“Once that crazy old bat gets the laptop, I can show you how he works his accounting system,” the goon said, “How he shuffles the money. I can also give you access to the offshore account he’s siphoning it to.”
“And you’ll testify?”
The Goon hesitated. “New identity. New name, new city, enough money to live comfortably until I get a job.”
“What kind of job? It’s gotta be legit.”
“I want to study interior design. I’ve spent enough time in shitty, over done hotels. I want to design ones that have real class.”
Looking at him, with his shaved head, linebacker shoulders and hands that looked like they could, and probably had, choked the life out of someone, Nick just nodded. “Sure. Sounds good. Interior design. I’ll make the call.”
Using the burner phone that Dixie handed him, Nick called his superior. Retreating to the bathroom, he relayed the bizarre sequence of events to his SAC.
“You’re telling me that two old women tied Mahoney’s bodyguard to a bed and pried out an ingrown toenail to break this case wide open?”
Nick sighed. “Yes, sir. Now, we just need to retrieve Mahoney’s laptop.”
“And are these two old women going to drop down from the ceiling dressed in black, all Mission Impossible like, and steal it from him?”
It was just getting weirder the more he explained it. “No sir, I think one of them means to seduce him to get it.”
The SAC was gritting his teeth so hard that Nick could hear it through the phone. “This is not protocol,” the man said. “This isn’t how we do things—”
“With all due respect, sir…” Nick was over it. Over, having his life interrupted, having to be put in danger when that wasn’t a job he’d ever signed up for. Over the fact that no one seemed to recognize just what a prize the Claiborne women had tossed into their laps. “…I’m not a field agent. I’ve never asked to be field agent. I was given no choice. Either accept this assignment or lose my job…as an IT Specialist. I fix your computer and printer when it breaks. I don’t handle weapons. I was told to use whatever means I had at my disposal to get the necessary info. That happens to be three women who’ve gotten more information in twenty-four hours than the bureau managed to lay hands on in two years. If anyone’s efficacy in this situation should be questioned, it’s ours. Not theirs.”
“Get it done, Jameson, and get the hell out of there. You can go back to your IT job and never have to step foot in the field again.”
Nick wasn’t quite done yet. “I want a team ready to move in. In the next twenty minutes it’s all going straight to hell and Mahoney needs to be in custody immediately.”
“They’re on standby.”
Nick sighed with relief. “And the deal?”
“Immunity, new identity and witness protection…for the racketeering and money laundering. That’s all. If we can pin anything else on him, we will, but he doesn’t need to know that.”
“Understood.” Nick walked back into the room where everyone waited with bated breath. “He went for it. You get a new identity and we all get the hell out of here…once we get that laptop.”
“So how do we do that?” Dixie asked.
Nick looked over at the goon. “We don’t. He does. I don’t have a warrant. And probable cause does not work the way it does on TV. So, he’s gonna get it for us.”
“No way in hell,” the goon shot back. “If Mahoney catches me trying to sneak out of his suite with that computer, I’m a dead man.”
“It’s that or no deal, and you’ve confessed to enough stuff that I can probably still get you convicted!”
“While under duress!” the goon protested.
“While in the process of committing a home invasion…well, a room invasion at any rate,” Nick reminded him. “You really think people are going to believe that two little old ladies and one young woman subdued you in a hotel room without having damn good cause?”
The goon sat in stony silence for a moment. “I fucking hate you,” he finally said, and it was as close to capitulation as anyone was going to get.
Dixie gazed over at Nick. “So, what do I do while all this is going down? I’m assuming we won’t be hanging around for long?”
Nick shook his head. “There’s an old, beat up Honda Civic parked in the back corner of the parking lot. I need you to get it, pull up out front, and keep the engine running. Frankie and Irma, you go to the lobby and wait and the minute you see Dixie pull up, you get in that car. The three of you are going to wait for us and once we’ve got the laptop, we run for it.”
