Goddess of Vengeance (54 page)

‘No chance,’ Ellie said, laughing. ‘Not unless you cut off your dick and call yourself Daisy!’

*   *   *

Danny met Lennie at the top of the pathway that led to the villas. ‘Villa number four,’ he said, all business. ‘Apparently there’s been complaints about the noise coming from there.’

‘Noise?’

‘Music. My friend at the desk says there must be a party going on. One more complaint and they’re sending security.’

‘Why haven’t they done so already?’

‘They don’t like messing with the high rollers,’ Danny explained. ‘Bad for business.’

‘So you think Lucky walked in on a party?’ Lennie said.

Danny shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Armand Jordan didn’t strike me as a party animal unless it involves hookers.’

‘Why does Lucky do this?’ Lennie questioned.

‘Do what?’

‘Walk herself into situations she can’t control.’

‘She’s
your
wife.’

‘Thanks, Danny,’ Lennie said dryly. ‘I think I know that.’

‘I’m sure she’s fine,’ Danny said.

*   *   *

Fouad hurried down the pathway toward the villas. He had a bad feeling in his gut – something wasn’t right, he knew it. Leaving Armand alone to do whatever he felt like doing was not wise. Armand was too volatile a personality, he had to have some restraints. Fouad had always been the voice of reason, a calming influence. The truth was that Armand needed him.

It was cold out and quite dark, but Fouad could hear loud music ahead of him, and he was sure it must be coming from Armand’s villa.

As he got nearer, he suddenly encountered two people, a man wearing sunglasses at night, and a skinny raggedy-looking woman. Fouad might have passed them with a polite nod of acknowledgement, except for one thing. Between the two of them they were lugging one of Armand’s distinctive Louis Vuitton suitcases – his initials on the handle.

Immediately Fouad knew. It had to be the suitcase packed with money which Armand always insisted on bringing to Vegas. Over seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars in cash.

‘Excuse me,’ Fouad said.

Mikey stopped for a moment. ‘What?’ he snarled.

‘I think you have something that doesn’t belong to you.’

Chapter Sixty-Six

O
n the stroke of midnight, Mr O arrived in Las Vegas by private plane. A rented town car waited for him at a prearranged spot, the keys under the floor mat as he’d requested.

Mr O could have been a
GQ
model or a famous actor. He was black and beautiful, a cross between Denzel Washington and Blair Underwood. However, Mr O had chosen a different profession – a profession that would last as long as he wanted. A profession that paid him top dollar, because he was the best at what he did.

Mr O was a mechanic. A hit man. A solver of anyone’s problem – as long as the price was right.

Mr O was the best at what he did. And only the best hired him.

This was not the first job he was about to do for Martin Constantine, and it would not be the last.

Mr O always took care of business.

Chapter Sixty-Seven

M
ikey was not about to accept shit from anyone. He’d had a trying evening, and now he was all set to take off with the prize – a suitcase stuffed full of Benjamins. The last thing Mikey needed was some random ass-wipe stopping him and telling him that the suitcase was not his.

Luscious hovered next to him, a shivery presence in her tiny skirt and top. She wouldn’t be any help in an argument, she was already a hindrance.

Mikey had decided that when they reached Randy’s car, he’d send her back ostensibly to get the others, then he’d drive off into the night, leaving them all behind. They were a worthless crew – including his big lox of a brother. The truth was he had no use for any of them.

Mikey took a long steady look at the man confronting him. He did not seem like a threat; he seemed nervous, which was good, because Mikey enjoyed making people nervous.

‘You wanna get outta my way, sport,’ he said, standing very still. ‘I won this suitcase legitimate, so back the fuck off.’

‘Yeah,’ Luscious said, joining in, her tinny little voice getting on his nerves. ‘Back the fuck off.’

Mikey shot her a scathing glare. What were they – a comedy duo?

‘I’m afraid I shall have to confirm that with the Prince,’ Fouad said, asserting his authority, although his hands were trembling and he wasn’t sure if he could handle this.

‘Prince?’ Luscious squeaked.

‘This is a gamblin’ town,’ Mikey said flatly. ‘I won this fair an’ square, you don’t havta check with no one.’

‘I’m afraid I do,’ Fouad said, standing his ground.

A long moment of silence, then in a sudden fit of temper, Mikey reached down into his boot and slid out the six-inch hunting knife. He’d had enough jacking around, it was time to go. ‘Is this what you’re lookin’ for?’ he yelled at Fouad. ‘You wanna get yourself cut, mothafucker? Is that what ya want?’

‘The suitcase does not belong to you,’ Fouad said, his throat so dry that he could barely speak. ‘Kindly leave it and get away from here.’

