Ray Hoy - Jack Frost 01 - The Vegas Factor (12 page)

Varchetta swung his feet to the floor and stood, eyes riveted to Benny’s face, which fell quickly under the horrible gaze.
 

Benny realized he had said something very wrong.

“You dumbo! It’s not
my
baby!”

Benny looked perplexed. “But if it ain’t yours, whose is it?” he said.

Varchetta slammed his fist on the desk, livid with rage. “You big dumb ass!”

Benny cowered, not knowing what to say. Varchetta began to pace the room. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely under control. There was no smile, no casualness.

“Gino heard through the grapevine about Felicia. He did the friendly thing and called.” Varchetta glared at Benny. “Frost and Felicia are living in a cabin, just outside of Virginia City. That’s just south of Reno, up in the mountains. You ever been there?”

“No I ain’t boss.”

“Well, you’re gonna be. And this time, Benny … this time I don’t want Felicia back.”

Disbelief showed on Benny’s face. “You don’t want her back?”
Then can I have her?
For a moment he felt instant terror, but with a huge sigh of relief, he realized he hadn’t actually asked the question aloud.

“That’s right, I don’t want her back.” Varchetta’s eyes were slits as he lit a cigarette and watched the smoke drift upward. “I want you to kill her. I want you to find her and kill her. Then I want you to get rid of her, understand? But keep your hands off her! Kill her, and get rid of her so nobody ever finds her—
but keep your hands off her
!”

“Ah, boss, I wouldn’t think of—”

“My ass you wouldn’t, but I’m telling you right now, if I ever found out in any roundabout way that you had—and Benny, I
would
find out—you’d be sorry …
real sorry
. You hear me?”

“I hear, boss. Don’t worry about—”

“Oh shut the hell up!” Varchetta said.
 

He gave Benny instructions, and after the sulking brute left, he flopped into his chair and once again put his feet on his desk. He examined the television monitors that looked down on the casino action, thirty floors below. He concentrated on the tables, and forced the memory of Felicia Martinez out of his mind, forever.

* * *

Benny Florentine signed the paperwork at the car rental desk at Reno-Tahoe International Airport. After picking up his single suitcase, he drove out of the airport. It was good to be away from Las Vegas, and his boss’ constant, critical eye. At least for a short time, he would not have to answer to anyone. He would have to account for every penny of the money that the boss gave him, but he had some of his own, and he could spend it any way he wanted.
 

He would find Felicia and watch her for a while. But he didn’t want to run the risk of running into that big dog. He wasn’t worried about the man with Felicia, even though he looked to be in good condition.
Nobody’s as tough as I am, but that damn dog … I hate dogs.

 
Benny decided to ambush the animal from hiding. He nodded as he drove, liking the idea.

As he cruised down Virginia Street, he realized he was hungry. A few minutes later he spotted a little cafe and parked and went inside.
 

There were only four people in the place. They stared at him when he entered. A man of his size and appearance constantly drew attention. He was used to it.

He ordered three hamburgers and a cup of coffee. When the waitress brought them, he began wolfing them down, staring into a corner of the restaurant as he chewed his food open-mouthed.

When the waitress came back to refill his coffee cup, he asked, “How far is it to Virginia City, honey?” He saw her eyes dart to his open mouth, full of food, and saw the look of distaste on her face. He frowned. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing,” she said.

“Don’t give me that shit!” he said. “Don’t you like what you see?”

“I didn’t mean anything at all,” she said. Clearly rattled, she tried quickly to get back to his question. “Virginia City is about … uh, forty-five minutes from here.”
 

Benny continued to stare at her. He reached out and grabbed a slim wrist in his left hand, tightening his grip until her face blanched. He looked around. No one else in the restaurant was paying any attention. Pulling her close, he ran his right hand up the inside of her thigh. She recoiled. When the commotion drew attention from the other customers, he withdrew his hand and grinned at her.
 

She hurried away, trembling, and disappeared into the kitchen. Benny watched the open serving window that looked into the kitchen. The bald head of an old man peered out at Benny, the simian eyes glancing only briefly at him before darting away.

A moment later the waitress reappeared, looking subdued, and began filling sugar jars. She studiously avoided looking in his direction.

Benny picked up the third hamburger and began eating, his face sullen. Girls had always reacted that way toward him, ever since he was a kid. He had always been big for his age. He realized that he couldn’t do anything about the mean things that were said behind his back. But he also realized that his very physical size could stop the face-to-face ridicule. When girls resisted his advances, he treated them the same as the boys, physically punishing them, for which he had been suspended from one school after another, until his parents had thrown up their hands in despair.
 

Midway through his freshman year of high school, he had quit and taken a job in a Pittsburgh steel mill, lying about his age. He drifted from there to Gary, Indiana, where he worked as a bouncer in some of the toughest clubs in the city.
 

He soon gained a fearful reputation, which brought him to the attention of Harry Varchetta, already moving up in the Syndicate’s hierarchy. When Varchetta was appointed to head up one of the Las Vegas hotels, Benny went with him.

Benny leered at the waitress. She was young, maybe seventeen or so, and while she wasn’t very cute, she had really big knockers. And she was on her own here, her boss clearly wasn’t going to help her.

Benny called the hapless waitress over to the table. She approached, a coffee pot in her hand.

“I want another burger, and more coffee,” he said. He grinned at her. “You got nice tits, kid.” Crimson crept up her neck as she poured the coffee. “You want a little roll in the hay after you get off work?” She ignored him and hurried away, to the sound of his laughter.

He sat drinking the coffee. He’d stick around and wait until she got off work. He was in no hurry. He’d convince her to go with him somewhere.