~*~*~
Dixie had a very bad feeling. “So how many goons does Mahoney actually have working here? How many people could potentially be trying to kill us?”
“This is a casino, ‘Cilla.” It was the goon who answered, though his words were beginning to slur. “It might be a shitty one, but there’s still a lot of cash on hand. At any given time, there are at least twenty guards on duty, and they all have guns whether you see them or not. One word from Mahoney and they’ll put bullets in every one of us.”
With a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, Dixie glanced back at Nick. “Where are the keys?”
“They’re in the room. You can’t take your suitcase. Mahoney has security watching you, so it would be a big tip off…but you need to change. Jeans, shoes you can run in if need me.”
Run. With one middle aged and one elderly woman. If it came to that, there was no hope, and Dixie didn’t doubt for a minute that the goon would sell them out as soon as look at them. What other option is there? Stay and die for sure or run and hope you make it out.
Nick addressed Irma and Frankie, “Can you handle him on your own for a couple of minutes?”
Frankie waved off his concern. “We’ve got this. He’s not going anywhere.”
Dixie moved toward the door, Nick behind her, and they made their way to their own smaller suite. Pausing outside their door, she turned back to him. They couldn’t say anything once they were inside, so it was their last chance to talk. The room was bugged, and they didn’t know if it was Mahoney, security or someone else listening in.
Leaning down, he whispered softly against her ear, “From the time you leave the building, no more than fifteen minutes. If we’re not out in fifteen, you leave. Take Irma and Frankie and go.”
“I’m not going to just abandon you here,” she hissed. “They’ll kill you.”
“If you don’t, they might kill all of us,” he insisted.
Dixie met his gaze and knew that he meant every word of it. “Why are you doing this?”
“Dixie, when the bureau asks you to do something, they’re not really asking. Refusing makes life hell for you and everyone around you…I just have to say this, and I know it’s probably too late, and I know it’s not the right time, but I love you.”
Her heart skipped a beat. Literally. It stuttered in her chest as she looked up at him, hearing the words from him that she’d wanted so badly. “You love me?”
“Yes. And if we get out of here, even though we only dated for a few weeks, it doesn’t matter. I’m going to marry you and you need to just get used to that idea.”
She gulped. “Married? Are you crazy?” No one in her life had ever been willing to marry into the crazy Claiborne family.
“I know what I want and that’s to spend the rest of my life with you…working the most boring job I can possibly find and coming home to you at night.”
That sounded like paradise to her. No one watching them or listening in, unless you put stock in Frankie’s many theories. No guns either and the only people who would be getting tied to beds was either her or Nick and it would be entirely voluntarily. It was a risk, but the reward was so worth it. Taking a deep breath, she gave him her answer, “I love you too, and I’d marry you right now, if I could.”
When he kissed her, Dixie felt it all the way to her toes. Whether it was the adrenaline, or just the monumental nature of the moment they’d j
ust shared, she couldn’t say, but that kiss rocked her to her soul.
When the kiss broke, Nick pulled back and whispered, “My good luck charm.”
“Don’t die today, okay?”
“Ditto.”
Entering their hotel room, neither spoke. They dressed quickly, Dixie donning capri pants and comfy flats with a simple t-shirt. Nick donned one of his many costumes. The white jumpsuit with a thunderbird design on the back in silver and turquoise was a bit of a shock. “That’s what you’re wearing?”
“Yeah. I’ve got a show at two, remember?”
Of course, and if he was seen in costume rather than street clothes, that would be less suspicious. It was definitely not low profile though. Watching as he combed his hair back into the traditional Elvis style, Dixie shook her head. “My life is just weird as hell sometimes.”
Nick grinned, the moment of levity easing the tension in both of them.
It took five minutes and they were back out the door. Dixie checked her watch. It was nearly one o’clock. Back in Frankie and Irma’s room, they discovered the unthinkable. The goon was passed out cold.
“What the hell happened?” Nick asked.
