As the seed of an idea began to grow, she lifted her head. For the first time in the past five days, a sense of purpose settled over her. While a few minutes ago, she’d had no option but to go through with the ceremony in order to protect her stepdad, now that path was a dead end. Tony was going to kill her and make it look like an accident to collect on a life insurance policy he’d no doubt taken out in the name of Mrs. Tony Palazzi.
She should have known. If she hadn’t been so stunned by his demands and concerned for Pop, she’d have been thinking more clearly. None of it made any sense, and she’d missed the glaring inconsistencies in Tony’s behavior because she’d let her emotions rule her intellect. Damn it! Four years in the Marine Corps Lioness program, searching Iraqi women for explosives at the city gates, had taught her to read the enemy better than that.
Kellie whipped around and hurried toward the bedroom. There was no way she was going down quietly. She was a fighter, and a damn good one, and she certainly wasn’t delivering herself to the executioner. She had to get out of the hotel. Without attracting attention. One glance at her wedding attire and she almost laughed out loud.
No problem. It was only four twenty. There was still time to change. Her overnight bag sat open on the bed, the clothes she’d worn there strewn across the coverlet.
As she stretched to reach the zipper at the back of her dress, the phone on the nightstand beside the bed jingled, startling her. She stopped and stared. Who was calling? Pop didn’t know where she was since she’d been too cowardly to tell him of the mess she’d gotten herself into. Besides, Pop would call her cell phone if he needed her. It had to be Tony…or someone who worked for him.
Kellie slapped a palm to her forehead.The photographer!She was supposed to meet Tony downstairs for photographs. He was no doubt calling to tell her she was late.
Nerves stretched to the breaking point, she couldn’t trust her voice. If she answered, he’d know something was wrong. On the other hand, if she let it ring, he might think she was on her way down. Either way, her time was up. She had only minutes to escape.
Her heart pounding, she surveyed her belongings. She’d brought only one small bag, containing clothes and personal items, but if she was spotted in the hall with her bag packed so close to the time of the wedding, someone might become suspicious and sound the alarm. It wasn’t worth the risk. Making up her mind, she toed off her heels and slipped into a pair of soft leather sandals, grabbed her cell phone and a small clutch, opened her door and stepped into the recessed entryway.
She peered around the corner, jerked back just in time and froze against the wall. One of Tony’s bodyguards was headed for the bank of elevators. Was his name Jerry? He seemed like a decent enough guy. She’d ridden up in the elevator with him earlier. Chatting amicably, he’d made her smile when she hadn’t thought that possible. An hour ago, she might have appreciated his company as she made her way downstairs—but not after the conversation she’d just overheard.
She eased toward the corner and peeked into the hall again. One of the elevators opened and Jerry stepped inside, the arrow indicating he was heading up. She scooted out of the alcove and dashed for the stairwell halfway down the hall. Almost there, the elevator doors swished open again, and Jerry rushed out, patting his pockets as though he’d misplaced something. He froze momentarily when he saw her.
Kellie barely paused, sliding the last two feet until she slammed her palms against the door to the stairwell and shoved it open.
“Kellie—wait…” Jerry’s voice faded behind her, blending into the rustle of her dress and the whisper of her leather soles on the wooden risers.
She was nearly to the next landing when the door above shoved open again, and she heard him swear. Her heart pounding, she listened for sounds of pursuit. None came and, finally, the door clicked shut.
That could only mean one thing. Jerry thought he could beat her to the ground floor by elevator, and he was no doubt right. Kellie flew by the exit to the twenty-eighth floor and left the stairwell at the twenty-seventh. She slowed to a fast walk in the carpeted hallway. There had to be more than one group of elevators in this monstrous forty-floor hotel.
A sign on the ceiling at the end of the long corridor told her where they were. An arrow pointed out the stairs midway. As she debated the privacy of the latter, opposed to the ease and speed of the former, the hallway suddenly filled with people filing from one of the cars. Her mind was made up for her, and Kellie swerved into the stairwell.
Determination spurred her on, and she raced down twelve flights of stairs before the ache in her lungs insisted she stop and rest. She thrust her cell phone and the clutch, containing her ID, a little money and a picture of Anna, into the bodice of her dress so her hands would be free.
Street clothes would have significantly improved her odds. No chance of going unnoticed, scurrying down the Strip in a wedding dress—a Valencia original, no less. Even worse, her photo had been featured on the society page of the local newspaper. If anyone recognized her, they were sure to go straight to Tony.
Reaching ground level, she took a moment to calm herself, smooth her hair and slow her racing heart before she shoved through the door into the hotel lobby. She swerved toward the darkness and confusion of the casino to her right…and smack into the clutches of Jerry. Dark glasses hid his eyes, but his face was a mask of disapproval.
Kellie lashed out with fists, elbows and feet, taking full advantage of his evident surprise, driving him backward. He recovered quickly, jerking her into a quiet corner, and spun her around. Pinning her arms to her sides, he shoved her into the wall face first. The air flew from her lungs, and she had to concentrate to draw her next breath.
“I’m a friend, Kellie. Listen to me,” Jerry whispered. “I’m going to draw them off. Go straight through the casino to the south exit and keep going toward Fremont Street. When you’re sure you’re not being followed, read this.” He released her arms and snatched her wrist, forcing a folded piece of paper into her hand. Before she could stutter a reply, he was gone.
What just happened? He works for Tony. Why would he let me go?She wasn’t about to stick around and possibly find out he was only kidding. Whether he was lying or not, he’d given her a chance, and it would be crazy to squander the opportunity.
Crowded as usual, the wild lights and blaring sounds of the gambling haven would be her best chance to blend in and disappear—if not for the full-body, sequined, satin and lace that set her apart from everyone else.
People stared and some snickered as she strode through the crush of bodies. Let them have their fun. The last laugh would be hers if she could pull this off.
The exit was a half dozen strides away when she heard Tony’s voice.
“Kellie? Where are you going? What’s wrong?”
Like he doesn’t know.
She didn’t look back, barreling through the casino, all evidence of caution or tact cast aside. Adrenaline was running the show now. Reaching the west entrance, she flung the ornate wood and glass doors wide and surged onto the Strip and into the pouring rain. In thirty seconds she was drenched, her dress molding uncomfortably to her body and weighing her down. A glance over her shoulder confirmed her worst fear. Tony stood on the sidewalk in front of the casino, his cell phone to his ear, no doubt calling for security. For a moment, her fear was so great she was nearly overwhelmed, and her world seemed to stand still. From the corner of her eye she caught sight of two of Tony’s men darting through the crowd.
Kellie lengthened her stride and sprinted across the busy avenue, her shoes soaking through from the rain-washed pavement. She veered to the right, gaining the sidewalk and threaded through the unending stream of tourists. The Palazzis lived off these people and tens of thousands more just like them.
A lump formed in her throat. She’d been naïve to believe she could take on the king of the Dominion and beat him at his own game. How had she ever imagined she could go through with this wedding? Even to save Pop more heartache or herself from prison? Even if it meant finding Anna?
Hatred curled icy fingers around her heart, and she used her anger to propel her faster. At the end of the block, she crossed the intersection against the light, ignoring the bleating horns and the drivers’ expletives. Focused on the end of the next block, then the next and the one after that, she kept moving. Each time she peered back, she saw people turning to stare after her—but no men in black suits with bulges under their jackets.