We turned and moved with Muscles toward the elevators. I’d decided to go along with him instead of fighting it out right there on the floor. After all, I’d lose. We must have made an odd trio, the big man holding Chava as if in a passionate embrace. From a distance, it probably looked like he just had his arm around her. I remained slightly separate, a third wheel to their romantic liaison.
We went up to the top floor without speaking—Chava’s eyes downcast on the carpet, Muscle Man’s straight ahead. I kept my attention glued to the Hulk. I could see he shaved parts of his face. His hair grew excessively there too. His five o’clock shadow started at his hairline and ended at his moustache, with the hair already roughing in, even though it wasn’t yet noon. The elevator dinged and we stepped out in unison, Chava and Beastman in front, me walking behind like a well-behaved German Shepard. Fuzzy Muscles seemed to know I wouldn’t leave Chava alone with him; he never even looked my way.
Walking down the plush, carpeted hallway, a delicate light blue that belied the nature of the building we were in, we stopped in front of the door at the far end. The bodyguard swiped a keycard and the door swung open to reveal a large suite. Vincent stood at a small minibar, pouring himself a drink. Did everyone drink this early in the day in Chava’s world? He didn’t turn as we entered, but caught Chava’s eyes in the mirror above the bar as we came into the room.
“Drink, Cha-cha?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” she said, her voice still in the strange register she had used since we walked in the front door of the casino.
“Eddie?” Vincent began to make a martini for Chava without asking what she’d have.
“Sure, since we’re all getting chummy.”
“What would you like?”
“Vodka on the rocks, if you would be so kind.”
The time for soda with a twist had passed.
Muscles stepped back away from Chava, but stood between the door and us. I figured he was probably packing, so even if either of us could get through the wall of flesh he posed, we still might not make it out.
“Pat her down,” Vincent said to his hairy henchman. “You understand, don’t you, Eddie?”
I put my arms out and stood with a wider stance. No use poking the bear. “Just like getting through airport security, right?” I said to demonstrate my acquiescence. “At least you aren’t using a scatter machine to see me naked.”
I swore the bodyguard hid a smile at that one.
“Your daughter has a sense of humor,” Vincent said to Chava as he handed her a martini and went to pour my drink.
“She gets that from me,” Chava said. I couldn’t read anxiety in her voice, so I wondered if she wasn’t scared or was a better actor than I gave her credit for. After all, she did maintain a poker face for a living.
Muscles performed the pat down on me in a fast, professional manner. TSA could actually learn a thing or two from the man. He nodded to Vincent I wasn’t carrying or wired.
“No offense meant by the intrusion,” Vincent said to me. “It’s not personal.”
“None taken,” I said as I took the drink he handed over.
The bodyguard looked from Chava to Vincent, raising an eyebrow in question.
“Be gentle with me,” Chava said, holding her arms out so he could frisk her. She didn’t even put down her drink.
“Why don’t we all sit a moment and chat,” Vincent said when the bodyguard was finished. Not waiting for our response, he moved over to the seating area in the suite. Vincent sat on a chair, relegating Chava and me to the matching loveseat. We sat down together. The Fuzz went back to his post by the door.
“L’Chaim,” he said, raising his glass.
“L’Chaim,” Chava said in response.
I just sipped and kept my eyes on Vincent.
I’m such a rebel.
“Why don’t you tell me a little bit about your relationship with Matthew Hallings,” Vincent said, looking at me.
“I don’t have any relationship with Matthew Hallings,” I said.
“Excuse me,” Vincent said, setting his highball glass down on an end table. “Your relationship with Kendra Hallings.”
“What’s it to you?”
Vincent tsk-tsked and looked at Chava again. “Your daughter isn’t very polite, is she?”
“That she must get from her father,” Chava said. Vincent chuckled, but said nothing. Chava had always blamed my long-absent father for my transgressions.
“How did you know Eddie’s my daughter?”
“Cha-cha, I know everything about the regulars in Vegas. You play far too much poker, and win far too many hands, for me not to have checked you out. I like to know where a person’s weaknesses may lie.”
“Are you threatening my child?” Chava said, half rising from her seat as if she might take the mobster on barehanded right then and there.
“Relax for a moment, would you?” Vincent said, the amusement I’d seen earlier in his eyes finally reaching his mouth. The corners of his lips twitched and I thought he was holding back a smile. “I said I liked to know what they are, I didn’t say I’d ever use them. Why would I threaten your daughter?”
“Well, then, what is this, Vinnie? You have your trained monkey there …” she turned and looked at Muscles standing at the door behind us. “No offense.”
“None taken,” the trained monkey said. My, weren’t we a polite group?
“You have your trained monkey waylay us on our way to a nice lunch and bring us up here under threat of physical violence, pat us down, and now you have apparently checked me out? What am I supposed to think?”
“Really?” Vincent said, speaking over our heads at Muscles. “Did you really use the threat of physical violence?” The big man shrugged, his expression unchanged.
“Chava. Trust me when I say no one is going to hurt either you or your daughter.”
“So we could just up and walk away?” Chava asked.
“You could, but I don’t think you want to,” Vincent said, picking up his glass again and taking another sip.
“And why not?” Chava asked, standing up. “Why shouldn’t we just walk right out of here?”
“Because he knows where Kendra is,” I said, watching Vincent closely. Something wasn’t adding up in this conversation. “Don’t you, Vincent?”
He swung his coal-black eyes toward me, that humor glinting in them again.
“Is she missing?” he asked.
“Don’t play games. Hallings is in to you for a lot of money. Do you have his wife or not?”
Vincent put his glass back down with a decisive thump, his countenance changed, as if he’d made up his mind about something.
“What do you think?” he said, loud enough for someone in the bedroom to hear. “Do you want to join the conversation?”
Another man stepped into the room. Chava gasped and her face went white.
“Who is this?” I asked her, as she clearly knew the man hiding out in the gangster’s hotel room.
She said his name just before she dropped down in a dead faint.
I might have fainted myself if Chava hadn’t beaten me to it.