“The haldol kicked in earlier than we expected,” Frankie explained. “It’s only been twenty minutes. Lightweight!”
“We don’t know where the laptop is and without him, we’re screwed,” Dixie shot back.
Nick shook his head. “I think I know where it is, but it’s going to be tricky…and we’ve got to take him in, and there’s no way in hell I can pack him down the stairs.”
“Oh, that’s not a problem,” Irma said. “I already called the front desk and they’re sending up a wheel chair for us to use.”
Dixie felt a reassuring squeeze of her hand before Nick let go and headed out. “Get the car, Dixie. And don’t wait. Take him with you. There’s a field office in Memphis where you can turn him in. Ask for SAC Thompson.”
“Be careful!” she called out.
CHAPTER SIX
Nick didn’t creep down the hall. He was wearing a white bell-bottom jumpsuit with a gigantic thunderbird emblazoned across his back. Creeping wasn’t an option. Instead, he walked right down the hall as if he was expected. There were no guards outside Mahoney’s suite for a change. One was unconscious and he didn’t know what had happened to the other one, but he could only assume he was incapacitated in some way.
Using the keycard that Frankie had taken from the goon’s jacket pocket, he let himself in. As far as suites at the Viva went, Mahoney had taken the prime one for himself. His own suite had consisted of a small kitchen area and a loveseat, but Mahoney’s boasted a separate living and dining room, not to mention a broad expanse of windows.
Heading straight for the bedroom, he opened the closet and saw the door to the safe. He had a good idea what the combination would be, but that was all. Punching in the code, he felt a moment’s thrill as the light on the door went from red to green. Pulling it open, he grabbed the laptop bag.
His heart kept racing so fast, his pulse pounding in his ears so loudly, that he almost didn’t hear the door to the suite opening. Some sixth sense alerted him. Easing into the closet, he shut the door behind him and watched through the slats as Mahoney entered.
He was on the phone and obviously angry. “Just keep Danova in the dark for a few more days, then I’ll have enough to cover the loss…It doesn’t matter how, dammit… Look, you give me three days and the money will be back in the account with none the wiser.”
The call ended abruptly, the other party having obviously hung up. Mahoney threw the phone, sending it crashing into the wall where it shattered.
Holding his breath, Nick prayed for all he was worth.
Mahoney stripped off his suit jacket, loosened his tie and began to unbutton his shirt. Then, he finally wandered, mostly naked, into the bathroom.
It was not anything Nick cared to see. Hoping the older man’s hearing was less than perfect, Nick made a break for it. Opening the closet door, he slipped through the bedroom and out into the living room. When he reached the door of the suite, he pulled it open and walked directly into the path of Mahoney’s other guard.
“What the hell are you doing here?” the guard demanded, pulling his gun.
Nick didn’t hesitate, and while it was a risk he might damage the data, he wasn’t willing to die for it. He threw the laptop, smacking the guard squarely in the face with it.
The man dropped the gun, cupping his nose as it gushed blood. “My nose! You broke my fucking nose!”
Grabbing the bag and the gun, Nick ushered the guard down the hall. Next to the elevator was a large linen closet, with the master key from the other goon, Nick unlocked the door and shoved the guard inside. With the butt of the pistol, he whacked the goon on the back of the head and let him fall. He wouldn’t be out for long, but it might give him a chance to get away.
Not waiting for the elevator and knowing the building was only five stories, he hit the stairwell, racing down toward the lobby. Irma and Frankie were near the front door, goon one wearing a floppy hat and what appeared to be one of Irma’s velour tracksuits, was slumped in the wheel chair and covered with a blanket, looking for all the world to be an obese elderly women. They were fucking geniuses.
The Honda pulled up out front, Dixie in the driver’s seat looking tense and worried. Irma and Frankie pushed the wheelchair out front, Nick moved casually toward the door, ignoring the tourists taking his picture. His feet had just touched the welcome mat when he heard the shouts from behind him. Looking casual wasn’t an option. He broke into a run, tugging the goon up from wheelchair and tossing him into the back seat. Irma and Frankie climbed in, sitting on top of him.
