by Jami Denise
There was only one person left I could turn to, and it wasn’t ideal. Options were low, so in desperation, I hailed a cab and gave the man orders to drive me to the Tropicana.
SEVENTEEN
Eleanor was a beautiful woman in her mid-fifties with an overdone hairstyle and tacky wardrobe. She’d been a showgirl in her younger days, and far more gorgeous than any movie star I’d ever seen.
She was also my stepmother.
The marriage only lasted eight months, but she was good to us. My father fucked it up, as he did with everything else, but she continued to be a constant in my life. Even through my rebellious teen years, she never gave up on me. She’d been the one to get me my first dancing gig, and even though she hadn’t been crazy about the idea, she knew it was that, or I would’ve ended up in bigger trouble.
Which I did anyway.
She never remarried. She was still in love with my dad, and I always felt sorry for her. She just couldn’t deal with his antics. He’d wooed her with promises, promises he never intended to keep. She fell for his handsome face and his drop-dead smile. The money didn’t hurt, but once she realized he was a hustler, she wanted out.
The cab pulled up in front of the familiar casino and I leaned forward, asking the driver to wait.
He was probably scared out of his mind, seeing that I was hysterical and covered in blood, so he nodded, keeping his eyes straight ahead.
I ran to the door and continued through the casino to the elevators, riding it up as quickly as it would take me. As soon as I was on her floor, I flew toward her room and began knocking like a lunatic and screaming her name. The door swung open and I fell against her.
She hesitated for a moment until she realized who it was, then pulled me tightly against her.
“Janie… what’s going on?”
I looked up at her with tear streaked cheeks and bloodshot eyes. “It’s Daddy. He’s… he’s…”
“Oh God.”
I felt her shake and the tears fell harder, faster. In her arms, I felt safe, comfortable enough to let it out and let go. She understood. She felt it, too.
She pulled back, wiped at the moisture in her eyes, and cleared her throat. “What’s going on, Janie? What happened?”
I shook my head, the answers spinning around with nowhere to go. Where did I start? How could I explain what occurred? It all sounded so unbelievable, like a tacky B-movie. My reality had officially become stranger than fiction.
She could see the stress in my features and waved me into the other room. “Come on, honey. You need to sit, and you need to tell me what’s going on.”
Sitting in her humble hotel room, surrounded by the gaudy furniture and tasteless knick-knacks, I yearned for the days when things were simple. Not that my life had ever been that simple, but there were moments when things were quieter, fun. Eleanor provided me with many of those moments.
And I was about to tear her heart in two.
“My dad…” I started, taking a deep breath and squeezing my trembling fingers together in my lap. “You’ve heard of Doyle Maguire?”
She stiffened, then nodded. “Yes.”
My voice cracked with emotion as I relayed the whole ordeal, every painful detail. Letting it out, purging myself of the horrors, helped my resolve. I had to leave—for good—and I needed her help.
“Ellie, I need your help. I have to get out of here, as soon as possible. I need you to help me get the hell out of Vegas. I promise not to involve you in anything else.”
She looked conflicted. “Jayne, running is not the answer. What about your life in L.A.? What about this man you fell in love with? Are you telling me you can walk away not knowing if he’s alive or dead? Can you leave without regret?”
I hesitated. She was right. My heart was being held back by the bindings of Flynn Maguire. I couldn’t walk away, not without knowing. I was scared, and I panicked.
With a sigh, she brushed her hands over her skirt and shook her head. “You know, I never wanted you to have to go through something like this. I never wanted you to end up like me.”
Her sincerity warmed me. I knew she always wanted better for me. Hell, she tried to save me from myself so many times I couldn’t even count them on two hands. But, I was my father’s daughter, and I was stubborn. The one thing I did learn from Eleanor was to never lose your heart to a game player, and I’d thrown that knowledge out the window along with my dignity and respect.
“You can’t run away from this, Jayne. Your father is dead, and you’re going to have to deal with things.”
Shaking my head, I started to cry again. I was in shock. I was so freaked out, I couldn’t even feel my skin. I hadn’t even come to terms with what I’d seen. Even though seeing my father slumped over in that chair, cold and covered in blood, in my heart, it wasn’t real.
“There’s nothing I can do now, Ellie. He’s gone.”
She stood and paced in front of me. “The cops are going to want to talk to you. You need to put him to rest. Jayne, it’s time to grow up!”
That pissed me off. I’d been taking care of myself for as long as I could remember. Taking care of my dad and getting him out of messes had become a full-time job, and she wanted to accuse me of being immature.
“Did you not understand what I said? They. Killed. Him. He’s dead! I’ve been busting my ass trying to get him out of this mess, and the mess before that, and the mess before that! My whole life has been taking care of him, Ellie! Doyle Maguire is still out there, and you know damn well he’s coming for me. I have nothing left! Dad, Vince, even fucking Flynn! I want to start over. I want a real life!”
She sighed, and I could see the toll it was taking on her as well. I hadn’t meant to pull her into more drama, but I was stuck. I seriously had nowhere to turn.
