by Ray Hoy
“Obviously not. What do you want?”
“Jack,” she said, stepping close to me and slipping her arms around me. “Don’t be so gruff!”
Susan walked out of the bedroom, wearing nothing but one of my big old football jerseys. Tina looked at her with obvious dismay. I watched as the two women stared at each other. Finally Susan, to her everlasting credit, said, “Hi, my name’s Susan.”
Tina let go of me and stepped back, fixing me with an accusing look.
“And you’re Tina, of course,” Susan went on.
Talk about a pregnant silence.
“Want a cup of coffee, or something?” I said lamely.
Tina glared at me. “What about that big come-on you gave me at the pool today, Frost?”
“Yeah, Frost,” Susan said. “What about that big come-on at the pool?”
“That was no come-on,” I lied. “I think you’re a very attractive young lady . . . .” I glanced at Susan and let that sentence die on the wind.
I noticed Tina was clutching something under one arm. “What do you have there?”
Tina shoved a couple of ledgers into my hands.
“I’m not staying with that old bastard any more,” she said. “Can’t I stay here with you?”
I opened the ledgers and began glancing through page after page of bound spreadsheets. I’m no accountant, but it didn’t take long to realize what I was looking at. “Sure you can,” I said. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Susan turn and stare at me. “You can use the spare bedroom,” I said.
A big smile appeared on Tina’s face. “Terrific!”
“Now how’d this all come about?” I said.
She told us the whole story, starting with the motorcycle cop, right through her taking the ledgers and coming to my RV.
“Varchetta’s not going to be very happy when he finds you’re gone,” I said. “It won’t take him long to figure out that you’re with me.”
“I don’t give a damn what he thinks or does.”
I placed both ledgers on the coffee table in front of me. Susan and I went through the bound spreadsheets, a page at a time. One was obviously the real thing, with the true casino count for each day; the other was for show. The amounts were boggling, but needless to say, not a perfect match.
“Are they important? Will he be upset?” Tina said with anticipation.
I looked at her with a smile. “I think that’s safe to say.”
“Hey, what’s between you two? Did he do something bad to you? Are you going to kill him?”
She waited for my answer. When none was forthcoming, she said, “You’ll have to get by Red Sleeves, you know. Does that worry you?”
“Damn right.”
“You worry a lot, don’t you.”
“Yeah, I do. That’s why I’m still alive.”
She looked at Ripper. “Where’d you get him?”
Before I could reply, she bounced to her feet and was at Ripper’s side. I started to say, “I wouldn’t if I were you—” But it was too late. She threw her arms around Ripper’s neck and hugged him. I sat there, shocked. He simply leaned against her, soaking up the attention.
“Well, isn’t that something,” Susan said, chagrin in her voice. I knew why she was miffed—Ripper wouldn’t have a thing to do with her. In fact, the only other woman he had ever let touch him was Felicia Martinez.
I looked at Tina with new respect. It may sound strange, but I trusted Ripper’s instincts. There was something about this over-the-top kid he liked.
With a bit of relief, I could see Susan’s position on this intruding sex kitten begin to soften. A few minutes earlier she’d seen Tina as merely a female threat to her own territory. Now she sat there looking at her with something akin to sympathy on her face.
Susan got to her feet. “Would you like something to eat?” she said to Tina. The younger woman sat on the floor, her arms still around Ripper. Tina shook her head.
“I would,” I volunteered.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t care for something?” Susan said again to Tina.
“I sure would,” I said. Susan did not even look my way. Somehow the antagonism had shifted from Tina to me.
“How about a fried egg sandwich?” Susan said to Tina.
“That sounds really good,” I said.
“Why don’t you fix Tina’s bedroom,” Susan said, finally looking directly at me.
“You know, I think I’ll do that. And I’ll add an extra blanket, because it’s getting chilly in here.” I patted her on the fanny on the way by, which brought her to attention and earned me a withering look.
