Dark Valentine (28 page)

“We should have stayed in bed,” she said. “In Denver. For the whole two weeks.”

“Yes.” Rhianna rested her head against Jules’s shoulder and drank in her scent. She felt warm and contented.

Jules kissed her hair, “When I said I would take good care of you, I meant it.”

“Why?” Rhianna asked. “I mean why would you ask me to live with you? We’re virtual strangers.”

“I think that’s relative. Some people live together for years without sharing what you and I share.” She hesitated. “I know there’s supposed to be someone for everybody, but I’ve never believed that. Then I met you and it made me wonder. I’ve never felt close to any woman the way I feel close to you. So the idea of us living together wasn’t such a huge leap.”

“I thought you offered out of guilt.”

“No,” she said with certainty. “I felt some responsibility, but the truth is I asked you for selfish reasons. I couldn’t bear to walk away and never explore this…magic between us.”

Rhianna let herself relax, nuzzling Jules’s neck, holding her close. Magic—yes. “People talk about recognizing each other the first time they meet,” she said. “Having a feeling that they belong together and always have, because they were lovers in a past life.” She trailed off, thinking she probably sounded flaky.

To her surprise, Jules lifted a hand to her cheek and said, “No one can prove them right or wrong. The jury is out.”

“What do you believe?”

“I believe in evidence. My feelings are real, whether or not I can explain them. I don’t know why I think you and I have a role to play in each other’s lives, but I do.”

“I feel that, too.”

They stared at each other, and Rhianna was strangely aware of cogs shifting inside. Her anxieties subsided. The unease that accompanied her frantic physical longings seemed to fade. She felt calm and self-possessed, and with her mind free of clutter, a knee-buckling thought surfaced. She could fall in love with Jules.

She gazed into eyes that seemed too wise for a face so young. Jules was looking at her, really looking. People seldom did that. A stare invited too much guesswork and implied too much familiarity. Lingering looks were the rightful domain of lovers, cats, and mothers with infants.

Jules said, “It’s too soon for us to talk about love. But the
possibility
of love…” Her smile was intimate. “Why not lay claim to that?”

They held each other for a short while, then by unspoken agreement committed themselves to the task of getting to Laughlin. They assembled suitcases, toys, baby paraphernalia, and Hadrian in the rear courtyard where they could not be seen. Jules said they had to assume someone was watching.

She wanted Brigham to see Percy leaving in his truck, followed by the Mercedes. They would drive to Oatman, pick up some supplies, and Percy would return to the ranch. She wondered what Brigham would make of her presence. He had to know, after her threat, that she was not neutral and she was not on his side.

Chapter Sixteen

Had they been followed? Jules wondered. A blue-gray Chevy Trailblazer had gradually closed in on the Mercedes when they stopped a few miles out of town to let the stagecoach by. The car had tracked them down Route 66, through rugged yellow canyons and hairpin bends that slowed the pace of the drive to a crawl. Every vehicle on the narrow, twisting two-lane blacktop rode its brakes. Most stopped at the pullouts that dotted the route, their nervous drivers parking carelessly trying to avoid scary cliff edges, then wandering along the side of the road, cameras stuck to their faces as they recorded their Wild West adventure.

Between slowing to avoid running these city slickers over and swerving around crows pecking at roadkill, Jules had plenty of time to notice the Trailblazer maintaining a constant distance all the way to Bullshead City. She lost sight of the SUV there and had not seen it since. She had tried to get a look at the driver, but the Trailblazer never came close enough. She wasn’t sure why her neck prickled at the sight of that vehicle and no other, but she paid attention to her instincts. They seldom let her down.

There was no sign of the vehicle as they drove through Laughlin, however, and she reasoned that there was nothing sinister about one car among many stuck in a single lane of traffic, with every motorist headed for the same destination. The driver was probably feeding quarters into a slot machine by now.

When they finally reached the Mosses’ “small” casino, Jules understood why Rhianna’s employers could count petty mobsters among their friends. The Enchanted Palace was situated on the banks of the Colorado River not far from Harrah’s. Like every establishment of its ilk, it reeked of stale cigarette smoke, alcohol, and hopelessness. Not even the most dogged air-conditioning and chemical cleaning agents could lighten the atmospheric load.

As soon as the revolving doors disgorged her into the noisy lobby, Jules was walloped by the closeness of the air, the low ceiling, the jostling crowd, and the random cacophony of flashing lights and casino noise. She had not thought to take one of her mild relaxants; she usually reserved medication for the special torture of air travel.

“We get to use the owners’ suite, thank goodness,” Rhianna said as they proceeded toward the elevators. “The hotels along this strip are all dreadful and, whatever you do, don’t eat the buffet.”

Jules distracted herself from the din and the pervasive tinge of body odor by finding small denominations to tip the bellboy. She followed this mechanical task with one of her self-calming strategies, visualizing a tranquil pool with a waterfall spilling from it in an endless rainbow-hued cascade.

The elevator was a cramped steel prison but, thankfully, they were its sole occupants. As they rode up, Rhianna hummed to Alice and kept casting appreciative looks in Jules’s direction. Evidently, she’d scored points with the location change.

