“Well, what do you know, we actually have a real crime—breaking and entering. Up until now, this whole thing has been smoke and mirrors, and the higher-ups refused to let me spend precious government resources investigating. Now maybe I can sink my teeth into it.” He sounded thrilled.
I was less so. “Glad to be of service.” I guess he wasn’t including the previous break-in as part of Dimitri’s disappearance, which was understandable—so far we hadn’t been able to connect Danilov to our magician.
“Do you know how they got in?” Romeo asked, warming to his task.
“Magic.”
“No signs of forced entry, huh? Any of the windows unlocked?”
“No.”
“And the balcony doors? What kind of lock do you have on them?”
“One of those locks where you turn the little thingy in the door knob, why?”
“No deadbolt?”
“I’m thirty floors up, I didn’t think a break-in was that likely.”
“Lucky, I could pick that lock in under twenty seconds, and I’m not even that good.”
“The fact that you have even developed that skill should give me pause,” I groused, not the least bit pleased with his revelation.
“Do you want me to come over? I can bunk on a couch or something after I go over the place.”
“Thanks, but not necessary. You won’t find anything here—whoever this guy is, he’s darned clever.” As I stared across my great room, I pictured the guy sneaking through. “And if he shows his sorry ass here again, he’s going to be looking at the business end of a Glock.”
Romeo laughed. “I’d pay good money to see that. I’ve seen what you can do when you’re angry.” The last time he’d seen me really angry, there had been a broken nose and blood involved—it was a proud moment.
“You haven’t talked to Molly Rain, have you?” I asked innocently.
“No, I told you we haven’t been able to get a bead on her. Why?”
“Just wondering.”
***
A noise jolted me out of a deep sleep.
I bolted to a sitting position. Heart hammering. Ears straining… listening.
Silence.
Did I imagine it?
A scuffling noise. A light thump.
Someone was in the apartment!
Easing from under the duvet, careful not to make a sound, I grabbed the gun. I tiptoed to the doorway and flattened myself against the wall beside the opening. Dane had been right about always having a round in the chamber.
Taking deep, quiet breaths, I steadied myself. Both hands on the grip, the gun at the ready in front of my chest, I waited.
Where was he?
Muffled footfalls. Swishing sounds of movement. Growing almost imperceptibly louder. He was heading this way.
Time froze. Fight or flight? Trapped, I had no choice.
Blood pounded through me. Sweat trickled down my sides. Adrenaline fired every nerve, forced every brain cell to high alert.
I could hear him breathing. He was close. Not more than a few feet away.
Sounds of movement stopped. I held my breath afraid to make the slightest noise.
Seconds dragged by. Would he leave? Why did he come back? To finish the job? To leave another note? Or to see just how scared I really was.
The moonlight silhouetted a man as he eased through the door. Focused on my bed, he didn’t look in my direction.
Leveling the gun at his head, I growled. “That’s far enough, you son of a bitch!”
The man’s head swiveled toward me as he jumped away. “Lucky? For God’s sake don’t shoot.”
“Teddie?” I didn’t dare believe it. I hit the switch, flooding the room in light.
There he was—big as day. Spiked blond hair, beautiful blue eyes…that grin…and that ass. One look and I tossed the gun on the bed and leapt into his arms, burying my face in his neck. He smelled of exotic places.…
Holding me tight, he pressed the length of me against him. “What the hell do you need a gun for?”
“To put the fear of God into people who sneak in on me.” I said, not wanting to explain further. “And what’s with the surprise? You scared the pee out of me.”
He squeezed me tight as he ran one hand down my back, over my hip. His breath caught. “I had to see you,” he whispered against my neck.
We were still for a few moments, drinking in the nearness, our bodies remembering…
He leaned back, touching my face, a smile tickling his lips. “God how I’ve missed you,” he said before his lips met mine. His kiss sent arcs of heat and desire, frissons of excitement, racing through me. He deepened his kiss and the world disappeared.
