Lucky Bang (12 page)

I didn't make the same promise about myself.

Jerry's security walkie-talkie jumped to life. "Sir, Mr. Rothstein is back on the property."

Jerry grabbed the device and pushed to talk. "Location?"

"Service elevator six. He's headed to the roof."

I glanced at my watch. Almost nine.

The fireworks were just about to start.

***

A symphony of voices—a melody pitched on an undercurrent of excitement—greeted me as I strode out of the elevator and into the crowd gathered, drinks in hand, in Babel, our rooftop club. The Big Boss was up here somewhere. His presence was a sure sign Albert Campos was also wandering among the crowd of innocents. But where?

My gaze swept the crowd in front of me. The heat of the day had yet to fully yield to the refreshing temps of night in the high desert. Daylight, caught in death throes, fractured into vibrant oranges and pinks on the horizon, just above the dark outline of the Spring Mountains. With Dane and Jeremy sticking close, I moved to the bar and rounded up the staff as quickly as I could.

Our head bartender, Sean, could tell it was serious with one look. His grin vanished and he rallied the staff out of earshot of the partiers. God, had I really bemoaned all those bomb-scare drills we'd suffered through? Never again.

Surrounded by the staff—really just kids in too little clothing—I went into my spiel. I remember the bomb squad guys telling us that maintaining calm was the key. That and maybe not throwing up. God, if a bomb went off… I slammed my brain closed on that visual and focused. "Listen up, folks," I said, trying to keep my voice low yet loud enough to be heard. "This is not one of those drills. This is the real thing. You know what to do. Clear the area. Move everyone downstairs. Use the service elevators as well, just like we practiced. Got it?"

They filtered into the crowd.

I grabbed Dane and Jeremy. "You two make sure all the guests are out, then escort all the employees to the ground floor." I looked at first one, then the other. "I'm counting on you."

They both nodded. I could tell they wanted to argue, but they didn't.

Romeo with the SWAT team was guarding all exits—I could hear him giving orders through the earpiece I had stuck in my left ear. He'd thought it wise that I could keep track of his whereabouts, which was out of character. Wise to his games, I wasn't fooled—he wanted me listening so he could give me orders. But I could talk back. Not only could I hear, but I could communicate through a tiny mic on a stalk extending from the earpiece around toward my mouth. "Romeo, you there?"

"Right here."

"Dane and Jeremy will be coming down with the employees after all the guests are out.. I want you to keep the two of them there. Neither you nor I want a couple of Lone Rangers riding into this showdown."

"You got it."

I could hear him give instructions to his officers.

The bomb squad was waiting in the wings for…well, for a bomb—although I caught sight of a few teams of two agents, each team with a dog. The sooner we found that dynamite, the better for my blood pressure. I'm sure I wasn't alone in that.

And I needed to find the Big Boss. Campos had lured him up here, of that I was sure. Campos also knew I'd be up here manning the fireworks display. Guess the guy had picked his O.K. Corral—a showdown, which had its upside. If I was right, then I had time to clear the roof. As Jimmy G had said, this was personal.

Jerry would be leading several details of security personnel up through the staff elevators onto the roof outside the confines of the club. Although I couldn't see them, I knew they would be there, searching just like me as I made my way toward the dais near the command module for the fireworks. I strained to catch a glimpse of the Big Boss through the crowd as it oozed toward the exits. Xavier materialized out of the crowd that was moving reluctantly toward the elevators. "Lucky, girl. Where the hell you been?"

Surprise brought me up short. I hadn't seen him. Apparently my eyes were tracking higher. "As if you didn't know."

"What're you talking about?"

Okay, maybe he didn't know. I grabbed his shoulder, wheeled him around, and propelled him back toward the control console for the fireworks as I filled him in on the missing dynamite.

"One stick of dynamite. Not enough to even dampen enthusiasm around here," said the man used to playing with things that went boom.

"But enough to get someone's attention." We stopped at the console. "Xavier, tell your men to leave. You should get out of here, too. It's not safe."

