Lucky Break

by Deborah Coonts

  I shrugged away from Romeo. As I talked, I worked my way across the room, my eyes on the last man to speak with my father. Images, panic washed over me. My father turning, falling. I pushed the horror aside and tried to focus.

  A man stepped into my path with his hand outstretched, stopping me. His size and the murderous look on his face would’ve been enough. “You can’t talk with him.”

  Romeo, lurking behind me, flashed his badge. “Maybe she can’t, but I damn well can.”

  “No, sir.” The man-mountain shook his leonine head. “He doesn’t have to talk to anybody—not until you’re cleared through diplomatic channels.”

  Romeo glanced at me. I shrugged at his silent question. “Diplomatic channels?” he asked.

  “Mr. Cho is a diplomatic attaché for the Chinese government.”

  “And he’s in Vegas, why?” I said, preempting Romeo.

  “To protect China’s gaming interests.” The man glanced over his shoulder. “But that’s all I can say. It’s common knowledge.”

  I could quibble—nobody had told me about a diplomat in the house, and that normally would be my responsibility. I’d love to know exactly why he was here and an answer to the larger question: why was he flying under the radar? If I hadn’t been alerted, then nobody had been.

  Curious. Cho was a common name in China, but the coincidence was too obvious to ignore. Mr. Cho. Kimberly Cho.

  I needed to find that girl. So many questions.

  Kimberly had recognized the shooter at the party and then again today. Was the shooter somehow connected to Mr. Chinese Big Shot? Were the three of them connected? If the diplomat, Mr. Cho, was the shooter’s puppeteer, then there wasn’t a law in the Universe that would stop me.

  Maybe I couldn’t save my father, but I sure as hell could kill whoever shot him.

  I hated hospitals. The smell alone unsettled my stomach, already tightened by fear. No matter how much Pine Sol, the stench of death and fear permeated the air. A protective disinterest dulled the staff’s smiles. Hope and magic were my daily companions; death and despair, punctured by a few moments of joy, were theirs. Working here would shave my soul to nothing.

  UMC, University Medical Center, was the best in Vegas at dealing with medical emergencies. That didn’t make me happy to be here.

  In fact, right now, I wanted to be anywhere else, worrying about anything else. A murder, even. That I could fix. This? Not so much. And if there’s anything I hate, it’s feeling helpless and powerless.

  My only companion in the surgical waiting area was a young man with one tennis shoe, a misbuttoned shirt, and no belt to hold up pants that were at least three sizes too big. Lounging in a molded chair, his legs outstretched, he’d fallen asleep or passed out, his fist pressed to his face the only thing keeping him semi-upright.

  Thankfully, the television hanging high in the corner was silent, its screen dark. To me, good television was an oxymoron, excepting the first four seasons of West Wing, of course.

  Five cups of bad coffee had my nerves jangling and my teeth on edge when Mona rushed into the room. Her hair a mess, her face swollen with worry, her eyes brimming with unspent tears. In a pair of yoga pants and a tunic top, with ballet slippers, she lost her momentum when she stepped through the doors. When she caught sight of me, she wavered. I rushed to her. As her knees buckled, I caught her, easing her into a chair.

  She held onto me tightly for a bit, until her composure resettled. Easing away, she curled back into the chair. “My God, Lucky! What happened?” She rooted in her bag for a tissue.

  I handed her one of mine. “He was shot.” Images raced through my head—my father falling, blood, everywhere blood, his pale face, no response. I squeezed my eyes shut, but I couldn’t make them go away. I held up my hands, the blood long ago washed away, the stain remaining, a bad Shakespearean joke. A desperate need for revenge kept me from falling apart. “He’s in surgery. They said he’d lost a lot of blood.”

  “His heart,” Mona whispered. The Big Boss had almost died of a heart condition a few months ago. Teddie had been there to hold me, to help both Mona and me through it. Now we were all fighting for our lives, literally, metaphorically, and figuratively. While the outcome might be different for each, the pain was the same.

  The world could turn on a dime. One of the Big Boss’s favorite sayings. Funny how it was his life that took that turn, holding the future hostage.

