“Dragar's running an internal investigation while they look for the girls. See if any of the other guys crack under pressure. Someone has to know something,” he said.
“Pisses me off that they killed another one. Systematically going through the ones left alive and taking them out.” But why. Rhett couldn't make heads or tails of it all. He studied the scenery as Christian accelerated and whisked them away from the hospital. Rhett was glad to be out of there. He hated hospitals with a passion.
“Yeah, seriously messed up,” Christian agreed with a low exhale. “Really vicious at the scene. Cut her heart out.”
Rhett's mind superimposed Genevieve's face over Evelyn's. His gut twisted at the thought of her suffering something even worse than where he'd found her the first time. And his own brethren were responsible. Rhett wasn't a novice to death and even murder. Their jobs, such as they were, forced them to commit acts most citizens wouldn't understand. They were in the employ of the Church, acting on direction from a liaison. But their work was always geared toward the good, not senseless death.
And he was very sure that the two murders the Templars had committed already were just that.
Senseless.
“I figure we'll just go back to the stronghold and wait to see where she winds up,” Christian said.
Rhett slanted him a dark look. “Like hell we will. I'll call ahead and get the private jet cleared. We know she's headed to the US, so we'll be on her tail when she arrives and just keep state hopping until she gets off. It'll help if we can find out which flight she's on.”
“I already checked. Her name isn't on any of the manifests. None of her 'friends' names, either. Nothing I recognize. She's using someone else's name, though I can't figure out how she got something that fast,” Christian said.
“Apparently. Let's hope she doesn't think to check for another bug or we'll really be up shit creek.” Rhett grunted. He wouldn't be all that surprised if she found it and put it on someone else's luggage, leading them on a wild goose chase that would just waste time.
Rhett had the distinct feeling that every second they spent away from her was a second closer to her death.
This desert felt different on her skin. Las Vegas, with all it's glitter and shine, was not a strange place. Evelyn had been here when the very first buildings had gone up, when the dusty valley had taken on life. An oasis of steel and metal sprung up from the sand, luring visitors from every corner of the world. She'd been here when the Rat Pack played at all the swanky hotels, and she'd been here when Elvis took the stage. Onward, through the years, she'd watched the urban sprawl stretch out over miles while the hotels got bigger and fancier and more elaborate.
Her last visit had been sometime in the eighties, before the Strip had become home to hotels like the Venetian and Paris. As the cab cruised along the infamous street, she marveled at just how many new and glowing palaces changed the skyline she'd once been so familiar with.
Two delays in the extraordinarily long trip put her arrival in the dead of night though like Port Said, nothing about this city slowed down just because the witching hour was upon them. Lights raced around the edges of the Flamingo and the MGM Grand towered like a monolith, glowing as green as the witch's skin in the Wizard of OZ. She might have marveled at the replication of the Eiffel tower but all Evelyn could think was that Galiana would never see any of this again. Her sister had a special fondness for Vegas, always had.
Shoving the emotion down, she watched several little quaint chapels flicker past the window of the taxi, the spires lit up like the faux stained glass arching against the walls. The driver didn't have to compete with quite as much traffic as he might have four hours earlier and for that Evelyn was thankful. He pulled into the parking lot of the Venetian and angled up to drop her off before the front doors. Tipping him with a bit of the cash she had on her, Evelyn got out with only her bag over a shoulder.
People of all walks of life came in and out the doors, one of which she caught to hold open for herself. Entering, a cool touch of air hit her skin and the distant sound of chinging slot machines greeted her ears. Sweeping the hat off, feeling safe and obscure here so far from that gloomy alley a half world away, she stuffed it down into the large bag and headed to the front desk. The décor was charming and fitting for the theme, the lady at the counter helpful and smiling.
Evelyn used the stolen identification again and paid cash for a room for one night. She didn't trust to stay too long in one place and planned to move from one casino to another every few days. In the meantime, she would try to make contact with her sisters and get them on planes out of the middle east. If she couldn't contact them here, it wasn't likely that she would have been able to contact them in Egypt either.
She took the sobering thought with her to the elevators, rubbing her eyelids with her fingertips. The whoosh of the cab took her up to the third floor where she got off and made her way down the hall.
It reminded her of the hotel in Port Said.
It reminded her of the bastard Rhett. Damn him.
Emotionally drained, she used the key card in the slot and opened the door. Like everything else about the newer hotel, the furnishings were crisp and clean and well appointed. Swags in yellow-gold material hung over the broad windows and a separate sitting area boasted two elegant stuffed chairs with matching ottomans. The baroque details and warm red patterned comforter made the room feel like home.
Engaging all the locks and even the chain, she dropped the bag on the ground near the bathroom doorway and went straight to the queen sized bed. Flopping onto the mattress, she stretched out with an exhausted sigh and finally allowed herself to relax for a second.
For the first time since she'd seen the blasted tattoo on Rhett's back, Evelyn felt like she could actually breathe without worrying someone would crash through the door. Not for long, but long enough to just take stock of what had happened. The ceiling blurred out of focus and she closed her eyes.
Only for a moment, she promised herself. Only for a moment.
