Assignment Vegas: The Case of the Athlete's Assassin: Jae Lovejoy Cozy Mystery Two (Jae Lovejoy Cozy Mysteries Book 2)

by Lucey Phillips

  “Here’s a prescription for Augmentin—an antibiotic. Your wound is pretty deep and who knows what kind of bacteria is in that lagoon, so they wanted you to have this to prevent infection.”

  I nodded and took the prescription.

  “And this one is for Vicodin,” the nurse said, holding up the other slip of paper. “You’re going to be pretty sore after all this. You can take one tablet every six hours as needed. No driving or alcohol when you’re taking this.”

  She held the slip out toward me, but I pulled my hand away.

  “It’s a narcotic?” I asked.

  “Yes, it might cause some drowsiness,” she said. She set the paper back onto her clip board, waiting for me to decide.

  “No thanks,” I said. “I’ll just take Tylenol or something.”

  The nurse flipped up a paper on her clip board, looked at it, then back at me. “Are you sure you don’t want the script just in case? You might be feeling pretty rough tomorrow and change your mind.”

  I shook my head.

  “Come on Jae, we all know you’re tough—don’t be a hero,” Jacob said.

  Both the nurse and Colin looked at him while a silent moment passed.

  “She’s not trying to be a hero. She just doesn’t want it,” Colin said.

  The nurse turned back toward me. “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “I’m sure.”

  “Ok,” she said, tearing up the prescription and dropping the pieces into a red plastic sharps box. “You can take Tylenol or ibuprofen or naproxen. They’re all over the counter. Just follow the directions on the package.”

  She handed me a form to sign and asked if I wanted help out in a wheelchair. But I wanted to walk.

  The two men stood on either side of me for my first few tenuous steps. I crossed the room slowly to pick up my clothes. They both left while I dressed, which seemed to take forever because my clothes were still damp. My neck, back, and leg were all sore. My right shoulder ached too. Maybe I’d strained it swimming.

  Finally, we left the hospital. Jacob had offered to drive Colin and I back to Currents. He’d said he needed to go there anyway. When he didn’t explain why—what he was investigating—I didn’t ask.

  I asked to sit in the back seat of Jacob’s unmarked car. I used the pretense of wanting to stretch out my leg, prop it up on the seat. But really, I needed space. I felt beyond tired—so wrung out and empty—that I doubted I could make coherent conversation. I didn’t want to anyway.

  I climbed in, leaned my back against a door, and stared out through the back window. It was peak party hours on the strip. Shows were letting out and clubs were filling up. The spectrum of animated LED and neon lighting looked like something out of a movie.

  And that only reinforced the sense of detachment I was feeling.

  When we got to Currents, Colin went with me to the check-in desk to try to get a new key. Mine was in my bag, which was, presumably, still lying at the bottom of the lagoon.

  When Colin told a woman at the desk my name, she nodded and picked up her phone. “Miss Lovejoy is here,” she said. Then she hung up the phone and told us, “Roger is on his way. He’ll walk you to your room and give you your key.”

  Colin raised his eyebrows at me when a man in a gray suit and tie introduced himself to us as Roger. I recognized him immediately. He was one of the men I’d seen leaving Mike’s hospital room.

  I gave Colin a small nod of my chin. We knew what he was now—a fixer. Or, in professional terms, a risk management specialist. He was here to butter me up and try to prevent me from suing the resort. He probably had a waiver in his pocket for me to sign.

  Technically, I was working when the attack happened, so my employer would be the only one who could sign a waiver. And I knew ANA wouldn’t do that. After my last incident in Denver, they’d probably already started seeing me as a liability.

  On the other hand, my first-person account of that situation had attracted a lot of new readers. There was apparently a surge in subscribers after that story went live.

  On the elevator, Roger politely inquired about my injuries and asked how I was feeling. He offered to personally take my prescription to get it filled—a gesture that caused Colin to roll his eyes behind the man’s back.