Tina went to bed around midnight. As soon as she disappeared, I turned to Susan and put my arms around her. “Still friends?” I said.
She gave me a little smile. “Yeah . . . friends. But I must admit that I’m not too thrilled with the idea of having her in this RV all day alone with you while I’m at work.
“You have nothing to worry about,” I said truthfully. “Actually, it’s an incredible break. I’ve got Giovanni’s daughter, which will give Varchetta a seizure, and I’ve got both ledgers, which will probably be the last straw with his people.”
“It won’t be long before we see Red Sleeves, will it,” Susan said. It wasn’t really a question.
“No.” I felt that old tingle of anticipation in my stomach.
“Can you beat him?” Susan said.
“Yes.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Trust me.”
She helped me wrap the ledgers in plain brown paper. I addressed the package to myself, care of general delivery, Searchlight, Nevada, a small town fifty or sixty miles from Las Vegas. “It’s not that I trust Uncle Sam’s mail service so much,” I said, “but it’s safer than carting them around. Tomorrow morning I’ll call Jilly and tell him what’s in this package, and where I’m mailing it.”
I sat back and put my arm around Susan. “Can you take some time off?”
She shook her head. “I can’t, Jack. We’re understaffed now; several people are out sick. Why do you ask?” She looked worried.
“I’d like to keep you in sight for a while.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“I’m going to take you to work in the morning, and pick you up tomorrow evening. Don’t leave with anyone else but me, okay?” She nodded. I could see that she was scared.
She finally said, “Let’s go to bed and pick up where we left off. I need to have you close.”
I held her against me. “Everything’s going to be fine. Don’t worry.” She nodded without answering, her head against my chest.
* * *
The next morning I dropped Susan off in front of the mall. “I’ll be here about fifteen minutes before you get off work.”
“Be careful, Jack.”
“Susan,” I said.
“Yes?”
“You really look stunning today.” And she did, too. She was dressed to kill, and her hair was pulled into a new style I hadn’t seen before.
“I’ll see you tonight.” She smiled and walked away.
I quickly headed back toward the RV. I wasn’t crazy about leaving my little freak alone too long. She’d been asleep when we’d left.
I parked and quietly let myself in and locked the door behind me. Ripper lay in his customary spot, staring at me. No jogging today, big dog. Today is watch-and-wait day.
I walked into the kitchen and nuked what was left of the coffee Susan had made earlier. I poured a cup and sat down at the kitchen table just as Tina came padding into the kitchen, completely naked except for a gold belly chain. She flopped down on a chair and leaned forward, both huge breasts resting on the table top. “We’re alone, Frost,” she said with a wicked grin.
“Tina, do us both a favor and get some clothes on.”
She frowned. “Everyone keeps telling me to get my clothes on.” She looked down at her body. “Am I ugly or something?”
She dropped a piece of bread into the toaster, and
waited for it to pop up. When it did, she buttered it and sat back and stared at me, a “We’ll-wait-and-see-what-happens” look on her face. A bit of melted butter dropped from the bread and landed between her breasts. We both watched, fascinated, as it ran slowly down over her flat stomach and into her navel.
I cleared my throat and got to my feet. “I’m going to take a shower,” I said. “Stay right here until I get out, and don’t open the door for anyone, understand?”
She propped a long brown leg up on the edge of the kitchen table, and sat there spread-eagled, challenging me with a leer. “Sure you don’t want to stay and talk?”
“I’m sure.” She was an erotic sight, with that deep tan, long wild hair, and incredible breasts. On top of that she was just plain beautiful, but not as beautiful as she would be in another year or two when her face lost that baby doll look and took on the more subtle beauty of a mature woman.
I left the kitchen, knowing it was time to get out of there. I walked into the bathroom, locked the door behind me, and took a quick shower. The kid had me jumpy already, and the day was just starting.
Chapter 9
James Red Sleeves stood in front of the mirror-covered wall of the special exercise room in his plush suite. He wore only bikini briefs, which were soaked through with perspiration from an hour of bone-creaking stretching exercises.
