by Rebecca York
Several thousand people, mostly doctors, were attending the meeting. Although it should have been easy for Noah to lose himself in the crowd, Hemmings managed to find him and sit with him at a couple of sessions on brain chemistry and cell regeneration.
“What do you think of the conference?” Hemmings asked as they filed out of the seminar room.
“You’ve done a great job of setting up the program.”
The doctor looked pleased, and Noah found himself sucked into a half-hour conversation about the various professionals who were presenting papers.
The topics were interesting, and Noah had attended a number of the sessions, but he wasn’t learning more than he’d picked up from the journals he regularly read. He declined Hemmings’s invitation to meet some of the speakers for dinner and went to the Fountain Bar. When Olivia wasn’t there, he felt a spurt of disappointment—and alarm.
Once again, he told himself that Olivia Stapler’s private life was none of his business. Still, she was the reason he didn’t seem to be able to focus on the topics under discussion. Finally he gave up. Back in his room, he changed into jeans and a T-shirt, then got out his laptop and looked up her name in a private and very expensive database.
He found Olivia Stapler quickly. What he read matched the facts she’d given him, but it was only part of the story. Until four months ago, she’d been dancing in the popular show at a top Vegas hotel. After that, he found medical records and a notation that she’d been forced out of her former apartment for nonpayment of rent.
Clearly she was in financial trouble and had been putting off paying some of her bills. Her phone was about to be cut off and the electricity bill was weeks overdue. They’d shut that off that, too. Then she’d get kicked out of her apartment if she couldn’t come up with the rent.
He went a bit further back into her life. The family was from Paterson, New Jersey. The father had been an auto salesman who’d lost his wife and struggled to hold the family together. Olivia had been an excellent student, but her grades had slipped after her mother’s death. She’d taken dance lessons since she was ten, the star of the local recitals. And she’d come to Las Vegas a couple of years ago. Was the brother already here, he wondered, or had he followed her?
With a sigh, Noah looked up men with the same last name and finally came up with Pearson Stapler—the brother, who had a record of arrests and convictions. He’d done several jail terms for assault and robbery. No surprise, from the way he’d come across in the brief encounter with his sister in the lobby.
Noah wasn’t sure exactly what Pearson had in mind for his sister, but it was obvious Olivia didn’t like it.
As he read the background information on Pearson Stapler, Noah felt a knot of dread forming in his stomach. Unable to shake off the sick feeling, he knew he had to go to her apartment. Leaving the hotel, he retraced his steps toward her apartment building.
The closer he got to the run-down complex, the faster he walked, so that he was almost running by the time he reached the front of Olivia’s building.
As he stood near the entrance, debating what to do, a woman came down the stairs and looked at him from the landing above, before descending to the mailboxes and opening one with a key.
After taking out the mail, she gave him an inquiring look.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m waiting for someone.”
“I hoped maybe you were here to help that poor girl.”
“That, too.”
The woman walked up the stairs, then turned to look at him as he headed down. When he gained the lower landing, he heard raised voices coming from apartment 1A.
Quietly, he moved closer, listening to the argument on the other side of the door.
“I’m tired of you telling me what to do.” The speaker was Olivia.
“You don’t have a choice.” That was a man, probably Pearson Stapler.
“The nursing home called. Dad’s pretty out of it. He couldn’t speak to me and he won’t be able to speak to you, either.”
“You bitch. You’re giving up a chance to make some real money.”
“I don’t want that kind of money.”
“Well, I do. And whether you want it or not, you’re going to help me out.”
“No.”
“Listen, I never had a chance. You got all the breaks.”
“That’s bull. I made my own breaks by working hard. Get out of here. Now.”
“You’re going to be sorry.”
The voices stopped, and he heard scuffling sounds from inside the apartment.
Quickly, Noah reached for the doorknob. It turned in his hand.
When he stepped into a dimly lit room, the two people inside were so focused on each other that neither one of them noticed he’d come in.
Olivia had backed into the kitchen, her hips pressed against the cabinets.
Her voice came out hard and clear as she said, “I swear to God, if you don’t get away from me, you’re going to be sorry.”
Her brother laughed. “Oh yeah, and what are you going to do about it, Miss Gimp?”
“This.” Reaching into the drawer next to her, Olivia took out a knife and held it in her fist. “Get away from me. Now.”
The smart thing would be for the brother to back off. Instead he snarled, “You wouldn’t dare,” and charged toward Olivia.
She was desperate enough to slash at him with the knife, but it looked like she didn’t really want to hurt him, because the blade didn’t come close.
He jumped back, just out of range.
“Get away from her,” Noah shouted.
Pearson was focused on Olivia, but she raised her eyes in shock to stare at Noah.
The distraction gave Pearson the opening he needed, and he leaped forward. Twisting her wrist and taking the knife away from her, he held the top of the gleaming blade directly over Olivia.
Chapter Five
With a sick feeling, Noah realized he had tipped the balance in the wrong direction. While Olivia was distracted, Pearson brought his arm down in a savage strike.
Her dancer’s reflexes had her dodging quickly aside, and the knife would have missed her entirely if she hadn’t slammed into the side of the cabinet. Instead, the downward arc of the blade tore through the fabric at the side of her blouse, and she screamed.