  “They know about his heart. Dr. Knapp is here. He’s monitoring everything. Says the surgeon is the best.”

  Mona dabbed at her eyes. “The babies. They can’t grow up without a father.”

  “The babies? Hell, I can’t grow up without my father either.” I lowered myself into the chair next to hers and took her hand in mine. Her skin, pale and blue, cold to the touch. I lightly brushed at a dusting of Baby Powder on her cheek then, tucked a wayward tendril behind her ear. “He has a lot to live for. You know what a scrapper he is.”

  Jean-Charles pushed through the door, his face tense. A quick scan of the waiting room, then his eyes settled on me. His tension easing, he strode toward me. I rose, stepping into his hug. As he held me, I breathed him in. My world righted. Oh, I still wanted to be left in the desert someplace remote with the killer, a weapon, no witnesses, and a shovel, but it didn’t have to be now. Tomorrow would do.

  “And you are okay?” Jean-Charles spoke softly as he stroked my hair and held me close. Our bodies pressed together, his heat warming the cold snaking through my gut.

  I could feel him shaking. “Better now.”

  “Your father?” His voice broke. He cleared his throat.

  “No word yet.”

  “Hospitals, they are not good, non?”

  “No, not good. But sometimes necessary.” I raised my head off his shoulder and pressed my cheek to his. “Where is Christophe?”

  “I am late to see you because I had to take him home. I could not bear to see him in a place like this. So much loss, it breaks the heart.” His pain, though diminished by time, still vibrated under the surface. “You never forget. You find a way to live again, but it is there always.”

  “Of course.”

  He hugged me tight again. And yes, he was shivering. This was hard. Harder than he let on. “I could not lose like that again.”

  “Life, we don’t call the shots.”

  “I do. As best I can.”

  I didn’t want to tell him that was a recipe for heartbreak. The illusion of control could set you up for an even bigger fall. I should know. I’m the poster child for major crashes.

  “What have the doctors said?” he asked, his face pale, his eyes haunted as if reliving his past. His wife. Death.

  “They rushed my father into surgery. A nurse stepped out a bit ago and told me it would be awhile. And even after the surgeons are done, Father will be in recovery for a good bit. While they bring him back, she didn’t think we’d be allowed to see him, but I’m not sure.”

  He included Mona in his look. “You both should let me take you home.”

  Mona shook her head. “No, I will be here when he wakes up.”

  Home. I so wanted to go home, to go back in time and start this day all over again. No, yesterday. If I could do it over. Maybe, just maybe, it would be different. “If I’d just listened to him.”

  “To whom? Theodore?”

  “My father. He told me Irv Gittings would come after me … that I could’ve handled.”

  “But you don’t know.”

  “Oh, this has Ol’ Irv’s fingerprints all over it,” Mona joined the conversation, her voice lethal.

  I’d forgotten about her. Something that, before now, I’d thought impossible. She was like a rabid dog, able to kill with a small bite. That got me thinking.

  She wilted under my stare. “What?”

  “You and me. We got a murderer to put back in jail.”

  “Really?” She brightened a touch, the flush of revenge pinking her pale cheeks.

  “You’
re going to be my secret weapon.” She looked like the governor had commuted her sentence one second before midnight, which made me feel bad. We used to be the Two Musketeers. Adulthood … mine … had gotten in the way. Not a proud moment.

  “You both are not going to do anything.” Jean-Charles ordered. “You will leave this to the police.”

  Behind his back, Mona winked at me, a tear-filled, still terrified wink, but she was made of stern stuff, and she was a Rothstein, even if only by marriage.

  The Rothsteins were Old Vegas—you fuck with family, we fuck with you.

  The automatic double doors whooshed open, admitting Dr. Knapp in scrubs and surgical booties, a sobering shot of ice water through the veins. He swiped the surgical head cover off, leaving his white hair standing in tufts in spots and flattened in others. Every one of his sixty-odd years showed in his creased face, his slumped shoulders, and his tired smile. He eased down next to Mona, taking her hand. I hadn’t thought she could get any paler. I was wrong.

