Vegas Sunrise

by Fern Michaels

  “Attagirl, Fanny. Kick ass and take names later.”

  “Did I do good, Ash?”

  “Damn good. Hole up at the casino. Do what you did when you barred Simon from the premises. Pay Jeffrey off and get him the hell out of there.”

  “Okay, Ash. Marcus is going to be just fine. Just fine. I wish I could tell you how happy that makes me. My world is right side up again. I owe you another one for that.”

  “Nah. Take care of yourself, Fanny.”

  At the casino, Fanny asked for the keys to the suite of rooms kept for what Ash had always called visiting royalty. Translated it meant high-rollers or, as Sunny put it, a luxury comp for someone who was prepared to drop a half million bucks in a high-stakes poker game.

  Fanny dropped the card key into her purse. She rummaged for a minute until she pulled out the crackly envelope she’d taken from her safety deposit box. Jeff Lassiter’s contract. The amount of the cashier’s check made her wince. She was cutting her losses. Big time. She sought out Neal and spent ten minutes huddling with him. “It’s not that I don’t want to confront Jeff, Neal. I’m afraid of what I might do if I find myself face-to-face with him. Take some Security people with you and escort him from the premises. Under no circumstances is he permitted in this casino or hotel ever again.”

  “My pleasure, Fanny. I bet Ash is smiling from ear to ear over this.”

  “You’re probably right, Neal. I’ll be in the high-roller suite until I can find a place to live.”

  “Do you want me to call you when he’s gone?”

  “No. I don’t want to know anything about that young man. Thanks.”

  “Let’s go get you some chicken, Daisy,” Fanny said, picking up the little dog. “Then we’re going upstairs, where I’m going to show you how happy I am. I am, you know. I feel like singing. I might even sing to you.” Fanny squeezed the little dog until she squealed. “I’m just so happy, Daisy.”

  “No muss no fuss, guys,” Neal Tortolow said to the beefy Security guards. “We take him down the private elevator to his car. I’ll drive the car out to the street and the two of you will escort him to it. If he ever gets within a foot of this place, you’re all on the unemployment line. Ring the bell.”

  Jeff Lassiter opened the door, an ugly look on his face. Neal slapped the contract and the certified check into his hand. He nodded to the Security guards as each of them took hold of Lassiter’s arms. “We’ll send your belongings to your mother’s house.”

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Take your goddamn hands off me. I’ll sue your fucking asses off.”

  “It’s a free country. As of this minute, you are trespassing. Once we escort you outside you can do whatever you want. Go to a lawyer, go to the police, it’s your choice. Come near this casino, and you’ll be carted off to jail. I filed a restraining order an hour ago,” Neal said.

  “I want my belongings, and I want them now!”

  “Tough shit, mister,” one of the guards said.

  “It’ll be tough shit if any of my money is missing,” Lassiter snarled.

  “You should have put your money in the bank the way normal people do,” Neal snarled in return. “Tell me how much there is, and I’ll go back and get it now.”

  “You don’t need to know how much there is. Just get the metal security box under the bathroom vanity. It has a combination lock, so it better not be tampered with.”

  “Eat shit, Lassiter,” Neal said as he spun around on his heel to head for the elevator. To the guards he said, “Hold him here till I get back.”

  Jeff Lassiter leaned against the front of his new car, his face full of rage. Obviously Fanny Thornton had put two and two together and come up with the number four. He was sorry now that he hadn’t blown up the cozy little house in the desert. He did like a good fire. From all he’d been told, Fanny Thornton Reed was a creature of habit and comfort. By all rights, if she was the one who had taken the pictures and his father’s wings, she would have secured them in the cozy little house in the desert. People like Fanny Thornton Reed couldn’t comprehend that people like him would actually break and enter her sacred domicile. If he lived to be a hundred, he would never understand how she could give up the Thornton name. He himself would kill to carry that treasured name. Well, hell’s bells, he could do just that. All he had to do was go to a lawyer’s office, show all his voluminous paperwork, and ask for a name change. He could prove paternity. His mother would back him up. All he had to do was threaten to cut the television wires and she would do whatever he wanted. And he wanted was to change his name. He started to laugh, an unholy sound that echoed around the underground garage.