She was it.
“You’ll never forgive yourself if you walk away. Give your father his last respects. You have to contact Vince’s family. Whether you like it or not, it’s your responsibility.”
She was right. I didn’t like it, but she was definitely right. I had no desire to call Vince’s family. He only had his mother and a brother left, and I’d never met them. All I knew was that they were not on good terms, and they weren’t going to be friendly with the news I had to share.
How did you even go about telling someone their son was dead?
“I don’t even know what to do.”
She stopped pacing long enough to face me, gave me a weak smile, and started toward the kitchen.
“I’ll start a pot of coffee—you turn on the television, and we’ll see if there’s any news. We’ll figure it out, Janie.”
A few hours later, I was back in my townhouse, alone. I couldn’t even look at anything without being reminded of Vince. It hurt. It was all becoming very real, even though I still couldn’t bring myself to think about what I’d seen. Once I’d divulged the story to Ellie, my mind locked up tight. I was in denial, and I liked it that way. There was no other way to deal with it. If I let the shock fade, I’d have to come to terms. I didn’t like that idea at all.
We scanned the news for hours, and there was nothing about a shooting. I had my own feelings as to why that was, and I was pretty sure Ellie felt the same.
If Doyle Maguire was still alive, it wouldn’t be news.
He’d make sure he cleaned it up nice and tidy so that no one would know he was involved. I wasn’t sure how he was going to paint Flynn’s death. His own son.
The ache was permanent when I thought about him. My heart still longed for him, and probably always would. In the short span of time I’d been with him, I fell hard. I hadn’t expected it to be so intense, regardless of the attraction between us. The difference between love and lust was vast, and I’d learned the hard way just how wicked love could be.
I would never be the same.
I started a bubble bath to settle my nerves and had just stripped down to step inside when the doorbell rang. Immediately, every hair on my neck stood on edge.
I wrapped myself up in my big fluffy robe and carefully and quietly made my way through the hallway to get a glimpse of who was knocking.
There were two cops standing on my front porch, and the lights on top of their cars reflected and glowed through my front window. Although I was relieved that it wasn’t Doyle, cops were never a good thing in my business.
Taking a deep breath, I went to the door, slid the locks, and opened the door.
“Are you Samantha Jayne King?”
Hearing my given name come out of their mouths felt like a punch to the gut. I nodded, gulping and shifting on my feet.
“Is there something wrong?”
“Are you the owner of a 2012 BMW Z4?”
I nodded again. My car… I’d left my car behind.
“What is this about, officer?”
“Your car was found in an abandoned parking lot on the south side of town. Someone called after seeing someone break into it.”
“Oh, no!”
I didn’t know what to say. I had no idea how to explain the circumstances without possibly setting myself up for a shitload of trouble.
“Were you aware that your car was missing?”
I could tell he was trying to read me, as cops often did. I was well taught in the art of deception. He wasn’t going to get me that easily.
“I’ve been ill for a couple days. Cramps.” I grimaced and rubbed my belly, knowing full well that men of all ages didn’t like to deal with the trials of Mother Nature.
“I haven’t left the house. I had no idea!”
He gave his silent partner a nod, and he pulled a slip of paper out of his shirt pocket. “This is the number you can call to retrieve your vehicle. They won’t be open until tomorrow, but I’d give them a call first thing in the morning.”
That wasn’t the greatest news, seeing that I’d be stuck in the house until the damn tow yard opened, but it was better than the alternative.
“Well, thank you. I really appreciate you coming by. I’ll be sure to give them a call tomorrow.”
I didn’t like the way he was looking at me. I hated pompous ass cops in the first place, but it pissed me off that he was deliberately checking me out, probably imagining what was underneath my robe—or not underneath my robe—while he was supposed to be doing his job.
I was in no mood for that shit.
“Well, as far as we know, there was no damage to the vehicle, aside of the door lock being jammed when they tried to steal it. You’ll have to get that repaired.”
I nodded and tried not to roll my eyes.
Whatever, idiot.
“Thanks. I’m glad it was found.”
He looked over my shoulder, and I moved to block him. He was really getting on my nerves.
“I’m not feeling so well, so I’m going to go back to bed. Thanks again for stopping by.”
I slid back into the house and went to shut the door when his foot stopped me.
“You don’t seem very worried. That’s a pretty expensive car, Miss King.”
I scowled, and without another word, slammed the door on him.
He was fishing, and all the worry and fear crept back up like a sneak in the night.
Clicking the locks secure, I fled to the bathroom, let the water out of the tub, and turned on the shower. There was no time for a bath, not when I had a psycho gunning for me.
EIGHTEEN
Three days passed, and there had still been no word on my dad. Or Vince. Eleanor wanted me to contact the police, but that had bad idea written all over it. I’d had a hard enough time retrieving my car, so exposing the situation to the cops was out. For all I knew, they’d been buried in cement. I knew I’d never see them again, and the law wasn’t going to change that.
