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“Daddy.” Lila’s voice, pitched low and oddly menacing, cuts through the noise of the boardwalk. “Leave Cassel alone.”
Lila steps up from the beach. For a moment I see her as he must, half ghost and half stranger. She’s a woman, not the child that he lost, but her cruel mouth is identical to his own.
Besides, there can’t be that many people with a single blue eye and a single green one.
He blinks. Then he takes off his sunglasses slowly. “Lila?” He sounds as brittle as glass.
The guy relaxes his grip, and I jerk away from him. I try to rub some feeling back into my arms.
“I hope you trust your men,” she says. Her voice breaks. “Because this is secret. I am a secret.”
“I’m sorry,” says Mr. Zacharov. “I didn’t think you were real—” He reaches out gloved hands toward her.
She just stands there, bristling, like she’s fighting something wild inside her. She doesn’t go to him.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say, touching her arm. “We’ll get this sorted out in private.”
Zacharov looks at me like he can’t quite remember who I am.
“Inside,” I say.
The two big guys in long coats seem relieved to have something to do.
“People are looking,” one of them says, putting his hand on Mr. Zacharov’s back and steering him into the casino.
The other glances at me warily. Lila takes my gloved hand and gives him a cold look that I’m grateful for. He backs off, hanging behind us as we head into Taj Mahal.
I raise my eyebrows at Lila.
“You have a real talent for getting your ass kicked,” she says.
No one questions us as we walk across the casino floor and get into the elevator.
The raw emotion on Zacharov’s face is something private—something I know he wouldn’t want me to see. I wonder if I should try to leave, but Lila’s gloved hand is clutching mine hard enough to hurt. I try to keep my gaze trained above the elevator doors, watching the numbers go up and up and up.
In the suite there’s a wood-paneled wall with a single flat screen, a leather divan, and a bowl of fresh hydrangeas on a low table. The place is enormous, cavernous, with massive windows open to show the expanse of ink black ocean beyond. One of the big guys throws his coat over a chair and lets me see the guns strapped underneath his arms and across his back. More guns than he’s got hands.
Zacharov pours pale liquid into cut glass and throws it back. “You two want a drink?” he says to us. “Minibar is full of Cokes.”
I get up.
“No,” he says. “I am your host.” He nods to one of his men. The man grunts and moves to the refrigerator.
“Just water,” Lila says.
“Some aspirin,” I say.
“Oh, come on,” the guy says as he hands over the glasses and the pills. “I didn’t hurt you that bad.”
“Nope,” I say. “You didn’t.” I chew three aspirins and try to lean back against the pillows in a way that doesn’t make me want to scream.
“You go down to the casino,” Zacharov tells the guys. “Win some money.”
“Sure thing,” one says. He gets his coat again and they head slowly for the door. Zacharov looks at me like he wants to ask me to join them.
“Cassel,” he says, “how long have you known the location of my daughter?”
“About three days,” I say.