Benny never took his eyes off the waitress as she cleaned counters. She glanced up occasionally, aware of his scrutiny.

The roar of motorcycle engines caught Benny’s attention. He glanced through the dirty window and saw three bike riders pull into the parking lot. They stepped off their choppers and swaggered into the restaurant. They had long, greasy hair and they wore cracked leather vests, shirtless underneath, filthy jeans, and boots.
 

An old man and woman, now the only other customers in the place, cowered under the gaze of the bikers. The largest man of the gang, obviously the leader, looked around at the empty tables. He glared at the old man. “We want this one,” he said, pointing down at the table where the old couple sat.

The old fellow lowered his eyes and looked at his wife. She put a hand on his arm and said something that Benny could not hear. The two got up and walked away to the sound of crude remarks aimed at the frightened old woman. Benny watched as the elderly man took his wife by the elbow and led her out of the restaurant, his head bowed.

The leader’s eyes caught Benny’s glance, and tried to stare him down. Benny stared back, unable to keep the amusement off his face.

The waitress took a deep breath and walked to the table. The lead biker said, “Three coffees,” but his eyes never left Benny’s.

Benny continued to stare back, which puzzled the biker. Not too many guys were able to maintain their cool under his withering look.

The waitress returned with a coffee pot and three cups. The leader continued to glare at Benny, still caught up in his schoolboy staring contest. As the waitress walked around to his side of the table and leaned over to fill his cup, he ran his left hand quickly up inside her skirt and squeezed her buttock. She straightened so quickly that she spilled some of the hot coffee on his lap. He stood, cursing her, while his friends laughed at his misfortune.

Benny noted that her boss did not even bother looking through the serving opening. He had probably seen the bike riders come in and gone out the back door.

One of the bikers pulled her down on his lap. The frightened waitress squealed and managed to twist free. She hurried into the kitchen, tears streaming down her face.
 

The smile on the lead biker’s face faded when he looked again at the big man in the black suit. Deciding enough was enough, he stood and swaggered to Benny’s table. “What are you looking at, fat boy?”

Benny slowly pulled a long cigar out of his inside coat pocket, bit the end off and spat it on the floor. Then he lit the cigar and blew a cloud of smoke into the biker’s face. “I ain’t looking at much,” Benny said.
 

One of the trio mimicked Benny’s high-pitched voice. “I ain’t looking at much, Freddie,” the biker said, but with a definite gay connotation.

Blood began to rise in Benny’s neck. Suddenly his collar felt too tight. He slowly got to his feet. The leader of the group stood six feet tall, but he felt dwarfed in the presence of the behemoth who towered over him. The room was suddenly silent.

“You’re screwin’ around with my girl. I don’t like that,” Benny said. He heard the scraping of chair legs against the floor as the other men stood. He turned his cold gaze on them. “Get your asses out of here right now, before I change my mind,” he said. He looked down at the leader. “Everyone but you … you can’t go, little man.”
 

The bikers were veterans of dozens of confrontations, but most had been carried out against men who were alone. Somehow this one was different. Finally, one slender, rat-faced man with incredibly bad acne, made his decision. He walked over to Benny and said, “You can kiss my—”

Benny grabbed the man’s forearm with both hands, and snapped it cleanly in half over his knee. The biker dropped to the floor, screaming in agony.

The leader spread his hands in a “no contest” gesture, and backed away.
 

“Ain’t good enough.” Benny’s huge left hand grabbed the man’s hair and held him upright while he hammered the biker’s face with his right fist. Finally satisfied, he threw his battered victim to the floor. The other bikers fled, the one with the broken arm screaming in pain.

Benny stepped over him and followed them outside. The man with the broken arm straddled his bike, vomiting onto his boots, while the other one sat frozen in his saddle, ashen with fear.

“Get your pants off, both of ’ya,
now
.”
 

They were awed by the ease with which he had handled their leader, but his command was too much to ask.
 

“Bullshit! Like hell I will!”
 

“Hey man, are you kidding?”

“You ain’t seen me mad yet. Now get ’em off!” Benny snarled.
 

They looked at him with uncertainty, then surrendered to the inevitable. Benny watched with amusement as they struggled out of their jeans. He grabbed their greasy pants and tossed them into the back seat of his rental car, then got in and started the engine.

He glanced into the rearview mirror. Parked behind him were the three, gleaming choppers. Benny slowly backed up, pushing the bikes along, bulldozer-like. Both bikers stepped off their machines just before their bikes were crushed against the brick wall of an adjoining building.

Benny laughed aloud as he watched the two bikers running back and forth in frustration, wearing nothing but black boots and leather vests. He gave them the finger as he drove away.

He thought about the waitress and wondered what she would have been like. But he consoled himself with the thought of what he was going to do to Felicia Martinez.

Chapter 19

I stood close to Felicia, hands on my hips, unconvinced despite the list of reasons she presented as to why she should go riding. I decided to try reasoning. “Look, you’re a
long
way along … riding a horse this late in your pregnancy can’t possibly be good for you!”

She stood next to Traveler, protected from the brisk early April wind by his rippling flank. She patted him as she looked up at me. I could tell by the look on her face that she realized she’d won. I was a pushover and we both knew it.

Her gleaming black hair was pulled back in a ponytail beneath the white Stetson, and tied with a red bandanna. She wore jeans and boots, and a loose plaid shirt under a denim jacket.
 

She was adorable.

She patted her belly with both hands. “We’ll soon get a look at Jonathan’s son.”

I helped her mount up. Even with my help, it required considerable effort on her part. When she was finally settled in the saddle, she sat there for a moment, panting from the exertion.