“Tell me I’m not dreaming,” I said, when we came up for air.
“I must be,” Teddie said, gasping as my hands found a gap under his shirt—time and distance hadn’t diminished the combustion when our skin touched. “I hoped for an enthusiastic welcome, but I didn’t imagine a naked woman with a gun.”
“Tonight is your Lucky night,” I said, as I worked his shirt and sweater over his head and let my hands roam across his bare chest. Looking into his eyes and biting back a seductive grin, I said, “You must be tired.”
“Don’t play that game with me. I didn’t travel halfway around the world, visit every major American city, and arm-wrestle some poor woman in Cleveland for the last seat on the very last flight to Vegas, to come here to sleep.”
Scooping down, with an arm behind my knees, the other wrapping my shoulders, he picked me up and carried me to bed. With quick movements, he kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his pants, joining me under the covers.
If this was a dream, I never wanted it to end.
Touching his face, tracing the angles and planes, finding tangible proof in the warmth of his skin. “You’re really here,” I whispered.
He didn’t extinguish the light. Instead he pushed back the duvet and let his eyes travel the length of me. A muscle worked in his jaw, but he kept his pace slow, his strokes tender.
I matched his pace—relearning the curve of his shoulders, the breadth of his chest…savoring the feel of him, the taste of him.
His hands, his lips, traced a trail of fire across my skin. More insistent, he recaptured my lips, deepening his kiss… tongues tangling, ragged gasps.
My hand drifted lower, finding him.
A visceral memory. Heat, and torment… a cry against the life that tore us apart… and gave us a moment together. When he buried himself inside me, the tumblers to the lock fell into place—my heart opened… and I was no longer alone.
***
Dawn brightened the eastern sky and yet we fought sleep.
Teddie held me in his arms, one leg thrown possessively over me. He stroked my cheek, ran his thumb over my lips, leaned in for a soft, sweet kiss.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home?” I said, as I traced the outline of the muscles of his chest, unable to stop touching him.
“It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I wasn’t sure I could pull it off.” Teddie lifted my hand to his lips, then pressed it back to his chest before continuing, “Reza got laryngitis—she wasn’t improving. You couldn’t come to Paris. So I hopped a plane—do you have any idea how hard it is to get a flight into Vegas for Halloween?”
“The higher the price, the better the prize,” I teased.
“The price I paid was pretty steep. That woman in Cleveland was ruthless—she took every dollar I had.”
I rolled over, straddling him. “Well, then, time for me to give you your prize.”
Teddie grinned, anticipation lighting his eyes as he reached for me. “How did I get so damned lucky?”
***
Completely exhausted, blissfully drained, I had one last thing to do before wrapping Teddie around me and surrendering to sleep: I had to officially take the morning off.
Brandy answered on the first ring.
“I won’t be in until noon. Is there anything I ne
ed to know about?” I said, too tired to wrestle with the niceties.
“All quiet,” Brandy said, sounding in control and rather pleased with herself. “I took care of a problem at Reception—a reservation mix-up. I found a room at the Bellagio and negotiated a good rate for the guests who had a reservation here, but no room.”
“Very good. Now chase down Vera and ask her how her staff managed to confirm a reservation without a room.”
“Already done. She wasn’t happy with me—something about taking lessons from my boss.”
“Obviously, I’m superfluous. Good job. I have my cell if you need me.”
“Is everything okay?” my second assistant asked. Apparently she was taking mothering lessons from Miss P as well.
I looked at Teddie, his head propped on his elbow as he looked at me. “It’s way better than okay.”
***
The alarm clock jangled me out of a dead sleep. Adrenaline spiked, my heart racing at the assault. Daylight streamed through the windows. The duvet pooled at the end of the bed. I was cold. Reaching to pull the covers over me, memories flooded back. Teddie. I rolled over.
The other side of the bed was empty.
Sitting up, I pushed the hair out of my face as I took stock. No sign of Teddie. If that had been a dream…
Then I smelled it—coffee.
