by Jo Leigh
“Thank you.”
“If you need anything, I’m right here.”
“We’ll be fine. You should take a little time for yourself. Relax. Get out for a bit.”
“I may do just that.” She kissed Patrick, who was wiggling ferociously in Nick’s arms. “Be good, lovie.”
“Swimming!”
“Right on, my man,” Nick said. “To the pool.”
“To the pool!” Patrick repeated, although about five decibels louder.
It didn’t take long to get to the deck outside Todd’s suite. It was, as everything else that belonged to the man, opulent and extravagant in the extreme.
The pool itself was shaped like a slot machine, complete with a lap-pool arm. The entire deck surface was marble tile, and each of the slot’s windows had the company logo in bright red letters. At the deep end, there was a diving board and a slide.
A separate whirlpool, raised on a platform, was nearer the outdoor cabana. It looked to Nick as though it could hold a dozen people, easily. Then there were the overstuffed lounge chairs, tables with bright, logo umbrellas, and a complete bar. There was also a barbecue range to the right of the bar. It was ideal for entertaining, although Nick knew Todd didn’t care for the water.
Jenny got settled on a lounger while Patrick jumped up and down in his anxiety to get in the water. Bowing to the inevitable, she slathered every available surface with sunscreen, then pushed small inflatable rings onto his upper arms. By the time she was finished, he was in a frenzy.
Nick stripped down to his trunks. “I’ll take him,” he said. “You take your time.”
“You do know how to swim, right?”
He nodded. “I do. I even got my life-saving badge from the Red Cross. He’ll be fine.”
“Thank you.” She handed the boy over, their fingers brushing during the exchange. It wasn’t much, but it was the most contact they’d had in a couple of days. Nick reacted in a most masculine fashion and hoped the water was cold.
It wasn’t. It was quite warm, although not uncomfort able. Patrick started splashing immediately, so Nick dove under, just to get wet.
For the next half hour, the two of them played. Patrick loved being tossed into the water from Nick’s shoulder. The first time, he’d come up sputtering, but after that, he just held his nose and closed his mouth. It was a hell of a workout for Nick, lifting and tossing him over and over.
Finally he cried uncle and sequestered Patrick in the shallow end of the pool, on the steps.
Nick looked over to see Jenny, her hat and dress still on, sunglasses shading her eyes, a book in her hands. “Hey, you. Get on in here.”
She shook her head. “You’re doing fine.”
“Come on, Jenny. Don’t make me come up there.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“I do dare, so you’d better get your behind in gear.”
She shook her head again, but then he gave her what he hoped was a clear signal, lifting his brow. It worked. She stood, took her dress off.
Nick swallowed as he got a load of her in one of the tiniest bikinis he’d ever seen. She was barely covered. Clearly, it was a Todd purchase, because Jenny was far too modest to have picked it out herself.
She took off her hat and sunglasses, and did a quick swipe of her upper body with sunscreen.
Nick turned his attention to Patrick. It was much safer that way.
Jenny finished with the sunscreen and looked around for something that would delay her entry into the pool. She’d run out of props. She would play with Patrick, which would be good. It would make her smile seem natural and, maybe, if she were lucky, she’d actually forget for a moment the joke that was her life.
She went to the shallow end of the pool where marble coins flowed out of the oversize bin, and stepped in, pleasantly surprised at the temperature. It made sense. There hadn’t been a day in the past month that was under a hundred degrees.
She wasn’t outside enough to be bothered by it, and it kind of felt good after the steady cool temperature of her cell.
Patrick caught sight of her and went nuts, waving his arms like little propellers. He looked so adorable she couldn’t help but laugh. My God, he was so precious. She couldn’t stand her separations from him. The idea of sending him away to military school made her physically ill. That Todd could even think of taking a child so young to a building implosion was insane. The noise alone was going to give Patrick nightmares for weeks, if not months. He already had such an active imagination, sometimes he frightened her.
Mostly, though, he filled her with such peace that nothing, save his safety, could shake her.
She was plenty shaken now.
“Mommy, watch me.”
“Okay, honey.”
Patrick stood on the second step, where the water came up to the middle of his thigh. He spread his arms out wide, balancing the inflatable rings, then, with a mighty grunt, jumped off the step to land on the first step with a splash.
Jenny applauded wildly. A glance to her right showed her that Nick was clapping, too. Patrick beamed, eating up the attention as if he were starved for it.
It wasn’t true, of course. She saw him every day and she couldn’t have wished for a better nanny. But it felt true.
“He’s something else, isn’t he?”
She hadn’t heard Nick move in beside her. “Yes, he is.”
“It must have been hard, doing it all by yourself. Hiding.”
“Not as hard as this.”
“I know.” He looked behind him, then at Patrick who was doing his jump for the third time. After the splash, Nick clapped, then turned back to Jenny. “Come deeper. As far out as you can.”
She nodded, although the idea of talking in Todd’s own pool made her very nervous. Ever since the night at the restaurant, she’d been as paranoid as a jewel thief in Tiffany’s. She had tried to get more information, something concrete that would ensure her safety and Todd’s conviction, but he’d either stuck too close to her or sent her to her room.