  Too tired to hide my emotions, I openly giggled and told Roger no thank you—I could take care of it.

  Colin stayed with me as we walked past his room and toward mine. Roger unlocked my door, handed the key card to me, and held the door open for Colin and I.

  There were two room service carts inside, both dressed with table cloths. One had my messenger bag on it. The contents were spread out neatly. Everything looked dry and tidy. The bag had obviously been washed and maybe even ironed.

  My phone, which I’d dropped on the stone walkway and assumed was lost forever, sat beside the bag. One corner of the screen was chipped, but otherwise it was shiny and clean. I pressed the button, and the screen lit up just like always. I smiled at Colin, then at Roger.

  “We pride ourselves on our guest services. And you’re not the first person who’s had something valuable end up in the water. Our staff has a knack for cleaning and drying all kinds of materials,” Roger said.

  “Thank you,” I said softly. I knew it wasn’t Currents’ fault that Marilla was after me.

  I pointed at the other cart. “What’s that?”

  There were several dish covers, coffee, water, napkins, and utensils.

  Roger picked up a slip of paper from one end of the table.

  “Chicken noodle soup, a fruit plate, spaghetti and meatballs, and a couple desserts,” Roger read from the paper. “We didn’t know what you’d like, so I asked him to send up some comfort food.”

  “That’s nice. Thanks,” I said.

  Even though I knew it was a calculated move to stay on my good side, it still seemed like a thoughtful gesture.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you?” he asked.

  “I just need to get a shower and go to bed,” I said.

  My energy had been completely drained a long time ago and I just needed this stranger to get out of my hotel room.

  Roger gave me his card, said goodbye, and left.

  Then it was just me and Colin standing in my hotel room. I realized I didn’t want him to leave.

  “Are you hungry? I’ll never eat all of this. You should have some,” I said.

  “No thanks,” he said softly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “It’s late, I guess I should go?”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you want me to stay with you? Just because—I don’t know—if I’d been through what you just went through, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t want to be alone right now.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Aren’t you tired, though?”

  He laughed. “No. I’m kind of perked up from that nervous energy I got when they called to tell me what happened to you,” he said. “I think I should just hang out, till you’re ready for bed, maybe?”

  “Only if you promise to eat something,” I said.

  “Okay.”

  Colin smiled. He reached toward a piece of hot fudge cake.

  I took a T-shirt and a pair of pajama pants into the bathroom with me.

  When I stepped into the shower, the hot water felt good on my tired, aching body. But the sight of the sutures on my leg made my stomach surge with nausea and a vague sense of regret.

  I hadn’t asked to be attacked, but I had a creeping sensation that if I’d done something differently, it might not have happened at all. I tried to ignore it, but every time I saw the shock of black nylon thread knotted against my pale skin, that sickening feeling returned.

  I was nervous about washing that part of my leg, but when I touched it with the soapy washcloth, it didn’t hurt. It still felt thick and numb from the lidocaine injections.

  When I came out of the bathroom, Colin was stretched out on the couch with his eyes closed. One arm rested above his head, and the other was on
his lower chest, rising and falling with his breath.

  The television was turned to 24-hour news. I sat on the edge of my bed, near the room service cart, and took the round covering off of the bowl of soup. I wasn’t hungry, but I knew if I didn’t eat a little bit, my growling stomach would wake me up sometime during the night. The soup was warm and tasted good.

  The television showed red-faced politicians barking at each other. I changed the channel to sitcom reruns.

  I finished eating and brushed my teeth. I looked over at Colin. He would definitely be more comfortable in an actual bed, in his own room, but I didn’t want to wake him. That seemed rude and awkward.

  Besides, having someone I trust in my room with me felt good on a night like this. I turned off the lights, lowered the volume on the television, and climbed under the covers.

  | Seventeen

  My phone began ringing at dawn. When I reached for it, a jolt of pain radiated through my neck and shoulders.