Xavier nodded at his men who had overheard. They silently filed past, heading toward the service elevator. We both crawled around the dais looking for any evidence of a bomb. We didn't find one. Damn.

With the all clear, Xavier stepped up onto the dais, manning the console. With the sun now below the horizon, natural light faded fast. We'd killed the breaker to the lights up here so no one could accidentally trip the switch and ruin the show. In retrospect, that probably wasn't a great idea. My eyes were adjusting, but it was hard to penetrate the growing darkness. Even the dim glow from the fish tank under the Lucite dance floor had been killed.

With one hand shielding my eyes, I peered into the gloom. "I can't see a thing."

Strains of music—the score to our fireworks show—filtered through the speakers.

"I can give you light," Xavier said, raising his voice to be heard as the music swelled, building toward the first salvo. "Intermittent, and only thirty minutes of it."

We'd established that the Big Boss wasn't in the club. But service elevator six came up to this wing of the rooftop. He had to be somewhere shrouded under the cover of night. I scanned the far reaches of the roof, trying to penetrate the darkness. "Go for it."

Xavier turned his attention to the console in front of him as I stepped to the railing separating the club from the rest of the roof, climbed over, and eased into the darkness.

The first shell exploded out of its mortar with a huge boom, jolting me to my core. Then a few seconds later, it burst overhead in a shower of light. Instinctively, my eyes shut in defense against the assault. I forced them open, scanning the rooftop in the dissipating light from above, my eyes tearing.

Nothing. No movement. The glow faded as I moved carefully further out onto the rooftop. Vaguely, I became aware of the music and the muted noise of the crowd lining the Strip far below.

Stilling my body, I prepared for the next launch. This time, the sound didn't make me jump…much. Desperate to make each second count, I forced my eyes open, waiting for the light. The second boom high above thrummed through me, then a tear-inducing brightness. Through narrowed eyes, I tried to calmly scan the rooftop, focusing a few seconds on one ten-degree quadrant at a time out of the 180 degrees in front of me.

This time, I thought I saw movement. I stilled and tunneled my vision.

Yes. Two figures. One tall and lean. On short, hunched over. As if in pain. Moving away from me.

The embers burned out and darkness once again engulfed the rooftop.

I waited. My heart pounding. Then I whispered into my mic. "Romeo. I got them." Breathlessly I explained, using as few words as possible. "Campos has the Big Boss. And I think he has a gun."

"I'll send some guys up in the service elevator."

"Tell them subtle, Romeo, okay?"

"Lucky, it's my job."

"Romeo, it's my father."

Another launch out of the tube behind me caught me off guard and I flinched. The music grew louder. Nothing like a techno-pop soundtrack as my life played out in flashes of light and spikes of adrenaline. Had I been picking the music, I would've thought of a better song than
Thanks for the Memories
redone by someone who sounded a bit like Nicki Minaj—and who had the same potty-mouth.

Prepared, I moved quickly through the burst of light, this time a kaleidoscope of colors. Adrenaline appeared to be the antidote to bump and bruises. My body didn't give me any lip as I stepped lightly over various pipes and around small electrical junction boxes, closing the gap. The light once again faded. I paused, gathering myself, then launched again into the next explosion of light. Through a few more cycles, like a stop-and-start dance, I weaved my way, drawing closer.

Crouching behind some electrical thing, I eased my head around in the fading glow. Albert indeed had my father…the other Albert. The young man pressed my father down, forcing him to sit on one of the many boxes similar to but smaller than the one I hid behind. I guessed the young man had summoned the Big Boss, then jumped him. Whispering, I gave the location to Romeo. Although he didn't respond, Jerry would be listening in as well.

Mentally following the chatter in my ear, I tried to visualize where Romeo wanted everyone.

"Lucky, I know you're out there," Campos called out.

A body hurtled in next to me, crouching to remain hidden. A hand grabbed my arm. Then a woman's disembodied voice whispered. "Don't say anything. Not yet."

My heart leapt into my throat, strangling any reply I might have had. "Who the hell are you?" I managed after my heart dropped back down to beat a rhythm in my chest.

