Thanks to some reckless driving, he was only a few minutes late. Levi was waiting for him in the parking lot, but he didn’t comment on Dominic’s tardiness, just kissed him hello before starting the drive south to McCarran International Airport.
Though the Abramses’ flight was on schedule, it would take time for them to deplane and retrieve their luggage, so Levi parked in the cell phone lot to wait. The weather was nice enough to turn the car off and leave the windows open—but then Levi just sat there with his hands still on the wheel, staring blankly out the windshield.
“Levi,” Dominic said.
“Mmm?”
He reached out to free Levi’s closest hand from the wheel, tugging until Levi turned to face him. “Baby, why are you so nervous?”
As always, Levi visibly melted at the endearment, which was somehow both the hottest and sweetest thing in the world. “I don’t know,” he said. “I had a weird day, and now . . .”
“Are you worried your parents won’t like me?”
“Of course they’re going to like you,” Levi said with a roll of his eyes. “You’re disgustingly likable. But liking someone isn’t the same as wanting them to date your son.”
Dominic hesitated, then said, “Do you think the gambling is going to be a deal breaker?”
“No,” Levi said, totally focused on Dominic now. He laced their fingers together and squeezed. “My parents aren’t like that, Dominic. I wouldn’t have asked your permission to tell them if I thought they were going to judge you. Besides, you’re in recovery, which takes a lot of strength and conviction. They admire that.”
Dominic managed a feeble smile. Levi’s last boyfriend had been a suave, well-educated billionaire successfully managing the North American division of his family’s globe-spanning hotel empire. That was a tough act to follow for a debt-ridden college dropout with a gambling problem.
Christ, no, that was stupid. Levi might talk about his parents with exasperation, but there was always a strong undercurrent of love. If they were half the parents he said they were, his happiness would be the most important thing to them. And Dominic knew for a fact that he made Levi happier than Stanton ever had.
“It’s just that I’m my parents’ youngest and I was kind of a wimpy kid,” Levi went on. “They’ve never really changed their perspective of me, so they’re extra-protective. That’s all.” He released Dominic’s hand to cup his jaw and added, “If there’s anyone in the world who can charm them out of that, it’s you.”
This time, Dominic’s smile was more genuine. He kissed Levi’s palm.
Eyes darkening, Levi dragged his hand down Dominic’s throat to his chest. “What do you say we kill time by hard-core making out right here until they call?”
“What if someone complains to the cops?” Dominic said, though he was already reaching for the handle to drop the seat back.
“I’ve got a badge for that,” said Levi, unbuckling his seat belt and swinging astride Dominic’s lap with athletic grace.
There was no mystery as to where Levi had gotten his looks—he was the spitting image of his mother, a slim woman with the same cut-glass cheekbones and an explosion of riotous black curls. She dropped her bags on the Arrivals curb, threw her arms wide, and exclaimed, “My baby! My only son.”
“Hi, Mom,” Levi said, smiling as he embraced her. She kissed his cheek several times in quick succession, and then he turned to hug his father as well.
Levi’s father was an inch shorter than his wife, heavyset and balding on top, though he had an impressively thick salt-and-pepper beard. His enthusiastic greeting knocked his glasses askew, and he shoved them into place after he let Levi go.
“Guys, this is Dominic,” Levi said, gesturing to where Dominic hovered beside the car. “Dominic, these are my parents, Nancy and Saul Abrams.”
“Good God,” Nancy said, staring at Dominic. Her New Jersey accent was much more pronounced than Levi’s. “Levi, you never told us your young man was such a looker!”
“When have I ever said anything remotely like that?”
Nancy made a tsking noise and then smiled at Dominic. “Well come here, gorgeous, let me give you a kiss.” She took both his hands, looked up at him, and said, “Oy, someone get me a stepladder.”
Dominic laughed and leaned down so she could kiss his cheek. “It’s really nice to meet you both,” he said as he turned to shake Saul’s hand.