  Neal stepped out of the elevator, the metal box in his hands, just as Lassiter’s laughter circled around him. He felt himself cringe. His eyes narrowed. He’d heard laughter like that once before. Simon Thornton had laughed like that the night Neal and the same Security guards dragged him from the penthouse after he’d beaten Ash. A cold chill ran along his arms. He shoved the metal box into Lassiter’s hands. To the guards he said, “Take him outside, and I’ll drive this pimpmobile out front. If he tries any funny stuff, deck him.”

  “You and what army?” Jeff sneered.

  “Keep it up, and you’ll be wearing these super-duper tire-tread marks all over that ugly face of yours. There are a million pairs of eyes on you, so I’d be careful if I were you. That advice is free. Get his stinking ass out of here,” Neal said as he turned the key in the ignition. A devilish grin on his face, he gunned the engine, exhaust billowing up and around the fancy sports car. He peeled rubber and raced down the length of the garage and up the ramp and out to the street, where he screeched to a halt. The moment he stepped from the car, Lassiter was shoved inside.

  Arms akimbo, the three men watched as Jeff settled the box on the passenger side of the car, fastened his seat belt, and fired up a cigarette. He took his time looking in the rearview mirror as well as the side view mirror before he turned on his signal lights and inched into traffic. The window down, he leaned out and raised his middle finger.

  “The same to you, asshole,” Neal muttered under his breath. “Okay, you guys, back to work.”

  Jeff drove aimlessly. Technically, as of this minute, he was homeless. What were his options? Return to his mother’s and the sickening smell of liniment and the sound of raucous game shows? Take a hotel room or rent a furnished apartment? Buy a house? Hang out at Celia’s fleabag apartment? He opted for the latter. First, though, he had to stop at the bank and stash his money in his safety deposit box. Then he would go to Celia’s apartment to wait for her. An hour with Celia would tell him if it was Fanny Thornton Reed or Celia who had his belongings.

  He had all the time in the world. And he was rich. After tonight he would be even richer.

  It was ten minutes past seven when Celia fitted her key into the lock of the dingy apartment. She flicked on the light switch next to the door, gasping when she saw Jeff Lassiter sitting in the living room’s only chair. “What’s wrong?”

  “It depends on your point of view. I’m only going to ask you this once, so I would advise you to tell me the truth. Did you or didn’t you take the keys and the pictures?”

  “No!” The single word exploded from Celia’s mouth like a gunshot.

  Jeff’s voice took on a singsong quality when he said, “I hope you aren’t lying. If you are, that means I ransacked Fanny Thornton Reed’s house for nothing. I really did a number on it. She won’t want to live there ever again. The keys and pictures weren’t there. That brings me back to you. By the way, Fanny Thornton Reed had my ass booted out of the casino. I’m homeless and jobless. What do you think I should do, Celia?”

  “Why are you asking me? What did you do to Fanny’s house? Did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe, someone from the casino went into your apartment when you were sleeping? Why would Fanny Thornton want your keys? Furthermore, she didn’t know about the pictures. You saw me leave. I had nothing in my hands. My
carry bag was by the front door where I dropped it. I took the money out and handed it to you. I don’t have a key to the penthouse, and you know it. There was no way for me to get back in, so don’t go getting any funny ideas. Now that you’re homeless and jobless, let’s call this deal off. I’ll be going on the road, so there is no point in discussing this any further. You have your deal about ready to fly, don’t you? Let’s part without hard feelings.”

  “No, my deal isn’t ready to fly. We’re going to keep going with our plan. I’ve been barred from the casino, so that means you work it tonight. They can’t throw you out. You play all night and win as much as you can. I’ll meet you when the sun comes up at Fanny Thornton Reed’s house. That’s the last place anyone will think to look for either of us. Make sure no one is following you. I’ve taken the liberty of writing down the directions. Don’t screw this up, Celia.”

