Dangerous Bond (Jamie Bond Mysteries Book 4) (18 page)

"Jamie! I'm so sorry. I don't know how it happened, but…Jenkins escaped."

We met Charley and Elaine in the lobby near the casino entrance, next to a row of noisy slot machines.

"He couldn't have gotten far," Charley said. "He hasn't been gone more than five minutes."

I wanted to grill them as to how that had happened, considering the chair I'd set up, but now wasn't the time. "Let's spread out and find that weasel. We'll meet back here."

Sam and I went left into the casino, while Caleigh and Maya headed straight ahead, and Charley and Elaine took a right.

We entered the casino. There weren't as many people here at this hour as there had been earlier, but there were still enough to get lost in small crowds. We circled the slot machines first. A middle-aged man in plaid pants and a white shirt pushed in one coin after another. A couple of animated guys about my age sat a few seats over. Each time they pulled the lever and didn't win a grand prize, they moaned and then cheered to egg one another on to try again.

We walked past the blackjack table. No one could hide there. I didn't see Jenkins as a hider. He was more of a runner. But if he knew we were looking for him, he might hide to get away.

Sam shrugged her shoulders at me, as if to say she didn't know where he could be.

The more we walked through the casino, the more defeated I felt. What if he'd already skipped out? Chances were he'd head back to L.A. But what would happen to Heavy in the meantime?

And of course, there were still unanswered questions. Like how did Jenkins convince Heavy Cash he was a cop, and how did he even have time to get out of my hotel room, up to the penthouse, and escape with Heavy before Elaine called me? It wasn't adding up. Not unless Jenkins had an accomplice.

I stopped walking and stared down at my pink painted toenails. That was it. Of course. No, not my choice of polish, although it was exceptional, but Wrap Guy hadn't pulled all of this off by himself. He'd had help. His son, Wrap Guy Jr.

"Keep an eye out for a younger version of Jenkins," I said to Sam. "He may be working with his son."

She nodded and didn't question why. She was good like that.

We circled through the casino, but it was becoming abundantly clear that Jenkins wasn't there.

I snapped my fingers. "Bathrooms."

Sam nodded, and we took off in the direction of the nearest restrooms. Sam hit the women's room, just in case, and I took the men's. I pushed open the door with my left index finger, afraid of what I'd see or smell. The room had a faint scent of urine, which was to be expected, and a stronger aroma of a lemony artificial air freshener. Combined…well, I wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. Brown tiles covered the floor in a checkered sort of pattern alternating between light and dark shades as they crawled up the walls. Every few inches there was a gold-colored tile, which gave it all a sparkle. The top portions of the walls were covered with a brown speckled wallpaper. The sink and urinal area was, thankfully, empty. There were two stalls, and both doors were shut, so I couldn't tell if they were occupied or not.

I walked over to the first one and pushed it with the same index finger that had opened the door. Better to keep it at one so I could decontaminate it properly. The stall was empty. One down, one more to go. I pushed on it as well, but it didn't budge, and no one called out.

I knocked, and no one answered. If Jenkins was in there and thought I'd just go away, he was kidding himself. "Hello?"

Nothing.

I knocked again. I really didn't want to get on my hands and knees and look under. God only knew what was on this floor. Some men didn't exactly have good aim.

I considered stepping on the toilet seat of the empty stall and looking over. If it was some drunk or someone mute, that would be really embarrassing. But what other options did I have? I went into the empty stall, placed one foot on the toilet seat, and both hands on the dividing wall. I lifted myself up, said a quick, silent prayer I wouldn't see anything I couldn't erase from my memory with a good night's sleep, and peeked over.

The stall was empty. Someone thought it would be funny to lock the door and shut it. I sighed and stepped down. What a waste of time. I walked out of the men's room as fast as possible. Sam was waiting for me.

"Any luck?" she asked.

"No. Let's go back to the lobby and see if the others are around."

I walked to the front desk and approached the pimply young man.

"Excuse me. Can you please tell me which room Ian Jenkins is in, please?"

He put on what was probably the standard hotel smile and said, "We can't give out guests' rooms, ma'am."

Of course he couldn't. That would be too easy.

"Would you care to leave him a message?"

"Can you call him and tell him that…Bristol Claremont is waiting for him?" I wasn't sure if her name would get his attention, but I knew mine would not.

"Yes." He looked up the room number on his tablet. "Did you say Ian Jenkins? J-E-N-K-I-N-S?"

He couldn't find him? That would mean he hadn't registered a room. Or hadn't registered one under his own name. "Yes."

He swiped at his screen and shook his head. "I'm sorry, but he's not a guest here."

Now, was that so hard to begin with?

"Perhaps he hasn't checked in yet? Or he could be at one of the neighboring hotels."

"Thank you," I said and walked away. If Jenkins wasn't registered here, did it mean he was staying elsewhere? Or had he not even bothered with a room? This place didn't seem to be in his price range anyway.

"Now what?" Sam asked.

We walked around some more until we were back at the slot machines. The others hadn't returned yet. Maybe that was a good sign.

Movement in my peripheral vision had me turning toward it. I didn't know what made me turn. It was a feeling, not about Jenkins, but more…personal. That was when I saw him. Dressed in an old, ratty fly-fishing hat, a pair of sunglasses, and a fake-looking bushy mustache. Dark jeans, a burgundy jacket, and loafers covered his stocky build. Okay, so yeah, the hideous disguise made him more noticeable than not, but it was the gray-and-black boat shoes that gave him away. I'd recognize them anywhere since I'd bought them for him last Christmas.

Derek.

I closed my eyes, thought a whole string of really dirty words, and then I marched toward him.