“You too,” said Saul. “We’ve heard great things.”
“Likewise. Here, let me get your bags.”
“Careful,” Nancy started, “they’re a little . . .” She trailed off as Dominic effortlessly scooped up all four bags at once. “Heavy,” she said, exchanging a glance with Saul. “Or maybe not.”
While Dominic stowed the bags in the trunk, Levi opened the front passenger door for his mother. “I made reservations for dinner, but I thought we’d stop by your hotel first so you don’t have to schlep your stuff all over the city.”
Schlep, Dominic mouthed to himself, testing out the unfamiliar word.
Although it was Levi’s car, Dominic took the wheel because he couldn’t comfortably fit in the back seat. Nancy and Saul were as talkative as Levi was taciturn, keeping up a steady stream of chatter and friendly, comfortable bickering all the way to the hotel and then picking up right where they’d left off on the drive to the restaurant.
Levi had chosen Firefly, a tapas place Downtown. When the server was taking their drink orders, he asked for a Boulevardier and received a blank look in return—not an uncommon reaction.
“It’s bourbon, Campari, and sweet vermouth, straight up with an orange twist,” Dominic said. “I’ll have a Ketel One and soda, please.”
“I thought your drink was an Old Fashioned,” Saul said to Levi after the server left.
“Not anymore,” Levi said with a small, private smile for Dominic.
Dominic smiled back and ghosted a hand across his shoulders.
“So, Dominic,” said Nancy, leveling him with an abruptly intense gaze. “Levi tells us you come from a large family.”
“Yes, I’m the middle of five children, and I have a bunch of nieces and nephews. Another one about to be born any day now, actually.”
“Mazel tov,” Saul said.
Still studying him intently, Nancy asked, “And how close are you to your mother?”
Levi rubbed his eyes. Dominic squeezed his knee under the table.
“Very close,” he said. “My father passed away about six years ago—”
This was met with effusive expressions of sympathy and dismay from both Nancy and Saul.
“Thanks. He had pancreatic cancer and he was on hospice care for a while, so we knew it was coming. But I’ve been even closer with my mom since then. My paternal grandmother too—she lived with my family for most of my childhood, and she still lives with my mom in the house where I grew up. Our whole family gets together there every Sunday for lunch.”
“I’m happy to hear family is so important to you,” Nancy said, sitting back with a satisfied air. “I’ve always liked that about Italians.”
“Oh my God, Mom.” Levi’s eyes had gone wide. “You can’t say stuff like that.”
“It was a compliment!”
“It doesn’t matter!”
“It’s fine,” said Dominic. “I’m not offended. Family is important to me.”
They were interrupted by the timely arrival of their server, who set down their drinks and took their orders for a half-dozen tapas plates to share. Once he was gone, Nancy said, “What about religion?”
Levi choked on his cocktail mid-sip, banged his glass down hard, and shook his head. “No. Nope.”
Even Saul seemed taken aback. “For God’s sake, Nancy.”
“I’m just curious,” she said. “Would you two relax?”
Dominic didn’t mind; he knew she only had Levi’s best interests at heart, and that was something they had in common. “I was raised Catholic. My mom and grandmother are very dev
out, but I don’t practice. To be honest, I don’t have any firm beliefs about religion or spirituality at all.”
“How would you like to join us for Shabbat tomorrow?” Saul asked.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what that is.”
“It’s a family dinner and home ritual to celebrate the beginning of the Sabbath.”
Blinking, Dominic turned to Levi and said, “I’ve never seen you do that.”
Levi was quietly religious—he’d been raised Reform, which as Dominic understood it meant he had the freedom to choose which observations and practices were most meaningful to him. He abstained from pork and shellfish, attended temple services occasionally, and had fasted for Yom Kippur earlier this month, but he definitely didn’t observe the Jewish Sabbath.
Dominic belatedly hoped he hadn’t gotten Levi in trouble, but his parents didn’t look surprised, and Levi only shrugged.
