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49
Palm Beach, Florida
SUNDAY EVENING
Rich Doulos shrieked into the phone, “What do you mean it was an accident? How the hell did they escape?”
“It was no one’s fault,” Nero said and Rich heard it in his voice, a sort of contempt, as if explaining to the man paying him bored him to tears. “Yeah? So how did this accident happen?”
“Domino gave up her gun. And then she told them where our men were to save her own skin.”
Nero’s cold, calculating voice enraged Doulos more. He knew his life would be over if the two women led anyone to Williard House. Rich tried to calm his voice, but it was hard. He gritted his teeth. “When I hired you, you assured me I had nothing to worry about, that you’d take care of everything. The women were locked in the freaking basement at Williard House and they couldn’t get out. So tell me exactly how this could have happened. And exactly where were you, Nero?”
Again, there was no deference, no apology in Nero’s voice, only the voice of a reasonable man to an unreasonable boss. “Look, Mr. Doulos, none of what happened matters now. The FBI agent got hold of a gun and trained it on Domino, threatened to kill her if she didn’t give hers up. Would you prefer the bitch shot Domino?”
Rich started to tell him that’s not what he asked him, when Nero added, “That’s not all. The agent shot Ilic in the knee when she and the Hunt woman were escaping, and when Stankovic tried to stop them, the agent killed him. Only Caruso can walk.” A slight pause, the whiff of contempt. “And Domino, of course, but she proved she’s next to useless.”
If Nero were here, Doulos would shoot him without a moment’s hesitation. “That’s rich. What planet do you live on? Domino’s worth both of your men, worth more than you unless you can get those women back. Get after them, Nero. I expect to see them locked once again in the basement game room when I get there. You will call me back in an hour and it had better be good news.”
Rich Doulos contacted his pilot, gave him orders. He was pacing in his study, back and forth over the rich Aubusson carpet, wondered if he’d walk a hole in the damned thing. It would serve his bitch of a mother right. She’d given his brother, Timothy, the family house when Timmy married the woman his mother had picked out for him, and she’d moved this moth-eaten old rug to his house. He wanted to burn it, but of course he couldn’t because she’d notice. He laughed again to himself. He couldn’t wait to tell her what he thought about the fricking carpet, tell her what he thought about a lot of things, when this was all over and he didn’t need either the rug or her any longer. Rich stopped pacing to stare again at his cell phone sitting on a pile of papers atop his desk. He sat down and tried to calm himself. His knee started to bounce. His knee bounced whenever he was nervous, ever since high school when a jock and his buddy had beaten him bloody because he’d flirted with his girlfriend. It was the last time the jocks had laid a hand on him, and the first time he’d realized what having real money meant. He’d paid to have both of them mugged in Slater Park near Lake Ragoon, a dangerous enough place after dark. They stole their wallets and broke the jock’s legs, so he couldn’t play football anymore. He’d survived and so had Rich. So his leg still bounced now and then, up and down, a reminder of that beating he took. The jock sure couldn’t do anything with either of his legs for a very long time. It was a good memory. Then he saw Eve lightly press her palm against his leg when it started to bounce.
He closed his eyes. He hadn’t planned any of this before it was forced on him by his debts. It had been sheer bad luck because he was an expert on the odds, he’d learned them on his grandfather’s knee, and he was good at gambling. Who could have planned on sheer bad luck? And his precious mother, who’d never forgiven him for paying off one of his debts with company money, wouldn’t even give him a chance to prove himself to her again though she knew he had her clients eating out of his hand, unlike his stolid colossal bore of a brother.
Rich saw Eve again in his mind’s eye, remembered the moment she’d laughed up at him at the roulette wheel, asked him to give her the odds of rolling a red twenty-one. He had, and she’d won. She’d kissed him in front of everyone, told him how much fun his little gambling club was. His little gambling club?
They’d been apart for two weeks now. It was her turn to fly here on Wednesday. He’d never forget he’d taken one look at Eve in Exotica and decided he wanted her. When he’d found out who she was, who her father was, he gave up the idea of making her his lover. He courted her and married her in a lovely ceremony on the beach, with the famous Rule Shaker of Las Vegas giving her away. He knew Shaker had done a deep dive on him, from his first-grade report card to his import/export business and his finances at Exotica, but Rich’s prime hacker had hidden any traces that might make Shaker’s eyebrow go up and so the king had approved. His mother was aloof and cold to Eve, the witch even bad-mouthed her to Rich again the morning of their wedding. “She’s a tramp, Richard. It doesn’t matter she’s got a degree in economics and pretends she’s cultured. She’s still the daughter of a mobster who runs casinos in Las Vegas. Her sister was murdered by another mobster. She will ruin you, Richard, can’t you see that?”