A sharp rap on her door startled Evelyn awake. Her body had that heavy sensation of deep sleep dragging down her limbs even while she struggled to sit up. Disoriented, she realized more time than she'd thought had passed. Confused and panicked, it all came rushing back as another sharp knock penetrated the haze.
They couldn't have found her already. Impossible. She had no weapons, nothing to protect herself from them. Scrambling off the bed, she lurched for the phone on the nightstand, ready to dial the hotel operator and scream for assistance. Her hands took on a palsied shake from being woken up in such a startling way.
“Hello, room service.” Another rap of knuckles on the door.
Evelyn exhaled and set the handset back in the cradle.
Not the Templars at all. Just room service.
“Nothing right now, thank you,” she called toward the door. Even her voice shook.
No knocks followed.
Tonight she needed to remember to put the Do not disturb sign on her knob.
Making her way into the bathroom, she took care of business, washed her hands and splashed cold water on her face.
The reflection that peered back at her looked pale and drawn. Her eyes had a jaded quality, mouth turned down at the corners. She felt older, as if the strain of the last week had added twenty years to her life.
Even the tan she'd acquired in Greece didn't help.
“What now, Evelyn?” she asked herself. There were no easy answers, even here, alone in a hotel room thousands of miles away from the chaos her life had become.
Her first priority was to buy a few clothes and to find another internet cafe to check for messages from her sisters. By now, if the girls were on the run and not captive, they would have found a way to leave her an email.
Rinsing her mouth, she spat into the sink and patted her face dry. Out into the bedroom, she went to the window and pushed the blackout drapes back. Squinting against the bright glare of the sun, she realiz
ed by the slant of it in the sky that it was much later than she thought.
Twisting a look to the nightstand, she saw the digital readout: 11:16.
She couldn't believe she'd slept that long. Gathering up the purse, she double checked that she had her key card and wallet. Putting the hat on her head, she exited the room.
Her first stop was to grab a bagel from the deli. Stuffing it down into the purse, she navigated the classy interior of the Venetian and stepped out through the double glass doors into the heat of the Nevada day. People bustled along the sidewalk and cars clogged the Strip. Keeping a wary eye on anyone that looked suspicious, she started walking. There were so many more businesses lining the street that Evelyn was momentarily taken aback. Not just enormous hotels but restaurants and shops. She ate the bagel on the way, giving her flagging energy a much needed boost.
A few blocks down, she caught sight of a store front off the main drag that boasted an internet cafe. Inside, small tables had been set up with computers across from each other. A long bar sat against a floor to ceiling window with stools lined up for customers to sit on. Airy and clean, pale blue with silver accents, it had an almost fifties feeling to it.
Purchasing a fifteen minute block of time, she chose a table in the corner with a computer that faced away from the crowd. Setting her bag on the floor near her ankle, she glanced over the faces in the cafe before putting her fingers on the keys.
No one looked familiar. Not that she'd expected anyone to. Still, she was too wary not to keep a constant eye out for anything suspicious. It only took her a minute to log into their shared internet account. She clicked the folder for new mail and held her breath.
Nothing.
No new mail. A sharp stab of disappointment turned into a fresh round of fear. Anger at the Templars surfaced as well. Debating the wisdom of leaving her whereabouts, she decided that ultimately she had no choice.
Except she did so in a language long dead that no one else would be able to decipher. Even the most proficient code breaker would find it impossible to translate. Evelyn made obscure references to her location in any case. In her mind's eye, she recalled the skill the Templars had in torture and wasn't sure one of her sisters wouldn't give up the email account information no matter how strong willed or determined.
With her fifteen minutes up, Evelyn closed out the window and erased the history before leaving the cafe altogether. Deep in thought, she walked back to the Venetian with the city coming alive as the lunch hour arrived.
She knew she couldn't go back to Pacific Palisades. Couldn't go home. Didn't really want to with her sisters in a possibly precarious position. Even when they had lived in separate countries all those years ago, Evelyn hadn't felt this alone and unsure of herself. It was like she could feel the Templars breathing down her neck, waiting for the right time to strike.
Evelyn glanced over her shoulder. There were too many faces, too many people to tell whether any particular person had a specific interest in her.
Without warning, she bounced off a hard wall of muscle, a man's chest, and gasped when strong hands grasped her by the elbows.
“Should watch where you're walking, Miss,” the man said.
Evelyn, about to scream and fight back, met a pair of casual brown eyes that belonged to a man in a business suit. He released her right after that.
“Sorry. I thought I heard someone call my name,” she fibbed, standing where he left her. If the man had been a Templar, she would doubtless already be hustled into a car waiting at the curb.
He smiled and walked on, whistling to himself as he went.
Trying to calm her racing heart, Evelyn marched along the sidewalk, unsettled by the contact more than she wanted to admit.
Curls of steam permeated the hotel bathroom while Evelyn took a shower. She inhaled the hot mist to soothe her dry throat, scrubbing hours of travel from her skin. The shampoo the hotel provided smelled like it came from an upscale salon. Evelyn washed her hair twice and finally turned the water off. Stepping out, she toweled herself dry and then wrapped it around her head swami style. Using the side of her hand, she smeared the fog away from the mirror and stared at her reflection again.