  “Or what?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  For the first time since meeting Jeffrey Lassiter, Celia felt total fear. She tried to brazen it out. “And while I’m doing that, what are you going to be doing? If you say Fanny isn’t going to return to her house, that means she’s probably staying at Babylon. They’ll call her if I start winning. Then what do I do?”

  “Do I have to do all your thinking? You continue to play. All they can do is change the dealer, shut down the table for an hour or so. If things get out of hand, make an announcement. Tell everyone who you are and see the reaction you get. Crowds love that kind of crap. You’re an ingenious person much like myself. Fight fire with fire. Just make sure you take the house for everything you can. Don’t screw up.”

  “In the meantime those pictures are out there somewhere.” Suddenly Celia felt like crying.

  “That’s something we both need to remember. I stopped by a lawyer’s office today. I’m changing my name to Thornton. I turned over all the paperwork. Proving paternity was no problem. How do you like the name Jeffrey Thornton?”

  “It has a definite ring to it,” Celia said carefully.

  “I think so. My uncle Simon was a nutcase, did you know that? My old man shot him dead. Then he bought the farm. They died within minutes of each other. Mrs. Fanny Thornton Thornton Reed gave my father a sendoff, and my uncle was simply planted. It’s a crazy family.”

  “Then why do you want to belong to it?”

  “Because it’s my right. I have the same blood. It’s my goddamn right. Why did you marry Birch Thornton?”

  “For his money. Greed, pure and simple. It isn’t going to work. It’s over. Can’t you see that? They’re onto you. If changing your name makes you happy, then you should change it, but the Thorntons will never accept you any more than they’ll accept me. Sooner or later you’ll end up in an alley somewhere with your throat slit from ear to ear. Things like that happen in this town. You just never hear about them. Jeffrey Lassiter Thornton will become a statistic. Is that what you want? This town will never accept you.”

  “And you have all the answers?”

  “No. I have a few. I know I screwed up. My greed got in the way. You’ll probably laugh your head off when I tell you this, but I’m going to tell you anyway. I’m pregnant. That’s why I want out of this mess. I’m going to have to make it on my own. If Ruby keeps me on, and with the money I’ve stashed from our little venture, I’ll be okay.”

  “A kid! How’d that happen?”

  Celia shot Jeff a disgusted look. “It happened, okay. Now I have to deal with it. No more late nights, no more drinking and smoking. No more gambling in smoky rooms all night long.”

  “How do I know you aren’t lying?”

  Celia reached into her bag and withdrew a lab report. “Read it.”

  “Okay, you aren’t lying. You’re off the hook. Tonight’s your last night, so make it count. My mother told me how hard it was for her to be pregnant with no one to look out for her. She needed someone. A person, a body. She said she could have gotten by with less money from my father if he’d just been there for her. It wasn’t her choice. It was his. A kid needs two parents when possible. Nobody gives a damn about the kids. All they do is think about themselves. Don’t be so quick to give up the Thornton cushion.”

  Celia stared at Jeff. She thought she saw tears in his eyes.

  “You’re missing the point, Jeff. I don’t love Birch.”

  “What the hell does love have to do with anything?”

  “It has everything to do with it. You’re a prime example. I don’t want to get into this. I’ll take the low road and hope for the best.”

  “I can’t dig you as a mother. You could give the kid out for adoption to people who will love it. The kid’s going to need a live-in set of parents. A kid needs a hands-on father and a mother who bakes cookies and goes on Scout trips.”

  “Do you have any idea how strange that sounds coming from you? The kid will be my ace in the hole down the road. That’s my thinking now. It might change as time goes on. I might turn out to be the world’s best mother. The flip side of that is I might turn out to be the world’s worst mother. Only time will tell. To go back to your suggestion, I could never give a child away. I might be a lot of things, but I would never abandon my own flesh and blood. I’m out of here now. Stay if you want.” She picked up the directions to Fanny’s house. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Celia, wait. Put yourself in Fanny’s place. If you took the pictures and the keys, where would you hide them? I went through her car and purse within an hour. She didn’t stop anywhere except the medical center.”