  Jean-Charles pulled me tight. I wrapped my arms around his waist and braced for the blow.

  “He’s one tough cuss,” Dr. Knapp started.

  Mona smiled, ignoring the tear that trickled down her cheek.

  “And he must’ve done something right. There were so many things that could’ve gone wrong had they been slightly different. The bullet nicked … ” At Mona’s stricken look, he redirected and started again. “We were very lucky. If Dr. Ellis hadn’t been assisting ...” He patted Mona’s hand. “But we don’t have to worry about the what-ifs. Albert has a long road, but he’s tough.”

  “He’s okay, then?” Mona’s voice, soft yet tight, hoping yet not quite willing to believe.

  “Resting right now. Coming out of it.”

  Mona grasped his hand in both of hers. “Thank you.”

  “Not me. Dr. Ellis. Man, that guy has seen some stuff. He had some work-arounds that saved a lot of time and probably saved your husband. Such luck he was here.”

  Lucky indeed. Life. Miss P’s past, my father’s future … funny the synergy of life, the odd connections that make such a difference.

  I was mentally trotting down the what-if-alley when the doors whooshed open again, this time expelling the doctor from the hotel, Dr. Ellis … Cody.

  Disengaging from Jean-Charles, I met Cody halfway. “I have no idea what to say.”

  “It’s what I do, and this is why I do it.”

  His hand was warm, his smile relaxed. Tallish, he met me eye-to-eye, thin, with weathered skin and old eyes that reeked of adventures in faraway places. He exuded a quiet confidence that instilled a peace of mind. A rational thought in an incomprehensible situation.

  No wonder Miss P had married him.

  Miss P. As if on cue, she rushed in through the glass doors, cool air with a hint of rain sneaking in with her. She momentarily hitched when she caught sight of Cody, but then she motored over to me. “Your father?”

  I deferred to Dr. Ellis.

  Cody’s eyes lit, but his smile dimmed when he looked at her, a sadness lingering under his carefully constructed expression. “He’s in recovery. Probably a few days in ICU, but that depends on him. After that, we’ll see, but he should be home by Christmas.”

  Miss P fisted a hand at her chest. “Oh, Cody, I’m so glad you were here.” She looked bright, radiant, conflicted.

  Her husband walked on water, or darn near, and the man I had thought would be mine was cooling his heels in jail. Somehow, I was happier with my problems than hers.

  Life.

  Standing between the two of them, I decided self-preservation dictated retreat. “Can we see him?”

  Dr. Ellis nodded toward Dr. Knapp, who said, “For a few minutes. He’ll be sleeping for awhile yet, and then we’ll keep him comfortable, so he’ll be in and out, probably won’t even know you’re there.”

  Mona rose, tugging her tunic into place. “Whether he knows it or not, we will be there.”

  “Only one of you can stay at a time.”

  Mona cast worried eyes at me.

  “I’ll go in with you, Mother, but you should be the one to stay.”

  Relief softened her fear. “When you go, would you mind stopping to check on the twins?”

  Jean-Charles folded the paper he’d been reading and rose to greet me when I stepped back into the waiting area. He was alone, except for Dane’s man who sat near the door, leaving enough distance for privacy, but not so much he couldn’t solve an issue if it arose. I hadn’t noticed him before, but I was glad he was tailing my chef.

  “Where are Miss P and Dr. Ellis?” I asked, trying to find my equilibrium. Seeing my father immobile, lacking a vital life force I’d taken for granted, hooked to machines to feed him, breathe for him, had shaken my foundation.

  “They went to the cafeteria. Dr. Ellis wanted to stay close.”

  “Nice guy.” Not knowing what to say and what to leave out. Not knowing whether I had the energy to explain even part of Miss P and Cody Ellis, I stopped there.

  “Perhaps I shouldn’t say anything, especially considering the wedding upcoming, but there is something between them.”

  “You have no idea.” Needing his touch, the connection, I reached out and stroked his cheek. “But theirs is not my story to tell. Thank you for waiting. You didn’t have to.”

  “But I did.” He folded me into his arms and held me tight against this chest.