“It’s not that realistic for me as a cop,” he said. “Besides, it would just be me unless I wanted to go to temple every Friday, which I don’t. We don’t practice any of the Sabbath restrictions we’re supposed to anyway.”
“Pssh, ‘supposed to.’” Nancy waved a dismissive hand. “You talk to fifty different Jews, you’ll hear fifty different opinions on how to observe the Sabbath, and none of them are wrong. Regardless, it’s nice to have that time at home with your family connecting to your roots. We’d love to have you, Dominic.”
“I’d be honored,” he said.
The conversation gradually turned to the Abramses’ family and friends in New Jersey, giving Dominic a bit of a break. By the time they circled back around to him again, discussing his service with the Army Rangers, they were midway through the meal and gorging themselves on tapas.
“I have to admit, it’s a relief to see Levi with a man like yourself,” Saul said to Dominic as he wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Considering how dangerous his job is and all.”
“I have been practicing Krav Maga for over a decade,” Levi said in clear indignation. “I’m one of the highest-ranked practitioners in the United States.”
“Levi is perfectly capable of protecting himself,” Dominic was quick to add. “And me, actually. When we were first getting to know each other, he brought down three guys by himself while I was injured.”
“But weren’t you injured because you’d jumped in front of an attack to protect him?”
Dominic hadn’t realized the Abramses knew about that. “Uh . . . well, yeah.”
Saul nodded happily. “Like I said—it’s a relief.”
“Oh, we know Levi has some impressive skills these days.” Nancy patted Levi’s arm while he bristled all over like an offended cat. “But you have to understand that wasn’t always the case. He used to be just the cutest, scrawniest little thing you ever saw—all elbows and knees with a big poof of curls.” Her face brightening, she leaned over to dig in her purse. “I have some pictures in my wallet if you’d like to see them.”
“Please,” Dominic said, delighted beyond words.
“You’re all dead to me,” said Levi—but he scooted his chair a little closer to Dominic’s, his gray eyes warm and soft, and his shoulders finally relaxed.
Levi watched his quarry limp quietly out the back door of a house in Winchester, then make his slow, painful way to the gate in the backyard fence, glancing over his shoulder several times as he went. The man’s face was a mess of violent bruises, and the hunched way he held himself was a clear sign his ribs were injured.
“Kasper Dubicki,” Levi said as he stepped away from the side of the house next door.
The man startled, jerked sideways against the fence, and cried out in pain, grabbing his side.
Flashing his badge, Levi said, “You wouldn’t be having your friend in there distract my partner at the front door while you sneak out the back, would you?”
Dubicki, an average-looking white guy under all the swelling and abrasions, didn’t answer. His eyes darted back and forth as if to judge the distance to the roads on either side of the houses they stood between.
“You couldn’t outrun me on your best day,” Levi said coldly. “Which this certainly is not. Seems like you’ve got a few cracked ribs there.”
“Look, man,” Dubicki said in a light Polish accent, “I don’t know why you’re here—”
“Sure you do. Two nights ago, you shot Paul Yu to death. That’s why I have this warrant for your arrest.”
Dubicki flinched. “No way. I’d never do that.”
“Come on. Multiple sources told us there were vicious rumors swirling around that Yu was sleeping with your wife. Your DNA is in the LVMPD’s system from a prior conviction, and it was all over his hands and under his nails. Your car was caught on camera speeding away from the parking garage around the same time residents were calling 911 to report gunfire.” Levi paused, observing Dubicki’s flaring nostrils and heaving chest. “Also, you do realize that you threw the gun out your car window while you were running a red light? I mean, seriously, what were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t!” Dubicki raised his hands with a pleading expression. “It didn’t go down the way you think, I swear. I’m not like that—I’m not a killer—”
“Anyone can become a killer if the conditions are right,” said Levi. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Paul Yu. Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
Dubicki groaned and cast one last desperate glance to his potential escape routes. He couldn’t even stand up straight, though, much less flee on foot, so his shoulders sagged and he did as Levi ordered.