Teddie appeared in the doorway clad in a pair of sweatpants and a grin, holding a mug in each hand. “I heard the alarm. Thought you might need a jump-start.”
“Today, I might need to bypass the usual delivery options and just mainline the stuff.” Taking the mug, I savored the wonderful aroma—vanilla-nut, my favorite—then took a tentative sip, testing the temperature.
“You going to tell me about the gun?” Teddie asked as he sat beside me.
“It’s a long story and I have a few things I have to take care of this morning, but if you’ll move, I’ll tell you my sorry tale—which begins with a top hat, a rabbit, a note, and a vanishing magician—while I take a shower.”
“I am so glad I’m here.” Teddie offered me a hand, helping me untangle myself.
“See what you’ve missed?” I pulled him to me. Skin on skin, I lost myself in his kiss. Before passing the point of no return, I pulled away and led him into my boudoir—I really did need to show my face at work.
Arms crossed, he leaned against the open shower door as I took care of business and brought him up to speed.
“So what do you think is going on?” he asked when I’d finished. “Is the magician pulling some sort of publicity stunt? Or is this whole thing a trick gone bad?”
“Either were possibilities until the B and E, and the threatening note. Now Danilov is all twitchy, Molly Rain is on the lam, and I’ve stepped on somebody’s toes. Seems like more than a harmless stunt.”
“Hence the gun,” Teddie said with a frown. “I don’t like it.”
I could’ve said, “If you were here, your opinion would matter,” but I didn’t. Instead, I changed the subject. “Now it’s your turn,” I said, as I wrapped myself in the towel he handed me, then squeezed the water out of my hair.
“Being on the road has its ups and downs, but it’s still an unbelievable ride. The energy of tens of thousands of people, screaming, chanting, singing along, is intoxicating.” He followed me into my closet where I opened my underwear drawer and peered inside.
“May I?” he asked. At my nod he chose a red lace bra, matching bikini briefs, and garter. With wickedness in his eyes, he watched me don his choices along with a pair of silk stockings. “You take my breath away.”
I rewarded him with my best kiss and offered a silent thank you to Mona who insisted that, while fast cars and short skirts got a man’s attention, sexy underwear sealed the deal. For once, she had been right and I had actually listened.
“So you like the rock star thing?” I asked, praying his answer was no, but knowing in my heart that wasn’t the case.
“It’s more than I ever imagined.” He pulled me into an embrace. “I know it’s not what we talked about, what we envisioned, and I’m sorry for that.”
“You have to chase your dreams, Teddie, wherever they lead.” I tried to smile, but I don’t think I pulled it off.
“With six weeks of concerts behind us, Reza and I are finding a rhythm. I’m even getting some fans of my own.”
“I had no doubt.” One of Teddie’s charms had always been that he remained blissfully unaware of his incredible talents. “How long do you think you’ll be on the road?” I asked, reaching for an air of casual indifference as I pulled a slim Tory Burch skirt and matching sweater set out of the closet.
“She’s booked for several years with a few months off for various holidays. There’s talk of keeping me on for the rest of the gig and doing some recording during the downtimes.”
“I see.” Turning my back on him, I busied myself with face and hair. “Where do I fit into all of this, Teddie?”
If he heard the pain in my voice, he blew right by it. “Can we talk about that later? This doesn’t seem like the right time.”
I turned to face him. “I need to know where we stand.”
“Later, okay?” His face closed, his voice flattened.
I had my answer.
“What do you have on your plate today?” he asked. “May I ride shotgun?”
“First I need to requisition a van out of the truck pool, then I need to pick up some old blankets from housekeeping.”
“Do you have a new job I don’t know about?”
“Crazy Carl Colson has gone underground. If I expect to lure him into the light, I need bait for the trap.”