He tensed his body and watched with a critical eye as the sinewy muscles rippled beneath his wet skin. There was no fat on his frame, only hard muscle that he had developed to a high degree of perfection through years of pain and perseverance. He avoided exercises that would add bulk to his frame, bulk which would not be advantageous to the specialized martial arts kicks that depended on speed and pinpoint accuracy.
Satisfied, he stepped into the shower. Minutes later he toweled himself dry and walked to a closet that ran the width of the bedroom wall. He pressed a button. The doors slid open, presenting the vast wardrobe he had assembled from the finest clothiers in the world. He selected a pair of crisp dark blue slacks and a wheat-colored cashmere sweater. He stepped into blue cotton briefs, then donned the slacks and sweater. Finally, he pulled on a pair of dark blue cashmere socks, then slipped into Gucci loafers. He examined himself in the mirror.
He thought about Jack Frost. He had watched the way the bigger man walked and carried himself. He was every inch a deadly fighter, a foe to be wary of—and respect. He would not be easy to kill.
He thought carefully about his own unique abilities, and compared them as best he could to the impressive skills described in Frost’s thick dossier. After thinking it through, he came to the conclusion that he was still better than Frost, and he did not believe that vanity entered into it at all.
A few minutes later, Red Sleeves stood in Varchetta’s private elevator as it sank toward the main floor. When the door opened he stepped into the hallway and strolled casually toward the casino.
It was crowded for mid-morning. Red Sleeves drifted past a long row of tables, receiving occasional respectful nods from pit employees. He was well aware that they knew of his reputation. He was a ruthless hunter of men, an enforcer, a man who committed himself to just one employer at a time—as long as that arrangement was advantageous to James Red Sleeves. And that was why his employers had always gone out of their way to be sure that he received the best cars, the best women, the best accommodations, and the best fee. He was a man worth his shocking price tag.
A short, heavyset pit boss caught his eye. Red Sleeves walked toward him. “Good morning, Mr. Red Sleeves,” the man said. “Mr. Varchetta just called. He sounded upset. He requested that you please give him a call as soon as possible.”
Red Sleeves nodded. He loved the way the older man deferred to him. No one but Varchetta ever called him by his first name. It was always “Mr. Red Sleeves,” which was exactly what he preferred.
He took out his cell phone and punched a speed dial number. A few moments later he was talking to a nervous, excited Varchetta. “She’s gone! Gone! You understand what I’m saying?”
“Of course I do,” Red Sleeves said calmly.
“I don’t have to tell you how important it is to get her back safely, do I?”
“Of course not.”
“She’s obviously gone to find Frost.”
“Obviously.”
“You know where he lives?”
“Yes.”
“You do?”
“I’ve known since the day he moved to Las Vegas,” Red Sleeves said. “I’ll take care of it.”
Red Sleeves walked through the rear exit of the casino. An attendant glanced at him and nodded, then immediately sprinted toward the parking garage. Red Sleeves stood there for the briefest time before the red Ferrari was brought to him. The young man jumped out and held the door, for which he received a hundred dollar tip.
Red Sleeves pulled on to the Strip. The engine made a beautiful moaning sound as he accelerated up through the gears. He had acquired the exotic machine after it had won the Twenty-Four Hours of Daytona and been retired as a GT racing car. It had cost a small fortune, and he had spent another fortune rebuilding it from the ground up. In his opinion, it was one of the finest Ferraris ever built.
Red Sleeves smiled as he recognized the tingle of anticipation in his stomach. He felt alive, and he knew he would feel even more alive as the danger increased.
* * *
Red Sleeves parked near the main entrance of the sprawling Boulevard mall on Maryland Parkway. When he got out of the Ferrari, he felt the withering heat rising from the concrete. He walked through the mall entrance into the cool air, and eased through the throng of shoppers until he finally stood in front of Harris’ Shop for Men. He stared through the glass, searching the crowded interior of the store. Finally, he spotted Susan’s mane of chestnut hair bobbing up and down as she animatedly talked with a customer.