“You don’t understand,” he said as Levi handcuffed him. “You can’t take me in; you don’t know what’s really going on.”
“Are you worried the Parks will find you there?” Levi judged the small shudder that ran through Dubicki’s body, then upped the ante. “Or is it your own people you’re worried about? The Collective isn’t known for being merciful.”
Dubicki wasn’t exactly a brain trust, but that wasn’t rare for people who committed spontaneous, passionate murders in the heat of the moment. They were the easiest killers to catch—there was no premeditation, their motives were obvious, and they often panicked afterward and left a trail of evidence a mile wide like Dubicki had. Between the friends who had told Martine about the rumored affair, the DNA and photographic proof of Dubicki’s involvement, and the informant who’d snitched, figuring out who had killed Yu and tracking him down had been no challenge at all.
What made the case more interesting than the standard cuckolded-husband-with-a-gun was the affiliation of the two men. As Martine had believed, Paul Yu was an associate of the Park crime family, suspected but never charged with participation in several insurance and credit card fraud schemes.
Dubicki, on the other hand, belonged to the Slavic Collective, a multiethnic criminal organization that operated throughout the United States and had strong ties to Eastern Europe. They weren’t people to fuck with.
In Las Vegas, the Park family and the local branch of the Collective were allies. Dubicki was on both organizations’ shit lists now, all because he’d been stupid enough to bring a gun into a jealous confrontation.
“You have the right to remain silent,” Levi said, guiding the poor dumb bastard toward his waiting car. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law . . .”
“Mr. and Mrs. Miller, it’s nice to meet you,” Dominic said to his computer screen. “I’m Dominic Russo—I’ll be taking over the investigation into your daughter’s whereabouts.”
The couple on the other end of the Skype connection were in their late forties, attractive and well put-together, though stress was evident in their posture and the lines around their eyes and mouths. What he could see of the room behind them suggested a home office decorated with good taste and understated wealth.
“Thank you for taking the case,” Mr. Miller said.
“I just can’t believe that Jessica would willingly go to Las Vegas,
of all the Godless places.” Mrs. Miller bit her lip, then added, “Ah, no offense, Mr. Russo.”
“None taken.”
“Is there any news?”
“Not yet. I wanted to speak with you because my approach to cases like this is a little different from Mr. Hopkins’s. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind talking about Jessica and what she’s like as a person—her friends, her interests, her hobbies. Does she have any pets, is there anything she’s particularly passionate about, things like that.”
Rare were the parents who were unwilling to gush about a beloved child, especially when they hadn’t heard from said child in months. Both Millers latched on to his questions enthusiastically, their answers pouring forth with such gusto that he guessed they’d been storing this all up for a long time.
“Jessica was such a sweet girl,” Mrs. Miller said after a while, her eyes misting.
“Is,” her husband said sharply.
“Is, yes, of course. Straight-A student, always so popular at school, awards for her community service. Then that . . . that boy came along and turned her upside down.”
“When did you first notice a change in Jessica’s behavior?” Dominic asked.
“Back in January, I guess,” Mr. Miller said. “It was so gradual, though, and of course she was out at college in Santa Barbara while we were here in Bakersfield.” His voice cracked. “At first she seemed more withdrawn, short-tempered in a way that was unusual for her. Then she drifted away from her friends, stopped participating in activities she’d loved, until eventually she dropped out of school and just . . . left.”
The Millers joined hands and shared a look of profound sorrow. “‘Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding,’” she murmured, worrying a small silver cross that hung from her neck. Thanks to years of CCD, Dominic recognized the quote from Proverbs.
Frowning, he considered her necklace more closely, then studied the wall behind the Millers. An elegant engraved plaque hung there: I can do all this through Him who gives me strength. —Philippians 4:13.
Cash Plays Page 4