  “Hello?” I said through gritted teeth, fighting the pain.

  “Jae! Are you okay? What’s going on there?” It was Lance, my editor.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Some guy from Currents called our GM. They’re scared out of their minds we’re going to report on this—this situation,” Lance said. His tone was vacillating between concern and irritation. “How did this happen?”

  I wanted to downplay everything and reassure Lance that my story would get done without any complications. But I knew I couldn’t pull that off, especially after what had happened the night before.

  So I told him everything.

  “At first, I thought all these little accidents with McKenna might be just bad luck and weird coincidences, but once those pictures showed up in her dressing room, we knew something was going on,” I said to Lance after I’d told him about the hot tub incident and the car accident.

  “Wait. I’m confused,” Lance said. “You think Marcos Marilla is after you and McKenna? Why McKenna?”

  “Because she might know something. They were sort of in the same social circle,” I said.

  “But the police think Marilla doesn’t have anything to do with McKenna—the threats are coming from someone else?”

  “Yeah,” I said. I heard the defeat in my own voice. “McKenna thinks it’s a jealous ex-girlfriend. And then we’re not totally sure about her understudy, Poppy. I don’t think it’s her though. She has an alibi. I was going to do a sidebar on her …”

  “Okay,” Lance said, blowing out a deep sigh. “The GM is really worried about your safety—especially after what happened in Denver. He wants you to wrap this up and get out of Vegas.”

  “What about writing a news story about all this stuff—like I did in Denver?”

  “It’s too unsubstantiated at this point,” Lance said. “Just finish your normal travel story and then get on a plane to Austin.”

  “Okay,” I said quietly. “I’m going to be backstage for tonight’s show. I wanted to spend a little more time with McKenna, but I guess I have enough for a story. Maybe I can do one last interview this morning—I still feel like something’s missing, you know? I haven’t gotten to the center of how she actually turned things around.”

  “That’s fine. But I want you and Colin on a plane out of there first thing tomorrow morning,” Lance said.

  He cleared his throat. “And Jae, there’s one more thing I need to talk to you about. It’s your mom.”

  “What?” My hands had started trembling.

  “Well, I know she called here a couple times… I pulled your file from Human Resources when I heard you might be hurt. I was looking for an emergency contact in case we needed to get a hold of your family. There isn’t anyone listed.”

  I opened my mouth to explain, but my throat was completely dry. I couldn’t think of anything to say.

  “Whatever the situation is with your mom—I know it’s personal—we just need to know where you stand. If you don’t want ANA to give her any information—including your location—then that’s what we’ll do.”

  His voice was deliberate and calm.

  My eyes welled with tears in response to his empathetic tone.

  I swallowed hard, hoping to steady my voice. “I’ve been trying to, sort of, cut ties with her. She has some, well, a drinking problem. And I try to keep my contact with her to a minimum. I’m sorry she’s been calling. I told her not to do that.”

  “There’s nothing to apologize for, Jae. I just need to know your wishes. We can put a note in your file that she’s not to receive any information about you. We’ve done that before—it actually comes up more than you’d think with divorces, legal issues, lots of stuff.”

  “Okay, then yeah, just put me down for no contact with her.”

  My voice broke at the end of my statement and I started to cry. I pressed my free hand over my mouth. Lance was silent for a moment.

  Finally, he asked, “Is there anything we can do to help you?”

  “I’ll be okay,” I said with a shaky voice. “I just need to get this story done.”

  I expected Lance to push the “emergency contact” issue, but he didn’t say anything else about it. That was a small relief. I really couldn’t think of any names to give him for an emergency contact.

  Before we said goodbye, I assured him again that I’d be careful and would be on my way to Austin the next morning.

  I dropped the phone onto the pillow beside me and held my palms over my eyes. Every time my mother’s problems forced their way into my life, it was upsetting. But it was even worse when my job was affected.

