“He’s lying!” Renee screams. “The eBay account is his.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll get this all straightened out.” Detective Kincaid opens the dressing room door, and four police officers enter.
“You cannot arrest me,” Renee yells. She tries to push the police officers away.
“Ma’am, we can add resisting arrest if you’d like,” one of the officers says.
“But I didn’t do anything,” Renee begs.
She’s in for a real surprise. I know Travis had the vents brushed for fingerprints, and hers were all over them—only hers. The video makes it clear she was heavily involved in the theft, but tying Frankie in may have just gotten easier if the eBay account really is in his name.
Frankie and Renee are screaming at each other as they’re led out the back. I stand there, staring. It’s like a train wreck—you can’t help but watch.
I hear rustling behind me and turn just in time to see Queen Diva go into her dressing room and close the door behind her.
I lean over to Travis. “I’m going to see how she’s doing.”
“Got it, boss.” He mock salutes and begins to walk away. “I’ve got the VIPs in the private poker tournament, plus all the other typical Saturday-night craziness. Caden and Kian will remain with you.”
“Thanks.”
The guys take a post on each side of Queen Diva’s dressing room door. I knock softly. There’s no answer. I knock again, much louder.
“Dana?” I call her by her legal name. “It’s Jonathan. May I come in?”
I can hardly hear her yes.
I peek inside without entering. Queen Diva’s dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Her wig is on a mannequin head, but she still wears a wig cap, and her feet are bare. I watch her wipe streaks of makeup off her face.
She sees me in the mirror, and I open my arms. She turns and almost runs to me. She’s crying.
I rub her back. “I’m so sorry,” I keep repeating.
When she can’t shed another tear, she breaks our hug. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. They took them out the back. There was no press, so you’re good for a day or so.”
“I really appreciate that.” Tears sit heavily in her eyes but don’t fall.
“Do you want to take a few days? Maybe a week or two to deal with your kids and manage this?”
She places her hand on my chest. “You’re too good to be in this business.”
“I treat people like I want to be treated. Plus, if you need to take the time, I’d rather you do it than be here doing a half-assed job because your mind is on your kids and their welfare.”
“I’m a professional. We go on with the show—no matter what.” Her voice softens. “I’m sure the media will have this plastered all over for the next few months. They’re going to be hard, but I need to work. Right now I’m broke. I learned today that Frankie has drained our accounts.”
“Oh, Dana. I’m so sorry.”
She gives me a sad smile. “He’s a gambler. What can I say? I guess you’re stuck with me.”
I reach for her hand and squeeze it. “I can’t imagine anyone I’d rather be stuck with.”
She takes a deep breath and then Dana is gone. The Queen has returned. “Tell me about your friend staying in your apartment. Is she gone? I haven’t seen her. When are you bringing her down to pass my inspection?”
“I will when the time is right. She’s dealing with some family things.”
“Hopefully they’re not as bad as mine.”
I can’t tell her it’s worse without outing Maggie, so I just squeeze her hand again and glance at my watch. “I better run.” I look at my watch, and it’s after two. “I still have ten tech billionaires playing poker in the Waterfront Room.”
“I thought I heard they were here in the hotel.”
“It’s the most surreal game. Neither Gillian nor I have ever seen anything like it. Go big or go home means something very different to these guys.”
“I’ll bet. Let me know if you want me to stop by before my show tomorrow night,” she says.
“Let me check with Gillian,” I tell her on the way out. “But that sounds great. And Queen, we’re going to get through this.”
She nods, her brave face firmly in place. She has been a gift to the Shangri-la since she agreed to make Las Vegas her home.
As I head back to the poker game, I call Maggie. It’s late, and I don’t want to wake her, but I’m secretly disappointed when I get voice mail. Hopefully, she’s getting the rest she desperately needs. “I’m thinking about you,” I tell the machine. “I love you. Let’s do something special tomorrow, just the two of us.”