‘You dumb
fuck
,’ Mikey snarled, plunging the knife into Fouad’s chest. ‘You dumb cocksuckin’ fuck!’

Fouad staggered slightly, thought about his wife and children for a brief second, then fell to the ground.

*   *   *

Standing at the window, Max and Billy watched in horror as the man with the suitcase produced a knife and began stabbing the other man.

‘Oh my God!’ Max yelled, panicking. ‘We’ve got to do something.’

‘I’ll call security,’ Billy said quickly.

‘No, no – it’ll be too late,’ Max urged. ‘We must help now.’

*   *   *

Lucky decided there was nothing she could do for Armand except wait for the paramedics. Then she heard yelling, so she ran outside in time to observe Mikey, in a frenzy, stabbing Fouad – who was now on the ground.

She didn’t hesitate. Grabbing Mikey’s right arm, she twisted it back until she forced him to drop the knife.

Mikey turned on her in a deadly fury. ‘You fuckin’ bitch,’ he screamed, kicking and punching her. ‘I’ll fuckin’ kill you.’

‘Oh my God!’ Max cried out, still by the window. ‘It’s my mom. We’ve got to help her!’ She ran outside and without thinking, she pounced on Mikey’s back, clinging tightly around his neck, and scratching his face, while Lucky attempted to pick herself up and reach the knife.

With a roar of anger, Mikey sent Max flying, swooped down and grabbed the knife before Lucky could get to it. At which point Billy joined the fray, springing into action-hero mode, a role he’d played many times on the big screen. He’d had a few fights in his time, and knew that the best line of defence was attack, so he directed a vicious kick at Mikey’s balls.

Mikey doubled over for seconds, before letting out another powerful yell, and striking out with the knife, catching Billy down the side of his cheek.

Blood flowed.

By this time, Lucky was up, and only thinking of protecting her daughter. She had no idea where Max had come from or what she was doing here – it didn’t matter. All Lucky wanted was to get Max away from the violence, somewhere safe.

‘Get out of here,’ she yelled at Max. ‘Run! Go get help!’

‘I can’t leave Billy,’ Max cried, sinking to the ground and cradling Billy’s head in her lap, attempting to staunch the flow of blood. ‘He’s hurt. Oh my God! He’s bleeding.’

Fouad was also on the ground, moaning, while Luscious stood to one side – transfixed. Was it? Could it be? Was she looking at Billy Melina, the famous movie star?

Mikey possessed the strength of a bull. His adrenalin was running strong. Three down. All that was left was the woman, and she wasn’t backing away. Oh no. She was staring at him like a Black Widow spider waiting to pounce.

He had a strong urge to cut the bitch, cut her good. But even more important was taking off with the suitcase.

Where the fuck was Randy?

‘Randy!’ He roared his brother’s name, and the big oaf came lumbering out of the villa, buttoning up his pants.

‘What the fuck—’ Randy mumbled, taking in the chaos.

‘We’re gettin’ outta here,’ Mikey commanded. ‘Pick up the fuckin’ suitcase, an’ let’s go.’

Lucky stood back and watched them, savvy enough to realize there was nothing she could do, although if she’d had a gun she would not have hesitated using it. They were the dregs. Criminal dregs. And they were stupid too. She knew without a doubt that they’d be caught within twenty-four hours.

‘S’long, bitch,’ Mikey said, throwing her a triumphant look. ‘Whoever the fuck you are.’

The fight was over. The Sorrentino brothers were on their way, Luscious trailing behind them, Seducta left snoring on the couch inside the villa.

As soon as they were gone, Lucky took stock of the situation. The sudden violence was over. In spite of everything Max seemed to be okay, Fouad not so good, and Billy was still bleeding.

‘The paramedics will be here any minute,’ she said, gazing intently at her daughter. ‘Are you okay?’

Max nodded, a lone tear trickling down her cheek. ‘I was so scared for you, Mom. I tried to help.
We
tried to help.’

‘Yes,’ Lucky said gravely. ‘I know you did.’ Then she added with the hint of a smile, ‘We make quite a team. Where did
you
learn to kick ass?’

Max gave a wan smile. ‘From my amazing mom, where else?’

And they exchanged a warm look.

Minutes later Lennie and Danny arrived, followed by the paramedics.

Lucky knew that this was not the right time to ask Max what was going on. There was always another day. And eventually she would find out everything.

Chapter Sixty-Eight

M
ysteries take place, and sometimes they are never solved. Take the case of Armand Jordan. The man lost consciousness due to an over-indulgence of liquor, heroin and cocaine. The paramedics arrived in time to save him, but it was not to be, because no one was able to save him from the precise bullet-hole right between his eyes.

Prince Armand Mohamed Jordan had been shot execution-style, and only two men knew why.

To everyone else it was a mystery that would never be solved.

Epilogue