Lucky Flash: A Lucky O'Toole Novella (The Lucky O'Toole Vegas Adventure Series) (14 page)

“How did you know that was here?” Romeo asked, then whispered into the mic on his shoulder telling his guys we were inside.
 
He had three unmarkeds placed strategically around the neighborhood, the officers inside on the alert.
 

There was enough light on the horizon and from the moon to drink in what Vegas used to be. I let my gaze travel around the room. “Came here as a kid.
 
Liberace himself showed me that.
 
He was rather proud of it.”

“Seriously?”

“I was really young, but some things you remember.”
 
I tugged on his coat.
 
“This way.
 
The figurine will be in his bedroom if they put it back where Liberace always kept them.”

I pulled him through the front hall, up the stairs, taking a detour through his bathroom and boudoir because, well, it had to be seen.
 
The bedroom, all ornate carved wood moldings, four-poster bed with thick quilted brocade, antiques stuffed in every corner, was fit for a fourteenth-century French queen, which somehow seemed appropriate.

“This is a guy’s bedroom?”
 
Romeo clearly knew as little about Liberace as his fellow twenty-somethings.

“In a manner of speaking.”

The theme of the bedroom carried into the bathroom.
 
With every surface covered in white marble, gilded fixtures, strategically placed mirrors, the room had been restored as I remembered it.
 
I could picture the man himself in the round tub under mountains of bubbles.
 
Where that image came from, I don’t know, but I had a dim memory of him entertaining guests while bathing.

“The figurine is on the second shelf above the tub.”
 
Using the light on my iPhone, I confirmed that it was indeed where I’d thought it would be.

“Look at this stuff,” Romeo said, his voice holding a childlike awe.
 
He pressed a hand to his ear, seating the earpiece as he listened.
 
“Car coming this way down the alley; lights are off.”

I stepped to the window, holding the curtain open only as far as I needed to get a clear view.
 
A black shape eased to a stop behind the house.
 

Romeo whispered into his mic.
 
“I told my guys to turn the system back on.
 
Thieves get kind of twitchy when things aren’t as they expect.”

Doors opened, but the interior of the car remained dark.
 
Shadowy forms met at the hood of the car and then turned toward the house.
 
Flashlights darted and poked the darkness.
 
There were two of them, at least two that I could see.
 
“Let’s find a place to hide.”

CHAPTER NINE

F
LASH

Jeremy’s Hummer, black on black with dark tinted windows, hid us well as we idled through the warehouse district, a few weak bulbs over doors casting meager circles of light.
 
We clung to the shadows as we closed on the dots on the GPS tracker I held in my hand.
 
“A right at the next corner.
 
We’ll be one turn and two blocks away.
 
Building will be second one on the left after a left turn at the next stop.”

Jeremy pulled the big truck into the curb, using a construction dumpster to hide it from view.
 
“The rest of the way on foot.”

I slid out of the truck, landing on both feet, then shut the door, pressing it closed until I heard an almost inaudible click.
 
Meeting at the front of the truck, Jeremy gave me the once-over.
 
“You didn’t exactly dress for this.”

I glanced down at my Day-Glo pink.
 
“What self-respecting woman dresses to blend with the background?”

“Different jobs require different uniforms.”
 

“Find me a phone booth and I can change into my superhero tights and cape.”

“You sound like Lucky,” he whispered, then held up a finger for quiet.

Just like a man to get the last quip in and then end the battle.
 
I took his comment as a good thing, and I only hoped I had her moxie when the proverbial shit hit the fan.
 

He turned and walked down the street, keeping close to the buildings and out of the light.

I stopped him, pulling his ear close so I could whisper.
 
“What exactly are we looking for?”

He slowed only a little.
 
“A crime in progress.”

“Cool.”
 
I got that fluttery feeling in my stomach as I followed, practically stepping on his heels.
 
My last encounter in a dark alley had left me with a simmering case of unresolved red-ass.
 
Regardless, I clung to Jeremy—a man with a gun was a nice accessory when walking in on a crime.

A light shone from a single small window in the back of the large warehouse.
 
I could see the triangle splash on the alley from my vantage point crouched behind the dumpster to the side of the building near the street.
 
The bulb over the side door was burned out or gone, leaving a welcoming black hole.
 
In the weak moonlight I could see the name MEMORABILIA RARITIES painted in faded white block letters above the loading docks on the street side of the building.
 
The docks were quiet, empty of activity, the doors pulled down and presumably locked.

“The side door,” Jeremy whispered, giving voice to my opinion as well.

We crab-walked, scurrying from one shadow to another.
 
We stopped to take stock around the corner of the building from the door.
 

Jeremy pulled a set of picks out of his breast pocket.
 
“Stay here until I motion you to join me.”
 
Then he was gone.

Leaning away from the building, I could just make out his outline as he hunched over the lock.
 
