Running Scared (36 page)

Las Vegas

November 5

Night

A
s Shane drove
swiftly down the Strip, rivers of colored lights flowed in silent glory over the windshield. He didn’t notice. To him the lights were like the night—just one more thing to get through before Risa was safe.

Niall glanced sideways with eyes as dark as the bottom of a well. “What if we lose the gold?”

“As long as we don’t lose Risa, I can live with whatever happens.”

“Yeah, I got that impression. So did Dana.” Niall smiled. “She told me you wouldn’t stay behind. Then she told me to stick to you like fresh shit on a hiking shoe.”

Shane didn’t say anything.

“I won’t get in your way, boyo.”

“Do what you have to do.”

Niall grimaced. He had worked with enough commando groups to recognize Shane’s state of mind. It was beyond anger, beyond rage. Take no prisoners didn’t even begin to describe it.

Men were never more dangerous than when they were cold and calm.

“If you tell me what you’re planning, I can help,” Niall said.

More silence.

Lights, buildings, and other cars flowed past in a rainbow river. Shane pushed the yellow on two stoplights and took the third red. He wasn’t careless about it, but he was quick.

Just when Niall thought he’d lost whatever trust the other man had had for him, Shane shifted his grip on the wheel and braked for a light that would have been too dangerous to run.

“I’m going to take Cherelle down before Risa gets there,” Shane said. “You want to help, fine. You want to get in my way, fine. Either way Cherelle goes down.”

“What are you going to do—kick in the door?”

“If I have to.”

“What if she’s armed?”

“So am I.”

“You think she killed that pawnbroker?” Niall asked.

“Possible, but not my first vote.”

“Socks?”

“Probably. Socks’s police profile shows someone with a ninety-one IQ and a short fuse.”

Shane switched off his headlights before he turned at the Midas Motel entrance. A glance at his watch told him he had perhaps six minutes to spare. He reached into his wallet, pulled out some twenties, and handed them to Niall.

“I might be recognized by the night clerk,” Shane said. “Damn all news photographers anyway.”

“Serves you right for having such a pretty face.”

Shane ignored him. “Can you find out if the room on either side of 121 is available?”

“Will you be here when I get back?”

“If I’m not, you know where to find me.”

Niall strode quickly into the office.

Shane didn’t wait to see about rooms, empty or otherwise. He left the car and walked along the bottom wing of the motel. If the parking lot and the amount of lights showing through room windows were any indication, the Midas Motel was on a steep downward slide toward bankruptcy or flophouse status.

The room to the right of 121 showed lights. The room to the left didn’t. The door lock on the left-hand room was the old-fashioned, nonelectronic kind. Easy, in a word. Shane pulled a credit card from his wallet, worked it between the door and the jamb, and finessed the lock in less time than it took for Niall to check in.

By the time Niall got to the room, the curtains were drawn, the lights were on, and the television was chattering loudly about the latest fashion trend—neon mesh underwear worn outside a black bodysuit. The door leading to the parking lot was slightly ajar. He didn’t knock and he didn’t lock the door behind him. They might want to get out in a hurry.

Shane was working on the inner door that opened into Room 121. The lock was proving much more difficult than the front-door lock had.

“Step aside, boyo.”

Shane looked over his shoulder. Niall had a tire iron in one hand and an assortment of lock picks in the other. Shane got out of his way.

“I didn’t see a good hiding place outside,” Shane said. “How about you?”

“That’s why I’m in here. We don’t have a lot of time. Dana and Risa are about two minutes away.”

“How do you know?”

“Cellular connection.”

For the first time Shane noticed the nearly transparent earpiece and cord that connected Niall to a cell phone in his rear pocket. “Is Dana giving you a running commentary?”

“Nothing so obvious. She just turned her phone up to max sensitivity and put it in her jacket pocket.”
Along with a gun, please God,
Niall added silently. Dana hated them, but he had made sure she knew how to use one. “Bugger!”

He switched lock picks and went back to work.

Shane stood to one side of the front window and watched for the flash of headlights entering the parking lot.

Las Vegas

November 5

Night

“R
ight at the intersection
after the next light,” Dana said.

Risa glanced in various mirrors as she braked for the yellow light.

