directly down on Nero De Luca’s head.
Two of his escorts from the Sports Book opened the door to the suite and ushered Lawson inside. Directly in front of him was a row of windows with a sweeping view of the Las Vegas mountains in the distance. The walls were grey, the carpet was a red-speckled black, and a large grey sectional sofa sat in front of a long dining table. At the table a grey-haired, fake-tanned man in a black suit sat having brunch.
When the Man Comes Around: A Gripping Crime Thriller (Lawson Raines, Book 1) Page 9