It happened in seconds.
When the brother raised his hand for another blow, Noah sprang forward and grabbed for the knife. The blade caught him in the palm. Pain lanced through him, but he ignored it, twisting Pearson’s wrist with the other hand. Stapler screamed and dropped the weapon.
Noah kicked it away. It clattered across the floor and slid half under the stove.
“Go after someone your own size,” Noah ground out right before he punched Stapler in the chin. The man grunted and went down with a satisfying thunk.
Noah snatched up the knife and shoved it into his belt, then raced toward Olivia who lay on the floor, a red stain spreading across her dress.
Still ignoring his own injury, he looked wildly around and saw nothing to stanch the bleeding from Olivia’s wound. His only option was to pull off his T-shirt and use that. When his arms were out of the sleeves and his head was covered, he heard Olivia’s frantic shout, “Watch out!”
Scrabbling feet told him that Stapler was up and moving. As Noah pulled his head through the shirt, smearing blood across the fabric, the brother came crashing into him, knocking him sideways. He fought to throw the man off him, but he felt fists pummeling his chest, his face. Then a punch to his kidney sent pain shooting through his back.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Olivia lift her leg and kick out with her foot, catching her brother squarely in the shoulder.
“You bitch.”
Pearson’s focus shifted as he lunged for Olivia. But Noah was already grabbing for him. Clawing his fingers into the back of the man’s shirt, he heaved him across the room, where he landed with a whooshing sound. This time, he didn’t get up.
Somewhere in Noah’s consciousness, he heard a siren wailing. Ignoring it, he pulled the shirt off and hurried toward Olivia who lay wide-eyed on the floor.
“You’re hurt,” he said as he knelt beside her and pressed the fabric to her side.
“So are you.”
“It looks worse than it is,” he said, using an old fallback line. “You’re the one who needs medical attention.”
Before he could say anything else, two uniformed police officers pounded into the room.
The brother pushed himself up to a sitting position and turned toward the cops, spewing a bunch of bull that had Noah staring in amazement.
“Thank God you’re here. My sister’s hurt. This man broke in and attacked her. Watch out. He’s got a knife. It’s right there, sticking out of his belt.”
“That’s a lie,” Olivia shouted. “Noah didn’t attack me. It was my brother who did it. Noah got him off me.”
Both cops drew their weapons. The one whose badge identified him as Clairmont looked from Noah to Stapler and back again. “Throw down the knife. Very carefully.”
Noah pulled the bloody weapon from his belt and tossed it onto the floor, where it clattered across the tiles.
“Now both of you guys, raise your hands,” Clairmont growled.
Shirtless, Noah turned and faced the cops, his hands in the air. His right palm was still bleeding, but the cut was already closing.
He’d been arrested many times over the years, and he knew that if you made the wrong move, you could get hurt. He wasn’t worried about himself. But Olivia was injured, and he wasn’t going to leave her twisting in the wind.
Speaking slowly and distinctly he said, “The woman on the floor is bleeding. I was trying to make a compress out of my shirt. She needs an ambulance.”
The cop’s gaze flicked from him to Olivia. “She doesn’t look so bad.”
Noah forced himself not to leap across the room and grab the guy. “How the hell do you know?”
Clairmont made a dismissive sound. “Women like her are resilient.”
“Like what?”
The cop gave him a smirking look. “You know the kind.”
Noah’s hands clenched. He wanted nothing more than to punch the cop, but that would only get him arrested and then he wouldn’t be able to help Olivia.
The cop spoke into the microphone attached to his collar, calling for backup and an ambulance.
“Arrest him,” Stapler spat out, repeating his lie. “He came in here and started attacking my sister.”
Noah kept his own voice calm. “It’s just the opposite. If you talk to the woman upstairs, you’ll find out that Stapler arrived before I did and started beating up on Olivia.”
Clairmont looked like he might be persuaded to Noah’s point of view. Then the other officer stepped forward.
“Not so fast. We’ve gotten reports on the two of them. They’ve been hanging around the Fountain Bar at the Calvanio. They’re up to their eyeballs in some kind of dirty scam and we’re going to find out what it is.”
Noah heard Olivia gasp. He gave her a reassuring look, wondering exactly what he was going to say now, but he’d learned over the years that ideas came to him when he was in the midst of a crisis.
“It’s not Olivia’s fault,” he said, then gestured toward the man on the floor. “Her brother, Pearson Stapler, is trying to blackmail her.”
“Oh yeah? What’s she done?” the second cop asked.
Noah was instantly sorry he’d put it in those terms. “Nothing,” he spat out. “But her father is in a nursing home. Pearson’s been threatening to tell him a pack of lies about her, just like he’s lying now.”
Olivia gaped at him. He was sure she wanted to ask how he knew that piece of information, but he gave his head a small shake, telling her to keep her mouth shut until the two of them could speak privately.
She was smart enough to take the silent suggestion.
On the other hand, the brother was dumb enough to keep digging himself deeper into a hole. “I saw you leave the bar with her,” he shouted. “She went up to your room for some fun and games, and you just met her!”