A few moments that were probably seconds but seemed like hours, and he waved me on.

I’d just stepped out of the darkness when a hand clamped over my mouth.
 
A body pressed close to mine from behind.
 
A menacing voice whispered, “You move, your friend is dead.”

CHAPTER TEN

L
UCKY

Two of them.
 
Two of us.
 

Romeo shot me a glance as he unholstered his weapon.
 
I shook my head, then looked around at all the beautiful marble and glass.
 
He gave me a “seriously?” look.
 

“Can’t replace some of this stuff,” I whispered, thinking he needed a bit more convincing.

He put the gun away.
 
I grabbed two stone obelisks, handing him one, keeping the other.

From my vantage point tucked back into the closet, I kept my eye on the red light of the alarm control panel on the bathroom wall by the door.
 
Romeo hid himself in the thick brocade drapes next to the largest window in the bedroom and closest to the hall door.
 

The red light blinked, then changed to green.
 
They were in.

Footfalls sounded downstairs.
 
I cocked my head to listen.
 
A wood floor.
 
The ballroom.
 
They fell quiet.
 
The front hall—marble didn’t echo.
 
Then quieter still.
 
The carpeted staircase.
 
They knew exactly what they were looking for and where to find it.
 
Good job, Jeremy
.

F
LASH

The clammy hand.
 
The cheap cologne.
 

I stepped back into the guy, throwing my weight behind an elbow to his stomach.
 
Grunting in pain, he doubled over.
 
I gave him a backhand to the nose, which dropped him to his knees.

“Pismo, you dirty, double-crossing ass.”
 
My hands fisted in the fabric of his jacket, I yanked him to his feet.

He cupped his nose as blood leaked through his fingers.
 
His eyes wide with hurt, he looked at me.
 
“Shit, couldn’t you save the rough stuff for later?
 
I’m trying to help is all.”

“Later?”
 
His arrogance set my blood to simmering.
 
I glanced at the side door.
 
The door stood ajar.
 
Jeremy had disappeared.
 
“You’re here to help, are you?” I said, keeping my voice to a low hiss.
 
“You can start by telling me what’s going down inside.”
 
I let loose of Pismo, but stayed close in case he needed more convincing.

“They got a guy.
 
You’d be surprised at how good his forgeries are.
 
And how fast he can make them.
 
Little dude, covered in tats, a face that looks like adolescence wasn’t much fun.
 
He’s got skills though.”

I felt a frisson of recognition.
 
I lived in the alleys—that’s where the stories usually were, the good ones anyway.
 
“He got a name?”

“The guys call him Worm.”

“I know the guy.
 
He’s a genius.
 
Started in street art.
 
Heard he’d taken a ride on the meth train.
 
Pretty strung out.”

“Makes sense.”
 
Pismo showed a hint of concern—tiny, but it was there.
 
“I always thought the dude was on the right side.
 
I’m not sure he’s doin’ this making fakes thing because he wants to.”

We both crouched down and peered at the side door.
 
I was hoping for a sign from Jeremy, but he’d disappeared.
 
That gave me a hollow feeling in my chest.
 
This had the stench of a setup.
 
“The question is what are we going to do?”
 

“I got an answer,” a voice growled behind us.
 
“You two love birds, inside.” Pressman.
 

I leaned around Johnny Pismo, using his body as a shield and found myself staring into the deadly black hole of a short barrel.
 
The insurance weenie waggled the gun—nothing worse than a weenie with a gun and an axe to grind.
 
“Over there.
 
Follow your friend.
 
We’ve been expecting you.”

“A bunch of losers,” I growled.
 
“Clowns jumping out of boxes.
 
I can hardly wait to see who’s behind door number two.”

Pressman stepped in and threw an elbow, catching me across the temple.

I crumpled as my world went dark.

I thought I heard Johnny Pismo scream.

L
UCKY

I lost the guys coming up the stairs—one of the downsides to extra-plush carpeting—but I thought they’d slowed, were being careful.
 
The dim light leaking in through the windows helped, but it was still hard to see.
 
I squinted, focusing, watching for movement, afraid to breathe.

The fact that I’d done this sort of thing before made it worse rather than better.
 
I knew what was coming, what needed to be done, what could go wrong.
 
The obelisk weighed heavy in my hand.
 
Sweat slicked my palm.
 
My grip slipped.
 
I wiped my hand on the leg of my pants and then regripped the stone.

“They’ll be waiting in here.”
 
A dark form drifted across the doorway.

Waiting?
 
So they weren’t as dumb as we’d hoped.

A flash made me recoil.
 
Then a pop.
 
A chunk of marble shattered, splinters of stone zinging through the air.
 
Close, but not close enough to make me move.
 
Sweat? Yes.
 
Darn near pass out? Yes.
 
Move?
 
No.