I wasn’t out of danger, either, which was why I had to get my ass out of Vegas and off the map. I was sick of hiding. I’d hidden away long enough, and between the panic and paranoia, I was about out of my head.
So, I had to make some phone calls and collect on some favors in order to do that. I figured it was only a matter of time before Doyle came after me, and I wasn’t going to live in fear forever. I had no reason to stay, nothing to hold me there. Waiting for someone to jump out of a bush or cap me off from the window of a passing car wasn’t my idea of fun. No, it was time for Jayne to hang up her little black book and move on for good.
I’d packed up what I could, which wasn’t much. Everything else was still in California, and with no destination in mind, I wasn’t even sure what to take with me. What I did know was that I was going to have to start over. From scratch.
My first phone call was going to be awkward, but necessary, and I hoped she’d be down with what I had to ask. It was imperative that I had someone I could trust, and after days of weighing my options, I knew I could trust Pamela.
She agreed to meet me at a coffee shop out of town, so I locked up the house and headed out as cautiously as possible.
As I pulled up in the parking lot of the coffee house in Henderson, the full impact of what I was about to do hit me. There was no turning back once I did it, and strangely, instead of being upset, I only felt resigned. I was ready.
She looked much different than the first time we met, but she still made me smile, even with the heavy stress I carried on my shoulders. She looked professional and confident, and once again, I envied her. She inspired me, and the night I spent with her definitely impacted me. Something about that night flipped a switch inside of me. I wanted what she had.
A life.
“Jayne,” she said, standing as I approached. “I am so glad to see you.”
Her smile was broad and genuine, and it warmed me in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. I couldn’t help it—I burst into tears.
“Oh, no,” she said, wrapping me up in a tight hug. “I knew this wasn’t going to be an easy meeting, but I have a feeling you’re in trouble.”
Once I’d gotten myself together, I went into the whole story, not leaving one detail out. I told her about coming back to Vegas, about Flynn, and about what had gone down in that office building a few days before.
“Well, I have to tell you, that is one hell of a story, sweetheart. I’m not sure what it is you need me to do, but I’ll do whatever I can.”
Taking a deep breath, I pulled out the paperwork I’d put together and slid it across the table. “I need to make sure the girls that worked for me are taken care of. I want to turn the business over to Olivia. I trust her, and she’s been with me the entire time. I don’t want any of this to come back to me. I want to make sure it’s done carefully and correctly. I just want to wipe my name clean and move on with a clean slate.”
She took a few moments to read it over, slid her glasses off, and looked up at me. “I can take care of this first thing in the morning. You’ll be completely free and clear of all of it. Are you positive you don’t want to sell your property? Won’t you need the money?”
Shaking my head, I smiled. “I have enough to get by on for a while. I want to put it all behind me. I never want to go back. I plan on driving down tomorrow to pick up some of my things, but the rest can go to an auction, charity, whatever. I won’t need it.”
I got back home a little after seven, and as I pulled up, I noticed a familiar black town car sitting across the street. My stomach lurched, and my first instinct was to keep driving. Something stopped me, though, so I pulled into my driveway and turned the car off. I couldn’t get out, not at first. I was scared, fear creeping in, so I stayed put, waiting for Collins to make the first move.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what he had to say. It was sure to ruin me, one way or another.
He didn’t make me wait long, and before I knew it, he was crossing the street and approaching my car. My pulse throbbed, and my hands shook. It was surreal seeing him, like I was expecting an apparition. My throat went dry as I pulled the door handle and pushed it open.
“Why are you here?” I wasn’t interested in beating around the bush. I wasn’t comfortable with him being there. I didn’t feel safe.
“I need you to come with me.”
I laughed in disbelief. “I don’t think so.”
He let out a frustrated sigh and held out his hand. “You can trust me, Jayne. No one knows I’m here.”
I laughed. “Seriously? I don’t trust anyone. I think you know why.”
His eyes went soft, and he cleared his throat. “He wasn’t involved. I can vouch for that.”
I rolled my eyes and pushed past him. “You expect me to believe someone he paid? You’re as stupid as I was to trust that man. If you’ll excuse me, I have things I need to take care of.”
“You’re leaving.” It was a statement, not a question.
“That’s none of your business,” I snapped.
“Jayne, you’re not out of danger. I need you to come with me. I won’t take no for an answer.”
His tone startled me. I turned, and the look of desperation on his face knocked me on my ass. “He’s alive, isn’t he?”
He merely nodded toward the car and motioned me to follow him.
“I can’t,” I choked. “I can’t go to him, knowing what he did.”
“He’s in love with you, Jayne,” he said.
“That’s not good enough. Love isn’t supposed to hurt, or lie. He did both.”
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a letter, handing it to me and giving me a weak smile.
“Good luck, Miss King.”
For a long time after his car disappeared down the street, I just stood there, staring at the white envelope and debating whether or not I should read it. He was alive, and for that, I was grateful, but I was still angry.
I finally gave in, ripping it open and discarding the envelope on the grass. Unfolding the letter, I held it up and read it, tears blearing my vision and crippling pain squeezing the life out of my heart.
