His eyes pierced hers. “You are anything but small, anything but powerless, Abby. This is about me, about my fear of losing you.” He pulled her close, his arms tightening around her, and kissed the top of her head. “You’re the only thing in this whole goddamn world that means something to me, don’t you know that?”
She nodded against his T-shirt and pushed aside their disagreement. It didn’t matter. Not right now. All that mattered was this man, this man who was her best friend, her lover, her life.
She told herself they would figure out the rest together, ignoring the feeling that the wheels of something dark and dangerous were in motion — and that Jason was at the controls.
Nine
Max entered the Bellagio and headed straight for the elevators. He’d gotten a call from Nico early that afternoon saying they had new information, and while Max hadn’t been enthused about the idea of leaving Abby — especially given the fact that they’d spent most of the morning in bed — he wanted more than ever to get Jason out of town.
Preferably via prison.
Having Abby back in his arms only made him more aware of how much he had to lose. That was especially true given her bid to help by resuming her job at the Tangier. They hadn’t spoken more about it after the conversation on the terrace that morning, but he knew she hadn’t given up on the idea.
She was giving him a break, letting him settle into the idea that she was back, that she was safe, before she brought it up again.
He’d already compiled a mental list of reasons why it would be foolish — and dangerous — for her to go back to the Tangier. Ideally, he wouldn’t need it. Ideally, the Syndicate had had some kind of breakthrough that rendered Abby’s participation moot.
It was pretty much the only upside to the meeting, one in which Farrell Black would undoubtedly act like an asshole while Nico tried to pretend he wasn’t one.
The elevator dinged and Max exited on the thirty-fifth floor. He followed the signs to the Penthouse Suite.
He hadn’t been surprised when Nico gave him the location of their meeting. He was getting used to the fact that the Syndicate defied every stereotype Max had about organized crime.
They weren’t some band of Italian thugs operating out of the back room of a restaurant. Their operation was more like a multi-billion dollar conglomerate, one where the luxury was extreme and unapologetic. It was written in the cut of Nico’s suits, in his casual mention of a home in Rome and an apartment in New York. He hadn’t even been surprised when Abby told him Angel Vitale had settled Abby’s hotel bill while she’d packed, then whisked her off to the airport in Tulum where they boarded a private plane bound for Vegas.
He stopped at the door to the Presidential Suite and knocked. The door opened, and he was surprised to see Luca Cassano standing on the other side.
He opened the door wider. “Come in.”
Max stepped into the suite’s sprawling living room. Farrell Black stood by the bar at one end of the room while Christophe Marchand sat serenely on one end of the modern sofa, Nico occupying one of the wing chairs opposite it.
“All hands on deck,” Max observed.
Nico stood and extended his hand. “Vegas is important to us.”
Max shook his hand. “Would you like a drink? Farrell can get you something.”
“He can get it himself,” Farrell said, ambling over to the living area and lowering himself into one of the empty chairs.
Max crossed the room, poured himself a whiskey, and leaned back against the bar, his eyes drawn to the wall of glass that overlooked the city. He could just make out the top of the Tangier’s casino, its bulbous dome giving rise to the two towers on either side that held the hotel. Jason was there, pretending to be Mr. Fortune 500 when really he was just a criminal in a suit, no better than the men that surrounded Max in the suite.
He turned to look at them and realized it wasn’t true. The Syndicate was an illegal enterprise, there was no way to sugarcoat that, but he couldn’t compare Nico and the others to Jason Draper. At least they were honest about what they did. At least they had limits, lines they wouldn’t cross.
And if they wanted to shut down Jason and DeLuca, they couldn’t be all bad.
The enemy of my enemy and all that.
“You were right,” Nico said. “The men making drops at the Tangier are DeLuca’s.”
Max nodded.
Nico tapped a manilla envelope on the coffee table in front of the sofa. “I’ve had our cyber lab compile details on each of them, in case you’re interested. If you’d rather not have a hard copy, we can set you up with an encrypted email account.”
Max left the envelope where it was. He didn’t give a shit about DeLuca’s men, wasn’t interested at all in their history. They were cogs in the wheel of the DeLuca money laundering scheme, a means to an end.
That’s all.
“What about distribution?” Max asked.
“Haven’t figured that part out yet,” Farrell said. “Which is where you come in.”
Max wasn’t fooled by Farrell’s nonchalant slouch. He knew instinctively that Black was like a bear — massive but surprisingly fast.
“How so?” Max asked.
“You’ve got a connection inside the casino,” Farrell said. “One I understand Nico helped resolve to your satisfaction.”
“Abby isn’t a connection,” Max said through clenched teeth. He looked at Nico. “And I didn’t ask you — or your wife — to intervene. In fact, I wish you hadn’t.”
It wasn’t true. Abby would have been safer in Mexico, but her absence had been slowly killing him, and seeing the haunted look in her eyes, the sharp planes of her body where before there had been curves, he had a feeling it had been killing her, too.
He wouldn’t breathe easy until the DeLucas and Jason were shut down, but at least Abby was home. He would keep her safe.