Satisfied, Red Sleeves turned on his heel and walked away. He pulled out his cell phone and punched in a phone number. The store manager answered, “Harris’ Shop for Men, may I help you?” Red Sleeves asked for Susan Harris. “One moment, please,” the man said.
A moment later: “Susan Harris.”
Red Sleeves disguised his voice and said, “Ms. Harris, my name is Dr. Dwight Anderson, Chief Neurosurgeon at Sunrise Hospital.”
He heard the sharp intake of air at the other end of the line. “What’s happened?”
“We have a patient here by the name of Jack Frost who is suffering from severe head trauma. He regained consciousness just long enough to ask for you and give us your number, then he lapsed into a coma.”
“Oh my God! Is he going to die?”
“I can’t say more at this time, Ms. Harris. Just ask for me at the information desk. I’ll send someone down to take you up to my office.”
“Doctor! Was anyone else with Jack?”
“Well, yes there was, in fact. A young woman.”
“Is she hurt, too?”
Red Sleeves paused theatrically before answering. “I’m afraid she is dead, Ms. Harris.”
“Oh, God . . . I’ll be right there.”
Red Sleeves headed for the nearest exit and waited in the heat. When Susan appeared, he reached out and touched her arm. “Ms. Harris,” he said.
Susan turned and stared at him. “Red Sleeves—”
“—Dr. Dwight Anderson, at your service,” the Indian interrupted with a wry smile. He could tell that she was contemplating running. “I have Jack Frost, Ms. Harris. If we don’t arrive where he is being held in exactly one hour, he’ll be killed. Now please, we must go.”
Susan went with him without another word. “Where is he?” she asked, as they got into the Ferrari. “Is he hurt?”
Red Sleeves smiled. “Not yet.”
Her eyes were wide with anger, but even that could not mask the fear on her face. “What about Tina?”
“Obviously, Ms. Harris, you must know that she’s all right. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to her, now would I?”
“What are you going to do?”
“That depends on you.”
Red Sleeves drove down Maryland Parkway to Flamingo Road, where he turned left and started across town toward Boulder Highway. He ignored Susan’s further questioning as he expertly threaded his way through traffic. Turning right on Boulder Highway, he drove through the thick yellow murk that hung over the city of Henderson, then into the desert beyond.
Twenty minutes later they arrived at the outskirts of the sleepy little town of Boulder City, which sat on a high hill overlooking Lake Mead. Red Sleeves drove slowly through town, then took the winding road that led to the sparkling lake below. As he neared the bottom of the hill, he turned off on a narrow dirt road, and drove for several miles without speaking.
Red Sleeves adjusted the elaborate radio to a station playing soft classical music. He sat back and relaxed as if he were traveling on a freeway system. The Ferrari hurtled down the dirt road at an alarming pace. Red Sleeves smiled as he glanced down at Susan’s hands, clasped together in her lap. “Relax, Ms. Harris, this car is quite capable of handling this road, and so am I.”
“I’m not worried about this road, or your driving. I’m worried about Jack, you bastard!”
“Well, in case you are worried about your own safety, please let me assure you that nothing will happen to you—unless, of course, Frost refuses to cooperate. If he will not hand over Tina, I will have no choice but to turn my attention to you. You do understand that it’s nothing personal.”
Susan did not reply. She was too frightened to trust her own voice.
Moments later, Red Sleeves pulled off the dirt road and parked on a grassy knoll overlooking the lake. He got out of the car and walked around and opened her door.
“Ever the gentleman, aren’t you!” she said, her eyes blazing. She followed him along a narrow path leading to the water, where a sleek blue and white speedboat was tied to a private dock.
As she began to follow him across a narrow catwalk, she momentarily lost her balance. She was astounded when Red Sleeves whirled and caught her. She could not imagine how he had known, since his back had been to her. Angry with herself, she shook his hand away.