***
Seated in the passenger seat of the van as I drove, Teddie stuck his hand out the window into the slipstream. He looked tired, and somewhat distracted. Unfortunately, he also looked quite delicious in his ubiquitous jeans that left just enough to the imagination, and his ratty Harvard sweatshirt he had rescued from my closet. Heeding my suggestion, he wore a pair of old Nikes on his feet.
“Are you going to fill me in on this little adventure, or am I just along for the ride?” he asked.
“I got to know Crazy Carl a couple of years ago when security at another of The Big Boss’s properties picked him up—he didn’t fit the mold of our usual clientele. They thought he was credit hunting and wanted to throw him out.”
“Credit hunting?”
“A lot of the folks down on their luck troll the casinos looking for credits the slot players forgot to cash out—you’d be surprised how many they find,” I explained, as I headed south on the Strip. “He swore all he wanted were some old blankets. I was running several departments at the hotel, Housekeeping was one of them, so the guards brought him to me.”
“And he became your friend.”
“Hard not to like a guy who was collecting donations for the people who live under Vegas.”
Teddie’s head snapped around and he stopped playing with the wind. “Under Vegas?”
“There’s three hundred miles of storm drains under the city—it’s possible to enter on the west side of town near the Two-Fifteen and end up all the way east past UNLV without ever coming aboveground—and that’s just a small stretch.”
“People live down there?” Teddie asked, unable to hide his skepticism.
“When you’ve got nowhere else to go.… ”
“Crazy Carl, tell me about him.”
“He’s a permanent resident of the storm drains. Although he could live aboveground—he has a small federal pension—he stays underground for protection.”
“From what?” Teddie asked, as if he didn’t believe a word.
“The Others, at least that’s what he calls them.”
“So he really is crazy?”
“I don’t really know, but I’m pretty sure if he doesn’t have a delusional disorder he’s flirting with one,” I said, as I took a right off the Strip onto Tropicana. “He’s convinced there are people who can read minds, put posthypn
otic suggestions in your head without you knowing it. He’s truly afraid. When the nightmares start and the terrors come, he retreats to the storm drains.”
“What do you want from him?”
“A connection. Crazy Carl used to work at Area 51. So did Danilov.”
***
Teddie didn’t ask any more questions. Just past Decatur, I pulled off the street, nestling the van among the desert shrubs dotting the open field. Laundry put out to dry covered some of the bushes. I smelled the hint of charcoal and something cooking riding on the gentle breeze. Grabbing the few supplies I brought for emergencies, I stepped out of the truck.
As Teddie and I started through the sand toward the entrance to the drains, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. When I turned to look, no one was visible, but I knew they were there. The homeless found shelter in this field among the scrub.
“I can understand the flashlight, but what do you need the golf club for?” Teddie asked.
“A deterrent.” I thrust it at him. “Here, you’re in charge of defense.”
“This is not sounding like a good idea.”
I agreed with him, but I wasn’t about to say so.
The mouth to the storm drain was tall enough for me to stand upright and wide enough for Teddie and me to walk abreast. Graffiti art, some of it very good, covered the walls and ceiling. A few feet inside, Teddie stopped me with a hand on my arm. “How far are you planning on going?”
Eyeing the darkness, I flipped on my Maglite. “About fifty feet in there’s a tunnel that angles off this main line to the right. It opens into a huge junction room. Carl’s camp is in there.”
“It can’t be safe in here.”
“Hence the golf club and my manly-man escort—that would be you, by the way. But I doubt we’ll run into anybody—we’re not going far. Besides, everyone is afraid of Crazy Carl.”
“Should we be?”
“Probably, but we come bearing gifts.”
Teddie stayed at my elbow as the world turned Stygian, our existence reduced to a thin beam of light. Untouched by the warmth of the sun, the dank air held the chill of the night. A half-inch of water sloshed beneath our feet. Smoke hung like a thick cloud above our heads. I tried to ignore the scurrying sounds in the darkness.
So Damn Lucky (Lucky O'Toole Vegas Adventure Book 3) Page 14