The corners of Nico’s mouth lifted in a wry smile. “Be that as it may, Abby is back in town, and Farrell is right, she’s got an in with Jason.”
“No,” Max said.
“No?” Farrell sneered.
“That’s right,” Max said. “Next idea?”
He was surprised when Luca spoke next. “I understand your position.”
“Do you?”
Luca nodded. “All of us do. Don’t let these guys fool you. We all have women we love and would do anything protect.”
“And they’ve all been in danger at one time or another,” Christophe added quietly, “either through their insistence or through sheer circumstance. I’m afraid it can’t always be avoided.”
“This time it can,” Max said.
“What will happen to Abby if we can’t shut down Jason Draper?” Christophe asked.
“Nothing will happen to her.” Max spoke around the knot in his stomach, because he already knew where this was going. “She’ll quit the Tangier, find another job, distance herself from Jason.”
“And you think Jason Draper will allow that?” Christophe asked. “That he will simply let you and Miss Sterling peacefully live out your lives together here?”
“I’ll hire private security for her if I have to,” Max said.
It sounded desperate, even to his own ears. Not because he wouldn’t do it or because he couldn’t, but because he was grasping at straws. The men around him had already made their point and Max knew it.
“I think we all know it won’t be that simple,” Nico said. “Especially with Jason’s new… employees.”
Max understood the implication: men like Bruce Frazier would do any job that put money in their pockets. Who knew how far Jason would go to make a point if Abby turned her back on him?
Nico continued. “The only way to assure Abby’s safety is to eliminate Jason Draper.”
“And the best way to do that is to drive a wedge between him and DeLuca, let DeLuca do the work for us.”
Max thought about his last meeting with Nico and Farrell when he’d asked them what they would do with the
money once they figured out how it was being moved.
We steal it.
“You think stealing the money will be enough to end the partnership between Jason and the DeLucas,” Max said.
“I don’t know about you,” Farrell said, “but I think I’d throw a paddy if someone was responsible for a few million of my dollars and it went missing.”
“I think it’s a fine strategy,” Max said, “as long as it doesn’t involve Abby.”
“And Abby?” Luca asked. “What does she think?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Max said. “She’s not doing it.”
He heard Abby’s voice in his head as he said it: I’m part of this, whether you like it or not.
Luca stood and crossed to the bar. No one spoke as he poured himself a drink and returned to the sofa, and Max had the sense that it was in deference to Luca’s reserve. That like Christophe, Luca didn’t talk much — and that meant when he did, people listened.
“With all due respect,” Luca said, “I’d suggest you ask her, and I say that as a man who loves a high-spirited, determined woman who doesn’t take lightly to being excluded or patronized.”
Farrell laughed, and Max was surprised to hear something like warmth in it. “It’s not like you’ve got the corner on stubborn women, mate. We’ve all been there. Being straight with them is sometimes a challenge — but keeping them out of the loop is a real bitch in the long run.”
Max was starting to see their point, and he didn’t like it one bit. What would he say to Abby if he didn’t agree to let her go back to work at the Tangier? Their conversation this morning already made it obvious telling her to stay out of it wasn’t going to work.
And Christophe was right: if Abby quit the Tangier, Jason would know Max had told her everything, which would basically put a target on her back. He could try to protect her, hire private security — if she’d let him — but they couldn’t stay with her 24/7.
That she wouldn’t allow.
He thought briefly about getting her out of town and quickly discarded the idea. She wouldn’t allow that either, and he wouldn’t feel any safer with her out of his sight.
The men were all looking at him with expectation, which only made him more pissed off.
He set down his glass and stood. “I’ll be in touch.”
He wasn’t going to make a decision about Abby’s safety on their timetable.
He was almost to the door when Nico spoke behind him. “Max?”
He turned around.
“Don’t take too long. They get more powerful by the day."
Ten
Abby slid into the booth at Lou’s Diner and ordered a black coffee. Her visit to her dad’s apartment had been surprisingly peaceful. She’d arranged from Mexico for his bills to continue being paid and had ordered a weekly grocery delivery, but she couldn’t help wondering if her absence had given him a fresh appreciation for her visits.
She’d dropped off some food and cleaned out his fridge, then picked up a little around the apartment before leaving. He hadn’t said more than five words to her, but none of them had been hateful, so there was that. It was a low bar, but there was nothing she could do about it.
She looked up as the door of the diner opened and saw Meredith scan the interior. Abby raised her hand until Meredith spotted her. She made a beeline for the back of the diner and Abby stood, anticipating the hug that would arrive with her best friend.
“Oh, my god! I am so happy to see you!” Meredith squealed as they embraced. “I thought you were never coming back.”
Abby laughed. “Never is a long time.”
Meredith pulled back to look at her. “You look awesome! Tan and healthy — maybe a little too thin, but still awesome.”
Abby smiled and sat down in the booth while Meredith did the same. “I wish I could take a long lunch, but you know how Timeclock is.”
Abby made a face. “Ugh. I do."