“See anyone?” Dana asked.

“No.”

Dana could have told her she wouldn’t—not if the follower was Niall, at any rate.

Her cell phone beeped softly, warning her that a call was trying to come through the open line. With rapid motions Dana closed the connection to Niall and picked up the incoming call.

“Dana here. Make it fast.”

“This is Ian. Silverado hasn’t moved.”

“All right. Obviously we’re going to be first in. Risa will have my phone, so don’t call back.”

“Gotcha. Want me to come in?”

“Stay with Silverado.”

Dana broke the connection.

Risa glanced sideways. “What’s this about your cell phone?”

“It’s going in your pocket with an open connection to Niall,” Dana said, punching in numbers as she spoke. “That way he’ll at least know what you’re up against. Have you had any weapons training?”

“No.”

“Unarmed combat?”

“No.”

“As soon as this mess is cleared up, report to Niall for both. I won’t have my staff ignorant of self-defense when their jobs put them in situations like the one you’re in tonight.”

Risa blew out a breath and didn’t argue. Right now the few nasty little tricks she had left over from a rough childhood didn’t seem like much of a shield against Socks or whoever had killed O’Conner and Cline.

Glancing at her watch, Risa silently willed the light to turn green. Eventually it did.

“How are we for time?” Dana asked.

“Five minutes.”

Dana looked at the map she had printed off a Net site. “We’re fine even if we hit a few more red lights. Go left at the next corner. After one mile the motel should be on the right about two-thirds of the way down the block.”

Risa turned left.

No one else did.

The closer Risa and Dana came to the motel address, the less traffic there was. The distant, glittering Strip was a magnet sucking all the money away from this part of Las Vegas. The businesses that could move to the Strip did. The rest began a steep and dusty decline.

“When you make the turn at the motel, find the room and then back into a nearby slot,” Dana said. “Turn out the lights and leave the engine running. When you come out to get the money, you won’t see me, but I’ll be behind the wheel. If you don’t like what you see when you walk in the room, turn around and get out
now.
Clear?”

“What about the gold?”

Dana was counting on Niall to take care of any gold artifacts that were lying about, but she didn’t think Risa was ready to hear that. Nor had Dana mentioned that there was a quicker way to the motel. They had been given fifteen minutes; Niall would need every second of it for whatever scheme his devious and yet breathtakingly pragmatic mind had hatched.

“We know who Cherelle is,” Dana said. “We’ll find her again.”

Risa’s fingers flexed and released on the steering wheel. The quality of Dana’s voice said more than words about what she thought of Cherelle Faulkner’s chances of getting away from a full Rarities search.

“Okay,” Risa said. “You worry about the gold, and I’ll turn and run if I don’t like the setup.”
And if I can.
“I have to admit that I’m beginning to see the appeal of self-defense training.”

“From what I saw on the casino tape, you have the first requirement for coming out on top.”

“Speed?” Risa asked dryly.

“Brains. You never stopped thinking.”

“Cold sweat must lubricate the mind.”

Dana laughed. “Niall will enjoy that one.”

“Good for him. I sure didn’t.”

The gold neon crown that marked the Midas Motel rose along the right side of the road like a dusty, gap-toothed smile. When she saw it, Risa’s heart slammed, then settled into a different, more rapid beat. She could feel adrenaline lighting up her blood, making colors clearer, more vivid, and each sound as crisp as glass breaking.

“Remember,” Dana said as she slid down below the dashboard. “If it’s a setup, forget the gold and
get out
.”

Las Vegas

November 5

Night

S
hane didn’t bother
to ask how it was going. The steady, whispering stream of curses told him that Niall was making progress, but not nearly as much as he wanted. One of the interconnecting doors was open. The other wasn’t.

Stone green eyes glanced from the hinges on the offending door to the tire iron at Niall’s feet and then back out the slit in the curtains to the parking lot. If they had to, they could wrench the door off its hinges in a few seconds flat. But that would make a lot of noise. Better to unlock the damned thing and take Cherelle by surprise.

The car that had just come in reversed, backed into a nearby slot, and shut off the lights.

“They’re here,” Shane said.

Niall grunted.

“What’s the deal?” Shane asked.