  I cried from anger at my mom—this problem that never seemed to go away. And I cried out of relief, too. Lance’s kindness, his gentle approach, was a surprise.

  I still had my hands over my eyes when I felt a shift in weight on the bed.

  “You okay?” Colin asked.

  I’d forgotten that he was sleeping on the couch. I guess I’d expected him to go back to his room some time during the night.

  “I’m okay,” I said. My voice was in full-on crying mode. I sounded pitiful.

  I was curled up on my side, facing the wall. My back was to Colin. When I felt his hand resting gently on my shoulder, a new wave of tears took over me. The bed rocked just slightly: he was lying down beside me now.

  He kept a hand on my shoulder and said nothing. I gave up trying to force my crying to stop. Finally though, after a few minutes, it lost momentum and my breathing returned to normal, except for a few sniffles.

  “Thanks Colin,” I said into my pillow. “And thanks for staying with me.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said. His voice had a sleepy raspyness.

  The bed rocked again. It felt like he’d moved a little closer to me, or maybe he just shifted his weight. His hand was still a reassuring warmth on my shoulder. My eyelids felt full and heavy now, probably swollen from crying, and I allowed them to drift closed.

  When I woke up, the room was brighter and Colin was still beside me. I felt a lot better. I climbed out of bed to go to the bathroom. Before I left the room, I looked back at Colin. He smiled up at me. He’d been awake.

  “Did I snore?” I asked.

  He shook his head. His smile was serene.

  When I came back from the bathroom, Colin was stepping into his shoes.

  “I’m going to grab a shower,” he said. “Are you hungry? I was thinking of getting breakfast after I get dressed and stuff.”

  “Sure. I really need some coffee, too.”

  “Okay. I’ll come get you in half an hour. Oh—how’s your leg?”

  I shrugged. “A little sore—not bad.”

  “Okay. See ya,” he said.

  “Thanks Colin.” I wanted to smile at him, but ended up glancing away, toward the window.

  “Sure.” Colin gave me another serene smile before he left.

  As soon as he was gone, I flipped the bolt on my door and grabbed my phone to call Quinn.


  “What’s up, woman? You still in Vegas?” she asked me after we said hello.

  “Yeah. We’re leaving for Austin tomorrow,” I said. I told her all about what had happened to me the night before and about the threatening photographs McKenna had found in her dressing room.

  “So this is for real, huh?” Quinn asked.

  “Yeah. She’s staying here, at Currents, now. The detective thinks my attack last night was because of Marilla, but he thinks it’s someone different going after McKenna.”

  “What do you think?” Quinn asked.

  “I don’t know. I think Marilla might be responsible for everything. I spent some time with Poppy the other day. And I talked to Anne, too. She’s not really a friendly gal, but neither of them seem like the killer type. Plus Poppy has an alibi.”

  “Let me look them up again.” Quinn said. “What else is going on?”

  I laughed nervously. “I have a question for you: Do you think I would, I don’t know, get in trouble with ANA if Colin and I were, like, involved?”

  Quinn shrieked. “Get! Out! What happened?”

  “Nothing,” I said, unable to contain a childish giggle. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s something. Maybe it’s just friend stuff.”

  “Tell me everything,” she demanded.

  And I did.

  “Aww Jae, that is so sweet,” Quinn said after I told her about Colin spending the night in my room with me and then laying down beside me when I was upset. “Now, when are you going to rip his clothes off?”

  “Maybe he was just being a good friend.”

  “You two cuddled. Are you actually going to try to tell me there’s not romantic feelings there?” Quinn asked. “Aren’t you attracted to him?”

  I thought about Colin’s lean frame and unassuming mannerisms. They were the perfect reflection of his quiet, accepting personality.

  “Well, yeah,” I said.

  “And you think about him when you’re not together? You wish you were with him when you’re apart?”

  I smiled. “Sometimes.”

  I knew, if she was really listening, Quinn would be able to perceive the smile in my voice.