He’d wanted to shove her to the floor, but of course, he couldn’t, the witch would disown him. He told her calmly Eve was everything he wanted, and she’d misjudged her because Eve was beautiful.
“You’re a fool, Richard, just like your father was,” she’d said, shaking her head at him. “Thank goodness I have Timmy. He’s worth ten of you.”
He wanted to tell her Timmy was her puppet, common with no imagination, but Rich only stared at her, his hands flexing. He thought again she might disown him, he felt the threat beating in the air, but he realized she couldn’t, it would hurt her company’s reputation.
He remembered how hopeful he’d been when he married Rule Shaker’s only living child. It was his chance to get out from under his bitch of a mother, away from his pious brother. Eve was beautiful and smart, sure, but she still wasn’t in his league; she couldn’t be, she was still only a woman. He knew the gambling business better than she ever could. Didn’t he run his own private club? Best of all, he was now a member of Rule Shaker’s own family. Shaker would recognize his gifts, his talents. He’d use Rich, promote him, and eventually give him the kind of power he’d always wanted.
A year had passed and none of that had happened. He finally had to admit Eve was the only help Shaker needed, or wanted.
He’d never forget telling Eve while on their honeymoon to Cypress how well he would fit into her father’s empire, how he couldn’t wait to prove himself. She’d kissed him, patted his hand, and told him not to worry about the casinos in Las Vegas, she and her father had all the help they needed. He’d thought about killing the old man until he found out how dangerous the Shakers were. Eve had confided in him about the long-standing bloodshed between her father and Mason Lord, escalating to Emma Hunt’s abduction, Eve’s dead sister, Mason Lord’s dead son-in-law, and Mason Lord himself almost killed. Eve had also told him how Lord’s daughter, Molly Hunt, had stopped the violence in its tracks.
Eve had no idea she’d given Rich enough to start crafting his plan. He saw breaking the Shaker/Lord truce as his chance, maybe his only chance, to cut the Shakers’ reins of power in Las Vegas. It would be a coup, and Mason Lord would do it for him. Rich would be safe from any retaliation. Maybe it was a long shot, but he was a gambler, and he rarely lost. He didn’t plan on losing this game, either. If Eve survived, she would need him, welcome him in. And he’d take control, of her and the casinos. He, Rich Doulos, would depose the king. It was then he’d set his plan into motion. He wondered what Eve would do when she found out he had his own plans for their future.
When his cell phone finally rang, Rich lunged to grab it. “Domino? Why didn’t Nero call? Do you have the women?”
Domino said, shock clear in her voice, “He’s dead.”
“Who’s dead? What happened?”
“I have the women, but Nero’s dead. We chased them down in the SUV after they escaped. Nero thought he’d killed the FBI agent, but when he walked up to her she flipped over and shot him in the neck. He was a fool. But I got them both, Rich, and took them back to Williard House.”
As much as he despised the man, it was still hard to believe Nero could get suckered like that. He was so rational, cold, and calculating enough to freeze blood. Domino had told him Nero had shot Pope without a second thought. How could that soulless killer have let himself get fooled? He remembered he himself had told Nero not to kill the FBI agent in Washington for the simple reason Rich thought it would bring too much attention, too much publicity, not to mention the force of the FBI. All right, so that had been a mistake, a big one. He should have told Nero to shoot her in the head along with Pope, leave her with him in the trunk of the limo.
But it was over. Nero was dead. Rich wasn’t going to let things spiral out of control again. He hadn’t wanted to go up to Williard House, but he’d realized he’d have to see to things himself, make sure everything was done right. And then it would be over. He steadied himself. “Lock them up, Domino, but this time keep your distance and make sure the FBI agent is secured so she doesn’t get the drop on you again.”
“Is that what the bastard told you? She never got the drop on me, Rich, it was Nero. She threatened to shoot him if I didn’t drop my gun. I wish I’d let her. He treated us all like his lackeys, even me. He was so bloody convinced he was better than anyone else, only what he said counted. And look what all his conceit got him, a bullet in the neck by someone smarter. The agent took him down twice. The first time in the basement, he wanted to get in her face, threaten her. She put him down and the two women escaped.” Domino drew a breath, slowed down. “And then he underestimated her again, and she killed him.”
So Nero had lied to him. Was he surprised? He supposed he was because the man’s reputation had been sterling.
When she spoke again, Domino’s voice was urgent. “Rich, you are coming up here now, aren’t you? I have only Caruso really because the agent shot Ilic in the knee. Nero told you she killed Stankovic, right?”