He had his back toward me and didn't see me coming. In fact, he seemed entirely engrossed in something happening at the bar in the center of the casino floor. As I got closer, I saw exactly what it was. Elaine and Charley were sitting at a pair of stools in the corner with a pair of wineglasses in hand.

Seriously? He'd come to Vegas to spy on his girlfriend?

I reached him and slapped him on the shoulder. I took small satisfaction in the fact that he jumped about a mile.

"What are you doing here?" I hissed at him.

He jerked around, his brows up over the glasses, and his mustache falling lopsided. "Jesus, James, you about scared the crap out of me."

I placed my hands on my hips and scowled. "Answer the question, Derek."

He glanced behind him. Charley and Elaine were showing a photo on Elaine's cell to the bartender. Presumably of our missing Jenkins. I couldn't help watching the bartender's face for any sign of recognition. None. Darn.

"I, uh…" Derek stammered, drawing my attention back to my dad. "Well, can't a guy take a vacation now and then?"

"Nice try, old man. You are here spying on her, and in this silly getup. Did you really think she wouldn't recognize you?"

Derek did an over-the-shoulder toward Elaine before ducking behind the potted palm to his right. "It's not that bad, is it?"

"You look like a porn star going fishing. Yeah, it's that bad. How did you find us?"

He puffed out his chest. "How do you think? I am a private investigator, after all."

"
Retired
private investigator."

"Po-tate-o, po-tot-o." He waved me off.

"More like
stalker
,
restraining order
," I said, not letting him off that easy.

He grinned. "Okay, fine. If you must know, I went by Elaine's place earlier, but it was all dark. I happened to chat with one of her neighbors, who said Elaine was talking earlier about taking a road trip to Vegas with some guy named Charlie. So I booked a flight. Now I'm just waitin' for this Charlie guy to show up so I can give him a piece of my mind."

I rolled my eyes so far I saw blonde roots. Then I slapped him again but this time with less force. My hand was still tingly from the first time. "There is no Charlie guy!
That's
Charley," I said, pointing toward the bar where the Senior Sleuths were now showing the photo to the other bar patrons. "She's Maya's mom."

Derek blinked at me. "What's Elaine doing here with Maya's mom?"

"When Maya went home to pack for the trip, they insisted on tagging along."

More blinking.

"We're here on a case," I hissed at him. I really didn't have time for this. I had a wrapper and a rapper on the loose.

I watched as recognition registered on his face…followed closely by an unexpected frown. "Wait, are you telling me that you brought Elaine to Vegas on a
case
?"

"Well, 'brought' isn't exactly the word I'd use. More like I was bamboozled into letting her tag along might be more accurate—"

"Is this the murder case?"

"Uh, well, sort of—"

"The dangerous murder case? You dragged my girlfriend into the dessert into the middle of a dangerous murder investigation, possibly putting her in harm's way?"

I gave him my best
get real
look. "You're trying to turn the guilt tables on me, aren't you?"

He paused. "Is it working?"

"Kinda," I said honestly. "Look, Elaine's not cheating on you. God only knows why, but she actually likes you."

"You think?"

"I know. Now go home."

Derek shrugged, and for a moment I could have sworn he was actually thinking about doing what I'd asked.

For a moment.

"You know, you lied to me, kid. You said she was having a quiet night in," he said.

Oh yeah. I'd forgotten all about that.

"But you didn't believe me if you went to her house and talked to her neighbors." I was hoping he wouldn't harp on my lying. I knew he had lied to me before—many times—but there was something about lying to my father that left an extra-bitter taste in my mouth. Well, at least when caught.

"Jamie," Sam said, coming up behind us. Saved by the brunette.

She paused when she saw Derek. "Hello, Mr. Bond."

"Hi." He removed the glasses and gave a half smile. I doubted he remembered her name. He usually referred to Sam and Caleigh as Legs Number 1 and Legs Number 2.

"So, are you going to tell Elaine you're here?" I asked.

Derek frowned. "Are you crazy?"

Sometimes I had to wonder.

"If I tell her, she'll think I don't trust her."

I quirked an eyebrow at him. "You don't."

"But I want to."

I laughed. Really, it was all I could do. If I ever wrote my memoirs, this week would definitely be highlighted in the book. They could write a TV show about the Bond Agency, and Charlize Theron could play me. Harrison Ford could play Derek. Or maybe even Pierce Brosnan, if I was in a good mood.

My fame-and-fortune fantasies were cut short as I spotted a flash of pale green out of the corner of my eye. I whipped my head around, feeling adrenaline spike as I instantly locked eyes with Jenkins.

We held eye contact just long enough for me to see his eyes go wide with recognition.

Then he bolted.

I didn't think. I bolted too. In a second I was on his heels.

We ran through the lobby, and Pimply the Front Desk Clerk shouted at us to slow down. Sorry, kid. They'd have to arrest me before I'd let Jenkins get away this time. He ran in a U-turn and headed toward the front doors, but Sam and Derek got there first and blocked him. Way to go, Dad.

Jenkins took a left and turned back into the casino, and we took off. People became blurs, and I was surprised no one had stopped us. Yet. A woman at the upcoming table scooted her seat in, but she left her ginormous purse on the floor, just behind her chair. She reached back to get it just as I was racing past. I ended up jumping and leaping over her arm and nearly kicked her in the face.

"Sorry," I shouted and kept going. There was nothing like an assault charge to add to my disturbing the peace.

I was panting by the time we reached the back of the casino. I felt perspiration run down my back and my sandals pinch my feet. They were adorable, but they were not made for chasing bad guys. Nevertheless, I kept going, even as my breath started coming out in ragged huffs. I mentally reminded myself to hit the gym when I got home.

Before I realized it, we'd left the casino and entered the buffet dining room. Long rows of food covered one end of the room, where people in a line were busy filling plates with shrimp cocktail and crab legs.