I walk in and the tables are getting smaller—one is down to four players and the other’s at three. Mason’s standing to the side watching.
“You’re out?” I ask.
He nods. “I had three Jacks and was feeling good, but Walker had a straight.”
“No!” I say.
He shrugs. “It happens. I think Viviana is almost done. She’s down to two thousand dollars, and Marcus is on a roll.”
We stand and watch as she wins two small pots. She’s at three hundred thousand. Marcus pushes her to go all in, and she smiles. The pot is pretty rich, and he’s sure he has her.
He flips his cards with a pair of eights. Her grin erupts, and she throws out two Kings. The table explodes. Marcus is on the ropes, and Viviana is back up over a million dollars.
“I stand corrected.” Mason smirks. “I’m going to go find my girlfriend. Enjoy your night.” He shakes my hand.
“Are you going to come by tomorrow to watch?” I ask.
“Probably, tomorrow is when things get really interesting.”
“See you then. Have Caroline come with you, and she can meet with Gillian. We would love to have your wedding here,” I tease.
He grins. “I think Caroline’s booked something in Italy, but I do believe she’s looking for a place for her company-wide meeting.”
“We’ll take whatever she wants to give us. See you tomorrow.”
Viviana finishes off Marcus with the next hand, and the game finally draws down to five players. It’s after five in the morning, and everyone is exhausted.
“I’m impressed,” I tell Viviana.
She leans in close. “He has a tell when he bluffs.”
“Really? Do tell!”
“I almost lost all my money figuring it out.” She leans in close. “He taps his toes, which makes the table vibrate a tiny bit. Mason’s breathing increases slightly, and Jackson touches his ring. I’m going to take it all tomorrow.”
I laugh. She’s incredibly perceptive. “I can’t wait to see it.”
The room quickly empties, and soon Gillian and I are the only two left.
“I love that everyone thought Viviana was out and all of a sudden she came back with a vengeance,” Gillian says.
I laugh. “She figured out Marcus’s tell.”
“That’s awesome.” She leans against a table. “I need to get out of these shoes. I’ll be back here at about three tomorrow. Play starts at seven. Don’t be late.”
“I promise.” I salute her, and Caden and Kian walk me back upstairs.
I’m going to sleep and hopefully have morning sex with my woman and go back to sleep. I let myself into my apartment. Everything is quiet. I’m glad Maggie isn’t still pacing by the window, worrying about the press conference and what it could mean.
I kick my shoes off next to the door. Trying to be as quiet as possible, I half undress in the living room and head into the bathroom in my boxers. I don’t want to wake her.
Once I turn the light on, I glance back at the bed. She’s not there. I walk back out to the living room, but she’s not there either.
“Maggie?” I yell. But there’s nothing. No sound. Crickets.
I look around wildly, and finally see the note on the kitchen counter.
Jonnie,
I waited my whole life for you. You a
re my everything. I can’t put you in danger. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you. I need to get this fixed. I hope you can understand. I love you more than I can say. I’ll try to get this figured out soon.
Maggie
Immediately I pick up the phone and call the NOC. “Yes, Mr. Best.”
“Who is this?” I ask.
“Lucas, sir.”
Good. I know Lucas. “My houseguest left unexpectedly,” I tell him. “Can you tell me when my door was last accessed?”
I hear the computer keys clicking away. It takes a few moments, and the knots in my stomach are getting bigger all the time.
“It appears the door was opened at nine thirty-six—that’s excluding the entrance eight minutes ago.”
I sit back hard. She left just after I left last night. That was almost nine hours ago.
“Thank you,” I murmur into the phone and hang up.
I call the burner phone, and it rings here in the apartment.
She’s alone, with no support, and it’s dark.
I do the only thing I can think of. I dial the phone again.
“Hello?” a groggy voice says.
“Jim, she’s gone. She left me a note and snuck out.”