The Mosses’ apartment was a spacious suite of rooms with calming views of the river. Jules stood at the windows, slowing her breathing and waiting for her tension to dissipate.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Rhianna sighed.

“Yes.” Jules wanted to kiss her, and ruffle her fingers in the short blond hair she was still getting used to.

Rhianna leaned against the back of a sofa immediately behind her. Alice was draped over her shoulder, sound asleep. If all toddlers were so placid, Jules thought she wouldn’t mind having several kids, assuming domestic bliss was in her future. The odds seemed better than they’d ever been.

She stretched out a hand and petted the slumbering child’s back. “She’s very sweet.”

“She’s a doll.” Rhianna smiled a stunning, carefree smile. “Excuse me a minute. I need to put her to bed. Take a look around if you want. Help yourself to drinks. There’s a fridge in the bar.”

Jules thanked her and found a bottle of Evian. She sat down on one of several ivory leather sofas arranged for the view, sipped some water, then took out her cell phone. After checking in with Percy, she called Gilbert Desjardines.

“What do we know about the two goons Brigham assaulted?” she asked. “Are they cooperating?”

“I got Damonique monitoring that situation,” Gil said. “I think we’re good.”

“Excellent. What are they looking for?”

“Fifty each.”

“I’m hearing things,” Jules scoffed. “These tough guys are supposed to lean on Brigham. They screw up, and he puts them in the hospital. They want fifty apiece for a police statement?”

“Pain and suffering. That’s their story.”

“They don’t know the meaning of pain.” Jules wished Rhianna’s bosses had been less scrupulous. Paying a couple of enforcers to talk sense into Brigham without beating him up was naïve. “Tell them for fifty they have to testify, and if I hear Audrey Brigham has bought them off, they’re going down. I’ll dig up every mistake they ever made.”

“Mrs. Brigham. Phew. That’s one pissed-off lady.”

Intrigued, Jules asked, “What do you know about her?”

“Your boss damn near shit himself.” Gil had to take a moment to quit snickering. He always loved it when Carl wasn’t happy. “She asked him to hire some dude to ice the girl. Make it look like an accident.”

Audrey Brigham was trying to have Rhianna killed? Jesus. “Carl’s not planning to do anything about it, is he?”

“Hell, no. He asks me to go see her and act like I’m the man. So, I’m wired and sitting across from her after a fine pork chop, and she’s telling me about her problem, and how it needs taking care of so her son can get on with his lame-ass life.”

“You have Audrey Brigham on tape trying to arrange a hit?”

“I sure do.”

Jules grinned. Carl was a master of leverage. What was poor little Werner going to do when Mommy couldn’t save his ass anymore. “That’s good news,” she conceded.

“Where you at, anyway?” Gil asked.

“Laughlin, Nevada,” Jules said. “It sucks, and I need a blond wig. Any ideas?”

“They got showgirls there?”

“You’re a genius.”

“What you up to?” Gil’s tone came fitted with a built-in warning. He was a man who had seen it all and spent his life investigating screwups.

“Bait and switch,” Jules told him with a casual air. “If you don’t hear from me by tomorrow morning, call the Mohave County Sheriff. Ask him to send a car to that address in Oatman I gave you.”

The P.I. made a sound like a dog whining. “You high?”

Jules said. “No, just taking care of business.”

“Okay. Hit me with your crazy-white-girl plan.”

“Thanks for the support. It’s very simple. Werner Brigham will sneak into the house and I’ll be waiting for him.”

Gil sighed loudly. “I’m not coming to any memorial service. You got that?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Who’s your backup?” he asked.

“A decrepit cowboy, a deaf dog, and a ton of hardware.”

“I got a bad feeling.”

“You always have a bad feeling. You’re a pessimist. That’s why they give you Prozac.”

“Don’t do this thing,” Gil said dourly.

“I’ll let you know how it pans out.” Jules said good-bye over his protests and dropped her cell phone into her pants pocket.

She wandered around the huge suite and found her lover in a bedroom. With a finger to her kissable lips, Rhianna backed away from the bed and joined Jules in the hallway.

“She was a little carsick, so she’s clingy.”

“You’re good with her.” Something came over Jules then, and she sappily pictured herself and Rhianna peering into a bassinette several years into a rosy future.
Get a grip,
she thought, and asked the question uppermost on her mind. “Does your boss hire showgirls?”

Rhianna frowned like Jules had just suggested they take in a strip joint while they were in the big city. “Yes, why?”

“I need some help with a project I’m working on,” Jules replied vaguely.

She had decided the less Rhianna knew, the better. She and Alice were safe, and Jules didn’t want her sitting up all night, phoning every ten minutes to check in with her.

“Bonnie is friends with one of the women who does the early evening show here,” Rhianna said. “She’s probably in the dressing room by now. If you go backstage in the theater, it’s on your left past all the props.”

“I’ll find her.” Jules produced a nonchalant smile and started toward the door.

“Jules?” Rhianna’s suspicion was transparent. “What are you doing?”

A good question and one Jules had hoped to avoid. “Come sit down with me for a minute,” she requested gloomily. She would now lose the next hour trying to convince Rhianna that they would have to catch Brigham themselves, or he would evade the authorities and she would never be safe.