Nick did the thing that always looked so cool when other people did it. He jumped on the hood, sliding across it to reach the passenger side. As his hip connected with the hood, pain exploded in his side. Turns out, hood sliding was much cooler on TV than in real life. In real life, it was dammed painful. It also created the wedgie to end all wedgies.
“So much for the Dukes of Hazzard,” he said, climbing into the car. He didn’t even have the door shut when Dixie floored it. The Honda lurched forward, and in the rearview mirror, he could see a team of agents moving in, disembarking from a large white van that had parked out front.
It was over. Well, mostly over.
Dixie screamed then, the sound filling the car and nearly shattering his ear drum. “What?”
“You’ve been shot, you idiot!”
Nick looked down, blood was seeping into the white fabric at an alarming speed. “Huh,” he said, and then slumped over in his seat, too tired at that point to do anything else.
~*~*~
It’d been hours since Nick passed out in the car. Sitting in the hard plastic chair of the hospitals waiting room, Dixie had never been so exhausted in her life. Irma and Frankie were fast asleep on nearby couches.
Nick’s Special Agent In Charge, an asshole if ever one walked the earth, had taken possession of the prisoner.
“Ms. Claiborne?”
Dixie looked up as the doctor walked towards her. “Yes. How is Nick? Is he okay?”
“He’s fine. The bullet missed all vital organs. He’s got some stitches and he did lose quite a bit of blood, but barring any infection, he’ll heal just fine.”
“Can I see him?”
“Of course. They’ve just moved him from recovery to,” the doctor paused to flip through the paperwork he carried, “Room three twelve. Just take those elevators to the third floor and he’ll be down the hall on the right.”
Dixie thanked him and followed his directions. The elevator seemed to take forever. Stepping off onto the third floor, she found his room easily enough. Walking in, she saw him sitting in bed while a nurse flirted with him. “I thought you’d be resting,” she said.
The nurse eyed her suspiciously. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you’ll have to go. Family only.”
Dixie smiled, ignoring
the snarky ‘ma’am’ thing. “I’m his fiancée.”
Nick opened his eyes and smiled. “I like the way you say that.”
Hearing his voice nearly did her in. Relief hit her and her knees trembled from the force of it. Making her way to the chair next to the bed, she sank gratefully onto it. “Don’t ever do this to me again. If they want to fire you, let them fire you. No more danger. No more undercover. No more getting shot.”
He reached over and took her hand. “Deal…And you. No more vacations with your grandmother and Frankie. Those women are dangerous.”
Dixie laughed. “You have no idea.”
The nurse cleared her throat. “Don’t stay too long. He needs to rest.”
After she left, Dixie said, “I think Nurse Ratchett has the hots for you.”
“Couldn’t care less. The only woman that matters is you…So when are we getting married?”
Dixie smiled. “How about, when you’re up for it, we just fly to Vegas? I think a wedding chapel on the strip is just tacky enough to be perfect for us, don’t you?”
Nick smiled. “You just tell me when to show up.”
Epilogue
Nick tugged at the bow tie. He felt ridiculous, but hearing Dixie’s champagne fueled giggles, he knew it was worth it. It might have been their wedding day, but Frankie and Irma had been in charge of everything from the Elvis impersonator who performed the ceremony right down to their wardrobes. Which explained why he was wearing a vintage style, jacquard tuxedo a la Elvis and why Dixie’s hair needed its own zip code.
“I look like the bride of frankenstein,” she whined, using the palms of her hands to flatten the gigantic pouf of her dark hair as she stood in front of the mirror. The second she moved her hands, her hair sprang back into place.
“I think we’re just going to have to shave your head. There’s no coming back from what those crazy ass women did to you,” he said, pushing her hair aside to kiss the soft skin of her neck.
The Seraphina Donavan Collection: Contemporary Page 10