Maybe he knew she’d been spying, but if that were the case, why would he want to marry her? Whatever the reason, escape wasn’t looking good.
She walked to the edge of the shallow section of the pool, the resistance of the water tugging at her as if in warning. She used to love to swim. She’d even been on the swim team in high school. In this obscene bathing suit, she’d never go to a public pool again. It was humiliating. She felt naked.
Nick had scooped Patrick up and had him riding on his shoulders. They’d reached the deep end already and Nick swam around, Patrick splashing and kicking the whole way. He wasn’t exactly being a delicate swan about it, either. Nick would have bruises come tomorrow.
They paddled her way and stopped, Patrick firmly held by Nick’s sturdy hands.
“You need to tell me what you’re doing,” he said.
“I’m not doing anything.”
“I’m serious, Jen. Tell me. It’s all coming down—and I mean soon—and we can’t afford to blow it.”
“I’m not kidding. I haven’t done anything. He’s watching me like a hawk. Either that, or I’m in my room. That’s it.”
“Yeah, he’s been keeping me away, too.”
“You think he knows?”
“No. If he did, we’d be dead. But he might suspect. I personally think that whatever he’s got going is right around the corner.”
“Well?”
He shook his head. “I think he’s going to be doing something serious on the Fourth of July.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m not sure, but it’s going to shake things up, and not in a good way. I think we’re talking heavy money, foreign investors, more than likely highly illegal.”
“Oh, my.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you know who’s involved?”
“No. But we’re going to find out. That’s why we have to be so careful. Jenny, all I can tell you is the stakes are big, and if he stands to win, he
also stands to lose. Todd losing isn’t something you need to see.”
She studied his face, searching for a clue. He was still an enigma to her. “What’s your role in this?”
“I’m going to make sure I win. And that you don’t get hurt.”
“What does that mean? Damn it, aren’t you ever going to tell me the truth?”
He opened his mouth, but his words were cut short as the patio door hissed open. She whirled around to see Todd standing just outside the door.
“Hi, Todd,” she said, a little too sprightly. “Want to come swimming with us?”
He stared at her for a long time. Then shook his head. “No. I’ve got a meeting coming up in a few minutes. But I will sit down and watch for a while.”
“Sure I can’t convince you to take a small dip? The water feels wonderful.”
“No, you go on ahead. Pretend I’m not here. Go on.”
She smiled brightly, then held out her arms. Nick picked up the cue seamlessly and backed up. When he was about five feet away, he lifted Patrick by the boy’s armpits and stood the toddler on his knee. Then, after a count of three, he launched Patrick into the air, right smack into her waiting arms.
Patrick squealed with delight and when Jenny looked at the deck, Todd was smiling happily. Weren’t they just one big happy family?
She focused totally on Patrick, hardly looking at Nick, afraid that she’d give herself away. Wishing for once he’d come clean. If she only understood what he wanted…what he hoped to gain, then she could help him. Or forget him.
She kept a check on Todd as she and Patrick played. It was at least a hundred and five, yet Todd looked cool and comfortable, as if sweat didn’t dare mess up his suit. She knew that one. He’d gone to Italy to have it tailored from material he’d had specially designed. There was only one suit like it in the world. The tie, pale gray, like the suit, was made from silkworms in China. Todd owned the factory. His shoes were also Italian, made of the finest leather by a craftsman who was technically retired but still worked for his best and only customer.
Nick was right. She didn’t want to be around when Todd lost. The only thing that she’d ever seen him lose was her. And she knew how that had turned out.
Sweet was also right. She was expendable. But looking at Todd as he watched her son gave her goose bumps. If he ever knew…
“Jenny.”
She smiled. “Yes?”
“Why don’t you let Nick take Patrick to Mrs. Norris. We’re going to be out late tonight. You might like to rest.”
“No, I’m fine, Todd.”
“Jenny.”
She nodded. Turned to Patrick, who was trying to catch the water in his little fists. “Honey, kiss me goodbye. Mommy has to go in. Nick will take you back to Mrs. Norris.”
He kissed her, then went back to his game. No crying, no histrionics. It hadn’t even been a month and already Mrs. Norris was a suitable replacement for her.
It wasn’t fair. And it wasn’t right. And she’d better go in and rest before Todd used her delay as a reason to make her even more miserable. She climbed out of the pool, Todd’s gaze making her want to cover herself. She felt his eyes on her back as she went for her towel. Did he take pleasure in her humiliation? Of course he did. That’s why he dressed her this way. To own her.
She wrapped herself in her towel and gathered her things. Then she went to Todd, kissed him on the cheek. As she turned to leave, he grabbed her wrist. Hard.
“Take off the towel,” he said.
She knew better than to argue. She let the towel fall to her feet.
He looked her over as if she were a piece of beef. And then, to her horror, he reached up, grabbed her bikini top and pulled it off. She covered her bare breasts with her hands, turned so Patrick wouldn’t see.
Todd laughed. Slapped her on the rear. “Run along. Get some sleep. I want you in a party mood tonight.”
She left the towel, afraid to pick it up, and ran into his suite. Mortification burned her face as she made her way through to his front door. Everything was made just perfect when she ran into Sweet.