"Sophia Denton." She sat on the ground, her back to the box as she whispered a few things into her own mic. When she finished, she turned her attention to me. "Romeo sent me. I'm a hostage negotiator with Metro."

"I don't negotiate." I adopted a similar position, my shoulder pressed to hers—the box was pretty small to cover both of us.

"Give the bad guy anything he wants, then give him a bullet?" Darkness hid Sophia, but not the smile in her voice.

My heart still galloped. The breeze cooled the sweat that had popped out everywhere, sending a shiver through me. "Pretty much."

"That's why Romeo sent me. You want your father back in one piece, don't you?"

"Right now, I'm on the fence on that one." I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened them again, a bit of calm returned.

"Really?" Sophia sounded like she was starting to think I might be part of the problem and not a part of the solution.

To be honest, I wasn't sure about myself either. "As far as I'm concerned, you guys can perforate the bad guy all you want, as long as you avoid doing that to my father. I reserve that privilege."

"Using force is the last resort, at least on our side of the equation." Sophia chuckled. "We'll do our best. Do you have a gun?"

"No."

"Good. Romeo said to ask."

The kid knew me too well. "You wouldn't have one I could use, then?"

Sophia snorted. "Not on your life. They'd have my badge."

I wanted to argue, but thought better of it.

"All righty then." Sophia's voice held a hint of respect along with a dose of caution. "It's show time."

A shell hadn't exploded over our heads for a bit. "Wonder what's up with the fireworks?" I peeked my head around but couldn't tell whether Campos and the Big Boss were still there or not.

"I asked him to give us three minutes to get everyone in place. They should start again any second now."

As if Xavier was privy to out conversation, a mortar whooshed to life behind us, launching another ball of fire.

"Lucky! Answer me." Albert's voice had a cold, calculation to it—not ruffled at all.

Sophia chuckled softly. "Cool customer. Good."

"Good?"

"At least he's not hanging on the ragged edge. Those guys, they're pretty unpredictable. I bet this guy wants to talk, tell us his story. And that's the goal: keep him talking, focused on you. Shouldn't be too hard; he hates you already."

"Great." I wasn't sure how I felt about that. I glanced around the electrical box at my back. Campos and the Big Boss were still there, half-hidden in the lee of a larger box—a condenser for the air conditioning system.

"Honey, we're known not only by the friends keep, but by the enemies we make." Sophia squeezed my hand. "We got a sniper on the roof over there." She pointed to the east. "The goal is to take him peaceably. If we can't…"

"I'm really not in a peaceable mood," I groused. And for once, I was telling the God's honest truth, completely unvarnished by even a thin coat of smart-ass.

"Try it my way, first. Keep him talking. Be non-confrontational. Draw him out. Romeo filled me in, but we still don't know exactly what he wants—besides killing you, I mean."

Like a shot, the firework exploded high above. My heart skipped a beat—someone ostensibly wanting to kill me was still a bit new and I hadn't totally adjusted. "I'm here, Campos," I shouted into the cascading light, waiting for it to reach the rooftop. "I understand it's me you really want."

"You don't understand nothing."

"Draw him out," Sophia whispered, then she turned to speak in hushed tones into her mic. "Let him tell his story."

"You're right about that. Why don't you tell me what I don't know, then?"

"Lucky, girl," my father said, his voice strained as if filtered through a mask of pain. "Get the hell out of here. It's gonna—"

"Shut up, old man," Campos growled.

Peeking around, I saw the kid raise his arm, then bring it down in a vicious swipe. A grunt. Then silence.

Instinctively, my muscles bunched. Sophia's hand on my arm stopped me from charging. "No."

"Fuck." I leaned back and tried to focus. "Campos, I know you're angry. Can you tell me why?"

"Our old man killed my mother."

Darkness once again oozed into the corners, closing out the light and wrapping its tentacles around my heart. The Big Boss a killer? Was it possible? I forced the thoughts away—I so didn't want to go there. And his last words had sounded like a shout of warning. But of what?

"Did you hear me, Lucky?" Albert Campos' voice sounded as taut as a piano wire.