  “I’d put the keys down my bra and the pictures in my pocket. Then I’d hide both things in a safety deposit box. If that’s what she did, you’ll never get them. Cut your losses and go on from there.”

  “This place is a dump.”

  Celia looked around. “It’s worse than a dump. For now it works.”

  “I expect big bucks, Celia.”

  “There is something I want you to remember, Jeff. I haven’t forgotten the other night. Nor will I forget it anytime in the near future. Paybacks are a bitch. The second thing you need to remember is I’m going up against Fanny Thornton.”

  Jeff snorted. “Just mention your ace in the hole. C’mon, all we had was a little fun. Sex is sex. It didn’t mean a thing.” His face turned ugly and hateful. “Get over it.”

  Celia slammed the door on her way out. She was almost to the street when she remembered that she hadn’t checked her answering machine. When she got to the casino she would call Jeff to check it and to tell him not to answer the phone in case Birch called. Her stomach started to churn. She should never have allowed Jeff to stay in her apartment. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  Her stomach in a knot, Celia climbed behind the wheel of her car. How was she going to deal with her mother-in-law if something went awry this evening? If Fanny had the pictures, her attitude would be less than understanding if Celia were winning big at the tables. Maybe she should just flash the lab report under Fanny’s nose, let her figure out which one of her sons was the father of her unborn child. There was no way Fanny would let homemaker Iris know about her husband’s presumed infidelity. No way at all. There was no way Fanny would allow Birch to see the pictures either. So, for the time being, the father of this child is up for grabs where Fanny Reed is concerned, Celia thought smugly.

  She sighed deeply, God she was tired. She’d been tired from the moment she stepped foot on American soil.

  She stopped for a red light. All I want right now is a nice place to live with some decent money in the bank, so I don’t have to worry about bill collectors. A job that isn’t a killer and a strength zapper would fit right into my wish list. Something part-time would be nice.

  Once all the hoopla was over with The Chicken Palaces, part-time might work. At least for a while. She closed her eyes for a moment but was jolted awake when a horn blared behind her. If she did have a wish list, it would be for a hot bowl of soup, a long, leisurely bath, and twelve hours’ sleep. Ins
tead, she was headed for a gambling casino where she would gamble the night away in a skintight dress, spike-heeled shoes, and enough makeup on her face for heads to turn. She’d sip free drinks and smoke free cigarettes until her throat became scratchy and her eyes started to water.

  “I don’t want to do this anymore. Die already, Jeffrey Lassiter Thornton or whatever your name is today,” Celia muttered as she swerved into the underground garage, where she parked her car in her husband’s parking slot.

  “Seventy-nine bottles of beer . . .”

  “Harry, stop. Did you hear something?”

  “Just you. You can’t sing worth a darn, Sunny.”

  “I know. Just listen for a minute. I thought I heard a horn.”

  “I guess a horn is better than hearing a dead person talk to you. I’m sorry, Sunny, but I can’t buy into that. Wait, I think I did hear something. You’re right. It does sound like a horn. Maybe someone out there is looking for us on a snowmobile. I’ll crawl out and give ours a blast. Keep singing, Sunny.”

  “What number are we on? It’s Birch. I know it’s Birch. I can feel it.”

  “I don’t care who it is as long as they can get us back to the lodge. I think we’re on eighty-five.”

  “God! Is that all we did?”

  “Time has no meaning, Sunny. I was just guessing. Okay, I’m going to give the horn a blast. I’ll wait ten seconds and do it again.”

  “That’s good. Ninety-three bottles of beer . . .”

  “Seventy-four, Sunny. You need to get it right in case your father really is out there somewhere listening.”

  “Oh, boy, oh, boy. I heard that real clear. Did you hear that, Harry?”

  “Yeah.” Harry blasted his horn for ten long seconds and received an even closer blast in return.

  “I told you Birch would find us. It’s Birch. We’re saved, Harry. We aren’t going to die out here alone after all. Do the horn again, Harry, and keep doing it. Turn on the light too.”