His laughter followed her all the way down the hall.
NICK ADDED that little demonstration of abuse to the list of why he was going to kill Todd and smile while doing it. The son of a bitch. He’d done that just to humiliate her. In front of her son, no less.
But he didn’t let it show. He just gathered Patrick up in his arms and headed for the pool steps.
“I don’t wanna!”
“I know, but it’s time.”
“Don’t!”
“Patrick, this isn’t negotiable. You’re going in.”
“I hate you.”
“I’m sure you do, kiddo, but trust me, you’ll get over it.”
“I won’t.”
“Yeah. You will.” He lifted the boy up to eye level.
“I’m a lovable guy. You won’t be able to help yourself.”
Patrick burst into tears. Not the response he was going for. It didn’t matter. He wanted the kid away from Todd. Far away. And the best thing he could do now was to keep it light.
He got Patrick on land, took off the arm inflatables, then dried him briskly with his towel. It didn’t take long, Patrick crying the whole time. Finally he slipped off his trunks, dried off, and pulled on his own slacks. He’d deal with his shirt later, after his shower.
Todd was still sitting there, watching the whole play as if he were the director. He didn’t say anything as Nick picked Patrick up, gathered the last of their stuff and headed for the door. And then he didn’t say goodbye to Patrick, or mention anything to Nick about work. He made some off-the-wall comment about Nick’s birthmark. Weird.
Chapter Thirteen
“Welcome to Las Vegas, Mr. Petrov.”
“Thank you, Inspector. It’s nice to be somewhere warm.”
Edward Potereiko was at the U.S. Customs Office in Las Vegas. He smiled warmly despite his nervousness. His years of military service served him well, allowing him to present a casual demeanor at the final point of danger on his long journey; if they discovered what was in the aluminum case amid the junk furniture he’d bought in Kushiro, the game was most definitely over.
“Well, it’s a dry heat, Mr. Petrov. Most people find it less bothersome than if it’s muggy.”
“I do not think I will ever get used to this level of air-conditioning.”
“It’s different if you have to work in the heat all day, believe me.”
“I am sure it is, Inspector.”
The man finished going through Potereiko’s paperwork and opened a drawer, withdrawing a handful of rubber stamps. He began imprinting the various docu ments. “You realize we still have to take a look inside that crate, sir.”
“Of course. Although in Long Beach, they told me it was a formality.” They’d also stamped the documents in Long Beach. Bureaucracies were the same the world over.
“So, it’s all personal items totaling less than two thousand dollars?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And where will you be taking it from here?”
Potereiko pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and peered at it before handing it across the counter. “I will have somebody pick it up as soon as it passes inspection. I have rented a small house.”
The contrast between the two men could not have been more marked. Even in a Moscow-tailored suit with the tie loosened, Edward Potereiko’s demeanor bore the mark of decades of undiluted military precision, while the inspector, although in uniform, appeared somehow unkempt. The former colonel resisted the temptation to point out a button whose threads were giving way.
The inspector noted the address, a lower-rent area in the northeast area of Las Vegas. “You’ll be living on Cincinnati?”
“If I were not staying for some time, I would not need any personal items.”
The inspector looked over Potereiko’s passport—in the name of Ivan Petrov of course—and noted several earlier visas to the United St
ates. “I see you’ve been here before, Mr. Petrov.”
“It is always a pleasure to visit the cradle of liberty.”
The inspector smiled and Potereiko was reminded of how gullible Americans were. Always easily distracted with the vaguest of compliments. So insecure about their country and its place in the world. And yet so arrogant.
“What’s the purpose of your visit?”
Potereiko began to feel a twinge of irritation. He’d been through all this with Immigration, and didn’t feel the need to explain himself to every petty bureaucrat. Still, he didn’t want that crate to be inspected too carefully. He forced another smile. “I am consulting with Todd Industries on a project. A liaison with the Soviet government.”
The other man whistled as his eyes widened. “Wow, Todd. Doesn’t get much bigger than that.”
“That is my understanding.”
The shorter man handed Potereiko’s papers back to him, taking one last look at the shipping manifest.
“Well, it’s getting late in the day, but we’ll get over to Tiger Shipping at nine in the morning and try to get that cleared for you.”
“I would be deeply grateful. Thank you, Inspector.” Edward thrust his hand forward and the surprised Customs official shook it. Potereiko resisted the temptation to squeeze until the man dropped to his knees. “I will see you in the morning, then.”
“Well, somebody will be there.” The inspector returned to shuffling papers behind the counter as Potereiko headed for the door.
A wall of heat hit him and he paused for a moment, letting the warmth and the airport bustle wash over him. On the other side of the building he could hear the familiar whine of jets, and to the east the sound of a—what did the Americans call it?—a freeway, so much busier than the liveliest Russian highway, even Moscow at lunchtime. His cab was still waiting in front of the Customs office.
He strode to the vehicle and paused to give the driver time to open the door for him, but the man didn’t budge and Potereiko sighed as he climbed into the back seat.
“Gonna have to charge you for the wait, ya know?” the driver said around a wad of gum.