“Risa goes in, looks, and if she doesn’t like it—
bugger all lazy maintenance men, this sodding lock needs oil!
—she leaves to get the money from the car and doesn’t fucking come back.”

Shane’s only answer was the blue-steel gun that appeared in his fist. He put his hand on the front door, ready to yank it open. “Tell me when.”

Las Vegas

November 5

Night

C
herelle jumped every time
lights flashed in the parking lot. Since the motel apparently was letting out rooms by the half hour, there were more vehicles coming and going than there were cars staying in place for an all-night rental.

“Come on, come
on
! It’s been twenty minutes, for Chrissake. Where you at, Silverado? Where’s all that sweet cash?”

Cherelle wanted the money so bad she could taste it. As she paced past the dresser, she reached for another warm beer—warm because the room didn’t have anything as fancy as a small refrigerator. Against her clammy fingers the can felt almost hot, almost fragile, like life.

The thought made her pause. She decided she should wait before she had any more beer. She was drinking too fast, even though she couldn’t feel a damn thing.

After chewing on her raw mouth, she put the can down without opening it.

On the next circuit of the room she picked up the can and ripped open the tab so fast that foam shot over her knuckles. As she licked it off her hand, the beer tasted like sweat and piss, but alcohol would help dull the raw edge of her nerves.

Lights swept over the closed curtains. Breath held, she waited. From next door the sound of some kind of sports show poured out in a wave of cheers and boos that peaked quickly and faded. The neighbor on the other side of her room was trying to hammer some working girl through the headboard, urged on by throaty groans scripted with an eye toward a big tip.

The car turned toward the opposite side of the lot.

A fresh round of cheers drowned out the fake passion. The
whumpa-whumpa-whumpa
of headboard slamming into wall continued. For an instant Cherelle pitied the poor whore who had taken on a jackhammer for a client. Of all the johns, they were the worst. Give her a sixty-second man anytime.

At first Cherelle thought the knocking sound she was hearing was a continuation of the sex next door. Then she realized it was her own front door.

“Who is it?”

“Risa.”

“Wait.”

Cherelle went to the door, peered out the cloudy peephole, and saw nothing useful. Leaving the chain on, she opened the door just enough to see that Risa was standing there alone. Quickly Cherelle shut the door, released the chain, and opened the door again. As soon as Risa was inside, she put the chain back on.

A fast look told Risa the room was empty of all but Cherelle and the gold artifacts laid out carelessly across one bed. She walked close enough to focus on first one and then the other, taking pictures as fast as she could. The lighting was awful. Even if it hadn’t been, Dana had made it clear that she was supposed to find a way to check out the bathroom.

“I need better light,” Risa said.

“Shit. Try the toilet. Light over the can’s pretty good.”

Risa scooped up gold at random, walked past the bed, and into a short, offset passageway that boasted a few hangers on one side and a sink on the other. The bathroom was just beyond. A brief look around didn’t show anything unexpected. Toilet. Tub/shower.

She dropped the toilet lid with her elbow, spread out the pieces of gold . . .

And forgot to breathe. Dagger and sheath gleaming with ancient ritual. A torc made of braided gold chains that radiated power like heat off a fire. A golden god-mask looking through time into man’s shadowed soul. The sight of the gold was so mesmerizing that Risa had to force herself not to fall into the deep past, where Druid gold was the burning center of death and renewal.

Forcing herself to move, Risa turned toward Cherelle, who had followed her partway out of the main room. From her position at the head of the passageway, Cherelle could see both the front door and Risa.

Risa could see only Cherelle. She was watching Risa with a stranger’s eyes, brittle and calculating. Strung out. There was no point in trying to reach whatever was left of her friend beneath the hard surface. The Cherelle that Risa remembered wasn’t there.

All that was left was the money and the gold.

“I’m amazed,” Risa said. “All that gold and you don’t even have a gun.”

“Brains are better than guns any day.”

“So where’s Gail? You’re all alone here.”

“You snooze, you lose. She just lost. Where’s the money?”

The front door crashed inward, gunshots exploded, glass shattered.

Cherelle staggered toward Risa and went to her knees in a bright burst of blood. “Baby-chick? What happened?” She shook her head and tried to brace herself against her palms.
“No. Not like this. I’m too smart.”