Noah kept his own voice mild. “You may have seen us the other day, but I guess you didn’t see us before. She and I are old friends.” Addressing the cops, he said, “I’d appreciate it if you could cut her some slack. She’s been hurt.”
“That’s bull! Tell me where you met her before,” Stapler bellowed.
The cop turned to him and snapped. “Button it up, buddy. We’ve got to sort this out.”
The brother looked like he wanted to strangle Noah for interfering with his plans, but Clairmont hoisted him off the floor, cuffed him, then patted him down.
After taking care of Pearson, he advanced on Noah. “Put your hands behind your back.”
He hated going to the police station shirtless. But he figured that Olivia needed the shirt more than he did.
Teeth clenched, he let the cop cuff him.
Two more officers hurried into the room, and Clairmont explained the situation, then added, “The two guys are going down to the station. The woman’s going to the hospital, under guard. We’ll reassess her status after she sees a doctor.”
One of the newcomers grabbed Stapler’s arm.
Noah’s gaze shot to Olivia. “It’s going to be okay,” he said, wondering if he was lying. Then he switched his attention back to the cops. “I’m registered at the Calvanio Hotel. I’m also registered at the Longevity Conference being held there. You can check me out with Dr. Sidney Hemmings. He personally invited me to the conference.”
“You a doctor?”
He was tempted to say that he was a philanthropist who gave millions to medical research, but he knew it was better to maintain his low profile. “Just a private researcher,” he answered.
Clairmont snorted. “A hanger-on.”
“No!”
Before Noah could say anything else, they hustled him out of the room. His last glimpse of Olivia was of her white face as Clairmont crouched beside her.
AT LEAST they hadn’t booked him, Noah thought as he looked at the palm of his hand. The cut had been a quarter-inch deep. Now it was only a thin white line. In the next few hours it would be gone entirely.
Nobody had asked him about the injury. Probably they’d all assumed it was Olivia’s blood on his shirt.
They’d left him to wait in an interrogation room at the downtown Las Vegas police station and they’d even given him a white T-shirt. He’d said again that he was registered at the hotel and the conference. He’d asked them to run his driver’s license and he’d given the same address that he’d given to the cops on Grand Cayman. His San Francisco condo. It was a legitimate address. It just wasn’t where anybody was likely to find him.
They’d taken the information and told him to wait.
Early in his checkered career, he’d gotten into some interesting scraps. Like the time he’d succumbed to temptation and let the nobles of a small European country set him up as their king. For a few glorious years, he’d enjoyed lording it over the locals, taking his pick of the kingdom’s wealth and its women. He’d been enjoying himself too much to realize that one of the dukes was setting him up to lose a nasty little war so that the duke could take over the throne.
Noah had ended up sneaking out of the kingdom in the middle of the night, leaving his mistresses and most of the royal treasury behind.
That had been an important lesson. He’d decided that his best strategy was to live as a member of the upper-middle class. He’d shunned positions of power until the medicine man of a Native American tribe had designated Noah, alias Eagle Feather, as his successor. He’d counseled the tribe against going up against the soldiers in the area, only to see a troop of cavalry swoop into camp and kill everyone in a horrendous bloodbath. Of course, the outcome would have been the same for the tribe if they’d decided on an attack, but they would have taken a bunch of soldiers with them.
The troops had left Eagle Feather for dead, along with the rest of the men, women and children who had just wanted to live their lives on their ancestral lands.
Noah had recovered, of course, and slipped into the soldiers’ camp, where he’d quietly slit the throats of fifteen of them before he’d gotten the hell out of there.
After that, he’d cut his hair, stolen some clothing from a cowpuncher and built up his capital as a card shark in a bunch of two-bit western towns. A couple of times, he’d been shot by a sore loser, but he’d always survived the attack and gone on to kill the would-be assassin.
Those were the bad old days of the Wild West, when the law was on the side of the strong and the ruthless. Life was supposed to be more civilized in twenty-first-century America.
As the rule of law asserted itself, Noah had enjoyed a period of peace and prosperity. As much as possible, he’d lived his life out of the spotlight, but modern technology had made life more difficult for him again.
With the advent of surveillance cameras and computer databases, everything was on record and it was harder to keep the details of his life away from prying eyes, like the Las Vegas Police Department.
Although he knew a camera had to be noting his reactions, he couldn’t sit still in the hard wooden chair pulled up at a scarred table.
As he paced back and forth, he thought about all the mistakes he’d made in his life. Olivia was likely one of them.
But he couldn’t get her out of his mind.
Was she in the hospital or had they discharged her and brought her down here?
She’d been through some tough times in the past few months, and she’d survived better than most people could. Another woman would have sunk into depression and given up. She’d hung in and tried to figure out a new direction for herself. Too bad her brother was determined to screw with her life.
As he paced back and forth in the small room, he glanced at his watch again, wondering how long they were going to let him stew. Wasn’t an hour long enough for them to look up Stapler’s record and verify that he was a petty criminal?
He was about to bang on the door in frustration when it opened, and Clairmont stepped in. A man in a rumpled summer-weight sports jacket and dark slacks was with him.