She thought she looked tired. Distressed. Usually hot baths and showers did wonders for her morale. Today she felt like someone had strapped an anvil to her back.
Three hours of shopping replenished her clothing enough to get her by for several days. Jeans, tee shirts, one sundress, sandals, socks and undergarments.
She felt a strong urge to be doing something to help the girls but she wasn't sure what. Being born in the Garden of Eden didn't give them any special magical skills other than an innate ability to heal and the gift of immortality. Evelyn couldn't look into a crystal ball for answers or make images appear on water. They shared no mental telepathy or any other extreme intuition that might have helped her understand their fate.
Frustrated, she left the bathroom and drew on one of the pairs of jeans, a plain tee shirt of dove gray and new running shoes.
Evelyn didn't think she would ever be able to sleep again without being fully clothed. Not for the first time, she didn't feel comfortable unless she was ready to move at a moment's notice.
Pulling a fat toothed comb through her damp hair, she glanced at the nightstand clock: 3:30 p.m.
She didn't know what to do with herself, couldn't decide whether to stay in the room or investigate the casino. Money was too precious a commodity to throw away on gambling right now. Using the stolen credit card would just lead them to her faster when the woman reported it missing. Too restless to pace up here for the next however many hours until she could fall asleep, she used the complimentary hair dryer to make herself somewhat presentable and filled the pockets of the jeans with money, identification and the key card.
Evelyn left the hotel room for the second time that day and took the elevator down to the main floor. Busier than it had been earlier, the casino buzzed with bodies, the clang of machines and a whoop of someone who'd hit a minor jackpot.
To be so carefree.
She wove through bodies in search of something to eat, preferring the sit down deli rather than a restaurant where she would feel too confined and trapped by booths and walls. Sitting at a small table for one, she ate an early dinner consisting of a hoagie and an orange, people watching while she did so. No one seemed to be paying any special attention to her barring one man who smiled broadly on his way by for something to eat.
Probably harmless, like the business man she'd bumped into, but she wouldn't give him anymore than a vague smile in return to discourage him from coming over to talk. While she ate, she plotted what to do about their houses back in Pacific Palisades. She was sure they were being watched. It pained her to think that they wouldn't be able to get any of their things out.
Evelyn, in fact all of her sisters, had emergency accounts in foreign banks and countries with new identification, new lives and money to see them safely relocated in case something like this happened. The problem was that they needed to get to the stash in the city or country. Evelyn had tried to get to France, where there was one such stash and had to abort the idea when that security guard made her nervous. There was another safe deposit box in Los Angeles, one in New York, Japan, and several other locations that were more obscure. If she didn't hear from her sisters or if they didn't show up here in Las Vegas within three days, she decided she would choose one of those locations to retrieve more money and new ID.
Washing down the food with a swallow of water, she rested her back against the seat and was about to take a second drink when her gaze landed on a pair of pale green eyes. She jerked in surprise.
Rhett. Oh shit.
He stood next to a bank of machines with his arms crossed over his chest, sandy hair loose around his broad shoulders. The bastard didn't look worse for wear, though she knew there was an injury under the long sleeved black shirt somewhere. She thought his expression was almost—accusing.
Fro
zen, feeling like a deer in the headlights, she couldn't fathom how he'd found her this fast. It cost her precious seconds of getaway time.
Lurching up, she left the water on the table and briskly walked the other direction, leaving the cafe behind. Running in a casino was no good. Security would be on her in a second, making his job easier.
She wove between bodies, trying to get lost, glancing back only to see him stalking with what looked to be a casual enough gait in her wake.
Oh god. Christian was probably somewhere, ready to cut her off.
How had they found her so fas-- a tracker. He'd probably slapped one of those ugly black trackers on her back in Egypt.
“Excuse me. Pardon me,” she said, moving quickly around the main lobby for the doors. It was riskier to be out there but she'd take her chances over the idea that the Templars long reach could sway the security here to turn her over if they asked.
Or, he could just pose as the CIA agent again.
Panicked, her thoughts ran wild, even into sarcasm.
She felt trapped, suffocated. Like there was no where she could go to get away from them. Years ago, Minna had predicted that one day, the time would come when they would have to go back to the Garden of Eden just to survive. Technology would catch up with them, leaving them no alternative but to seek refuge in that hidden sanctuary. As beautiful as it was, as peaceful and safe, Evelyn wasn't willing to concede defeat yet. Especially not without Gen, Alex and Minna.
Straight from the doors, she broke into a run. Several people outright stared. All she cared about was that no one tried to stop her. Rushing headlong, she navigated the pathways, refusing to look behind her to see how much ground Rhett had closed between them. Making it to the sidewalk that ran along the Strip, she didn't turn down it; instead, she darted right into traffic, one hand slapping down on the hot hood of a car that barked its tires and screeched to a sudden halt. The driver swore at her in two different languages.
“Evelyn!” Behind her, Rhett shouted her name.
Sin and Sacrifice Page 15