Chapter 29
Maggie
After leaving the apartment, I move down the back stairs. When no one stops me, I know I’m clear for a few hours. Jonnie is tied up and won’t know I’m missing until at least midnight, or hopefully much later. The more time I have, the more I can get accomplished.
There are many used car lots close to the Strip, so I start walking. I’m wearing a hoodie and jeans and carrying a duffel bag, and after walking past three lots, I spot a gray Honda Accord at the fourth. As soon as I step on the property, a salesman approaches. The price listed on the car is eight thousand dollars. I brought ten thousand dollars with me that I’d been hiding from my mother at home. I don’t know why, but I thought I might need it some day. I’m glad I have it, but I don’t want to spend it all on my car.
“Nice-looking car,” he says when he sees what I’m interested in. “It just arrived on the lot a few hours ago.” He’s pretty slimy and gives used car salesmen a bad name, but I need this car, so I swallow my pride and bite my tongue.
“What’s the history on it?” I ask.
He opens the driver’s side door. “Why don’t you have a seat in the car?” He reaches into the glove box on the passenger side. “Here’s the AutoFax. It’s never been in any accidents, though the mileage is a little high for a five-year-old car. How does it feel?”
It’ll get me where I need to go. “I have sixty-five hundred cash to take it now.”
He looks at me, beginning his process. “Well, I don’t know. This car just landed on the lot, and I’m going to take a loss.”
I look at him. “On the three neighboring lots, there are a combined six Honda Accords roughly the same age and probably with similar miles. This car is worth sixty-five hundred in perfect shape, but this one has a few dents and the tires need replacing. You can take my offer, or I’ll go to one of the others and drive off their lot. Tell me what you want to do.”
He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “You got me.” He shoots his hand out and shakes mine a little too aggressively. His sweaty palms give me the creeps. “You’ve got a deal.”
We walk into the trailer, which has a television running, and I take out sixty-five hundred-dollar bills and count them.
“Looks like someone won today.”
“That’s right, and rather than wait to fly home, I’m going to drive back to San Diego.”
He hands me the keys, and I head away from Las Vegas and San Diego.
There’s enough gas in the tank to make it about an hour outside North Las Vegas, where I stop and pick up a burner phone, snacks, and two large black coffees. That should keep me awake tonight as I drive through the dark desert.
I drive and drive, and hours later the sun crests the horizon outside Moab, Utah. It fills the sky with gold and pink and reminds me that this is a beautiful part of the world.
When I enter Colorado, the orange foothills and Book Cliffs begin to rise out of the desert. It’s almost as if they were dropped in the middle of nowhere.
Not long after that, exhaustion creeps up on me, and I’m concerned I might make a mistake. I can’t go any farther. I need to stop before I do something stupid, so I pull into a roadside hotel in Grand Junction, Colorado. It’s clean, and once I’ve checked in, I put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door.
I lie down on the bed and listen to the constant hum of the traffic from the nearby interstate. Most people are getting up about now, and the other guests are walking and talking loudly as they make their way down the hall, with kids running and yelling. Though I have been awake for way too long, it is difficult to relax.
I turn the TV on to drown out the noise and finally slow my mind enough to fall asleep. But I wake when I hear a voice I recognize on the TV: Patrick Moreau’s.
I sit up, forgetting where I am for a minute. Clearing the haze from my head, I concentrate on what he’s saying. He’s once again in the Reinhardt Corporation press room. Standing behind him are Herbert and Alex Walker, and my blood boils. Traitor!
“Ms. Reinhardt is suspected of embezzling over five million dollars from the Reinhardt Foundation, and her whereabouts are unknown. She’s considered armed and dangerous, as she has a collection of firearms...”
What? I’ve never held a gun in my life, much less owned a firearm. What. The. Hell?
“If you see her, do not approach, and call the number printed on the bottom of your screen. There is a hundred-thousand-dollar reward for any information that leads to her arrest.”
Holy fuck!