Ted Thompson — aka Timeclock — was Meredith’s boss at her job as an accountant for the Golden Nugget hotel and casino. He watched the clock like a hawk, calling Meredith in for “employee counseling” if she was even a couple minutes late in spite of the fact that she was a salaried employee.
Abby had known more than one boss like Timeclock. They were almost always men who enjoyed lording their power over the women who worked for them.
She looked up as a tall, thin waiter came over to take their order. They both ordered club sandwiches and more coffee, and Abby braced herself for an onslaught of questions from Meredith as he turned away.
“So… are you back for good?” Meredith asked when he was out of earshot.
“I think so.” Abby didn’t know for sure, but she knew she would go wherever Max went, and she didn’t see him leaving Vegas any more than she saw herself leaving it.
“And Max?” Meredith asked softly.
Abby didn’t blame Meredith for tiptoeing around the subject of Max. She’d left town in a hurry, her mind reeling, part of her still not wanting to believe what she’d seen on the video Jason had given her.
She should have listened to her instincts. Jason had worked her like a pro. She was relieved to feel a surge of anger race through her body at the thought of him. It was better than the conflict she’d been feeling. Better than the conflict she’d felt when thinking about Max while she was in Mexico.
This, at least, was clear: a swell of white-hot rage that seeped outward from her chest, that made every nerve ending in her body tingle with the desire to make Jason pay.
“I think we’re going to work it out,” she finally said, answering Meredith’s question.
Meredith took a sip from her water glass. “And you’re sure that’s best for you?”
“What do you mean?” Abby asked.
Meredith shrugged. “I just want you to be happy and safe, Abb. I don’t know what went down between you, but I know how much you love him, and I know loving someone that much doesn’t always make it easy to see clearly.”
Abby reached across the table and squeezed Meredith’s hand. “I’m okay, I promise. What happened between us was just a misunderstanding.”
Meredith leaned back as the waiter returned with their food. He set everything down and asked if they needed anything else, then headed back toward the kitchen.
“He never…” Meredith hesitated.
Abby froze. “Never what?”
“He never hurt you or anything, did he?” Meredith asked.
“What?” Abby was horrified, then reminded herself that Meredith didn’t know anything about what had happened between her and Max. Abby had told her she would explain later, had been obviously distraught when she’d begged Meredith to watch the house while she was gone. “God, no! It was nothing like that, I swear.”
“Okay, whew,” Meredith said. “You were so upset when you left. I guess I imagined the worst.”
Shame heated Abby’s face. She should have explained before she left for Mexico, should have known Meredith would imagine something like an abusive relationship.
“I’m sorry for doing that to you,” Abby said. “I should have called from Mexico to tell you everything.”
Meredith picked up her sandwich. “Tell me now.”
Abby hesitated. She had no idea how any of this worked. For all she knew, she was endangering Meredith just by being seen with her. Abby didn’t want to put her in more jeopardy by saying too much.
But she had to tell Meredith something. Her best friend was smart as a whip. She wasn’t going to buy some bullshit story about a fight. Abby had loved Max as long as she could remember. No way would Meredith buy that Abby had fled to Mexico for a month because of a garden variety argument.
“I actually didn’t leave because of Max,” she finally said. “Not really.”
Meredith finished chewing. “What are you talking about? You said you and Max had a fight.”
“I was… simplifying.”
“Simplifying?” Meredith checked the time on her phone. “I
have forty more minutes. Give me as much of the complicated version as you can.”
Abby leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I can’t say too much, but it turns out Jason is running some illegal activity through the Tangier.”
Meredith snorted.
“What?” Abby asked.
“I’m not surprised.” She froze. “Wait… are you?”
“I was at first,” Abby said. “Are you saying you knew?”
“I don’t know Jason well enough to know anything, but he’s always struck me as the type who will do pretty much anything for money, and more importantly, for power.” Meredith lifted an eyebrow. “Then again, money and power are kind of interchangeable in this world, so…”
“I was surprised,” Abby said. She didn’t want to tell Meredith about the DarkNet games. The less Meredith knew about Jason and the DeLucas, the better. “I didn’t even believe it at first, and Jason… well, he tried to get me to believe Max was part of it.”
Understanding dawned on Meredith’s face. “Now I get it: Jason lied about Max.”
“Exactly, and I bought it. I believed him without even talking to Max.”
“And it turns out Max wasn’t part of it at all?”
“Nope.” She wished she could tell Meredith the truth — that not only was Max not part of it, but he was actually trying to put a stop to it.
“Damn,” Meredith said. “That sucks. Max must have been beside himself while you were gone.”
“I know,” Abby said miserably.
Meredith tipped her head in sympathy. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. It sounds like an impossible position to be in. Jason is — was? — one of your best friends, not to mention your boss and mentor.”
“Max was — is — one of my best friends, too,” Abby said. “And so much more. I should have talked to him before I left.”
“But you’ve talked to him since you got back, right?” Meredith asked. “And it’s all good?”
“I think so,” Abby said. “I just feel terrible about it. I think he had a really hard time while I was gone.”
Wages of Sin: Las Vegas Syndicate Book Two Page 6