  The tears I hadn’t allowed myself threatened to spill. The fear past, the terror over, I’d let my guard down. The sleeve of my sweater, pulled over the heel of my hand, absorbed the tears before they could run unchecked.

  Jean-Charles pulled a pocket square out of his jacket pocket, shook it out, and dabbed at the ones that escaped. “The last two days … ”

  “Tell me about it.” I eased back, but not so far that I couldn’t feel his warmth, his love. For some odd reason, I was comfortable being myself with him. Just me. And something about him told me that was enough. “Let’s do something fun, something life-affirming for a change.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “What do you have in mind?”

  “How are you with twins?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  FLASH pounced the minute I stepped into the lobby at the Babylon. From past experience I knew I couldn’t outrun her; tonight I didn’t even try. As she began peppering me with questions, my phone rang. Romeo. I opened my arms in supplication toward Jean-Charles. “You’d think I could have a life.”

  He chuckled and leaned in for a quick kiss. “You do have a very nice life. A very nice and crazy life. I’ll be in the Burger Palais. Call me when you want to check on the twins for your mother.” He charged off with his security detail of one in tow. He pulled the man next to him and started chatting away—my chef, a master promoter, never knew a stranger. A cloud passed over that happy thought. Some strangers could be not so nice.

  I watched Jean-Charles as he walked with purpose toward the entrance to the Bazaar. Many heads turned as he strode by. I could tell he was aware of the attention and indifferent to it. I wasn’t so sure I was. Switching to work mode, I scanned the lobby, looking for problems to fix, as I pressed the phone to my ear. Stalling Flash mid-question with a raised finger, I handled Romeo first. “I sure hope you have some good news,” I said to Romeo, dispensing with the niceties.

  “I’m the one hoping for good news.” Romeo sounded as tired as I felt. “How’s your father?”

  A young couple made it through the front doors, burdened with luggage and tugging more. I tapped a bellman on the shoulder. “Move. Go help them.” He glanced at me, then bolted as if shot out of a cannon.

  “Move where? Help who?” Romeo asked, but his heart didn’t sound in it.

  “Not talking to you.”

  “Permanently or just right now?”

  Whistling, I caught the attention of a Champagne server who had stopped moving. I circled my forefinger. She got the hint and returned to working the growing line in front of Registration
.

  “Dang,” I said to no one in particular. I made a beeline for the Front Desk.

  Flash dogged my heels trying to get a word in. “I’ve got some info for you, if you have a minute, but not here.” She sounded proud of herself, which got my attention. I measured the problem in front of me and the one I still held to my ear. “Give me five to ten?” I said to Flash.

  She seemed okay with that. She pointed to the side. “I’ll be over there.” I nodded and reengaged Romeo. “Sorry. Just walked into the lobby. A few things needed my attention.”

  “Using your job to hide from life. I know the drill. Your father?”

  “My job is my life.” Even I felt sorry for myself. Apparently, my act didn’t fool Romeo. Not sure how I felt about that. Seems there were a lot of things in my life I was conflicted about. “Why can’t life just settle into a nice rhythm?”

  “Then you’d be bored.” Fumbling sounds like he switched his phone from one ear to the next. “Are you going to tell me about your father, or do I have to call the hospital and pull rank?”

  “In ICU. He made it through the surgery. Now Mona will make sure he makes it through recovery.”

  “Oh, boy, I don’t envy him. She’s probably really good at cracking a whip.” Romeo chuckled.

  “I’m not sure I can envision my mother as you seem to be and not be scarred for life.” Mona terrified him, which I thought cute. And her former job as a hooker and a madam had captured his imagination.

  Having been raised in her whorehouse in Pahrump, I was pretty much over it. The only time it really caused me any trouble had been on take-your-kid-to-work day, and the day Mona realized I was well past puberty. That was the day that I became me. Keeping the family affiliation to herself, she’d sent me to the Big Boss, and I jumped on the treadmill that now was moving too fast for my meager skills.

  “Her bite is worse than her bark,” I said, unable to resist adding fuel to his fire. “But really, although a major pain in the ass, she’s pretty harmless.”