I pick up the phone and debate outing myself. I remember Jim suggested keeping all calls shorter than two minutes. I dial and start the timer.
“Maggie? Where are you?” Marci asks as soon as she answers the phone.
“I’m fine. I’ve not been kidnapped, and my love of firearms has been grossly exaggerated.”
“Where are you?” she presses.
“I’m off the grid, but I promise I’m okay. I’ll keep in touch, but I can’t put Jonnie in any danger.”
“Why would he be in danger?”
“Jim said the Kryetar activity picked up at the hotel. They’re there looking for me.”
“Jonnie is going crazy with worry.”
This makes my heart hurt, and I close my eyes. Part of me wants to turn around and go back to him, but I know I have to keep going.
“Marci, please,” I beg. “Tell him I have to do this to protect him.”
“Can I at least have someone from Jim’s team join you so you have some sort of protection?”
“No.” I look at the timer and see I’m approaching the end of my time. “Let everyone know I’m okay and I’ll check in.”
I disconnect the call and pull the SIM card. Our call was less than two minutes, so even if she wanted to track me, she shouldn’t be able to.
I can’t stay long here at the hotel. I didn’t use my real name when I checked in, but people begin to have better memories after they’re enticed with a hundred thousand dollars. I’ve come this far; I can’t do anything to mess this up now.
I take a quick shower and gather my things, and I’m out the back of the hotel within twenty minutes. I hit the road about eleven am and drive a few miles before I stop to get gas and buy more convenience store snacks to hold me over until I head into the mountains. I have about a two-hour drive to my destination, and I can only hope things work out after I arrive. I can do this.
Despite my rush, I’m struck by the beauty of the Colorado River weaving its way through the Rocky Mountains along the highway. The land changes from jagged mountains to open valleys of farmland sprinkled with oil pumps. I wouldn’t mind living here. I periodically exit the highway to see if anyone is following me, but no one exits with me or seems to be waiting when I reent
er the interstate.
I drive into Glenwood Springs and check my rearview mirror one last time as I exit towards Aspen. I stop for some fast food and again pay attention to the cars around me. This is where a mistake could be bad.
In my mind, I carefully work out what could be going on and what I’m going to say when I arrive. I hope I can be compelling enough.
Basalt is a small community outside of Aspen. At one time it was where the workers and those that served the wealthy in Aspen lived. Now the wealthy live there, leaving most of Aspen to tourists.
I pull off the two-lane highway, still watching my rearview mirror carefully, onto an unmarked gravel driveway. I know the dust cloud behind me will announce my approach before they see or hear me.
When I arrive, he’s standing on the wraparound porch, and four labs rush to meet me. He looks like my father—if my father had spent his winters doing ski patrol and his summers doing construction.
I step out of the car and his eyes go wide when he recognizes me. “What are you doing here?”
“Aren’t you happy to see your half-sister?” I ask.
He crosses his arms. “Depends. The news says you’re armed and dangerous.” He watches me exit the car and doesn’t make a move to approach me.
The dogs greet me with plenty of excitement, and I bend down to lavish them with the attention they’re begging for.
“Since when do you believe everything you hear on the news?” I ask as I walk up the stairs toward him, hesitantly. “They said you died in a car accident.”
Murphy’s been off the grid for over a decade, and I don’t want to screw this up for him, but I need his help.
He opens the front door and ushers me in. He’s being cautious, and I can’t blame him. He leads me into the kitchen where I spot a blond-haired, blue-eyed woman in jeans and a turtleneck with a wool sweater. I wasn’t expecting her. I’m nervous and reluctant to increase the sphere of people who know where I am. If there are kids here, I’ll have to keep moving.
“Anna,” Murphy says, “this is my sister, Maggie.”
She smiles and immediately stands to hug me. I didn’t realize how much I needed this, and a sudden sense of relief wraps me like a warm blanket.
House of Cards (Tech Billionaires) Page 24
