Rainey spotted the group in the dining room when she crossed the lobby. A chill spread through her when she saw Brad’s face, a flash of it twisted in pleasure while she pulled in vain against the stakes she was tied spread-eagle to. She shook her head against the memory. Another life—literally. His cronies sat around him, just like a pride of young lions.
She wondered if Grant had kept his word. Just her luck they’d joined Red Sky and been given this assignment. She’d need to stay sharp to avoid them. Being a maid wouldn’t give her full access to the lodge, so she’d decided to join the “massage staff.” That way she could go anywhere without much question.
She ducked into the women’s room and checked herself in the mirror. Passable. Stood in front of the dryer for a minute and pulled her shirt out in front of the hot air to get the rest of the water off. She went back out into the hall and heard footsteps. A security guard passed and nodded to her. She gave him a smile. Pushing open the glass doors to the main staff office behind reception, Rainey stepped in.
A young woman with eye shadow that mimicked a parrot’s wings glanced up and smiled. “How may I help you?”
Rainey paused a second too long, recovering from the surprise of the garish makeup and seeing her former killers outside. She pulled her cover story firmly around her.
“Yes, ma’am, my boss over to Key Largo said I should come work the party.”
“And who is your boss?”
“Diamond Carter, ma’am. She runs—”
“Yes, we know who Diamond is. Your name?”
“Laila Jones, ma’am.”
“Take a seat, please.”
Rainey sat out of view of the glass door to the main office. She picked up a fashion magazine and started thumbing through it, feigning interest.
A harried, middle-aged woman rushed through a door to the back of the office and glanced around. Rainey stood and the woman looked her up and down. A frown formed on her face. “Laila?”
“Yes, ma’am. Massage therapist.”
The woman raised an eyebrow. “I hope you can do more than that.”
“Oh, yes ma’am. I understand the job.”
The woman’s gaze fell to her hands.
“I keep them short for the massage.”
“Uh, hu.” She still looked skeptical.
“I clean up real nice, ma’am. I didn’t want to get all gussied up before the boat ride over with the wind and all.”
She eyed Rainey. “What’s Diamond’s code word for trouble?”
“Tofu, ma’am.” A Google search had turned this up on a few women’s Facebook pages. It amazed her how indiscreet people’s posts were.
The woman gave a crisp nod. “Well, if you work for Diamond, I guess we can give you a try.”
Rainey dipped her knees like she was in front of royalty. “Oh, thank you, ma’am. I can’t tell you how much this means to me. My momma, she’s sick and—”
“Yes, yes.” The woman waved her hand in a dismissive gesture and turned to the receptionist. “Call Candi to take care of her.”
The receptionist picked up the phone and pushed a button.
“Candi will get you all fixed up,” the manager said to Rainey. “We’re twenty-four seven the whole time Mr. Earl is in residence.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She turned on her mid-level black pumps and marched back through the door she’d come through.
First obstacle down.
A few minutes later, Candi bustled into the staff office, the scent of gardenia coming with her. She led Rainey up the staff stairs to a big room that looked like the working girls’ lounge. Make-up stands lined one wall in a long row. A kitchenette with two round tables filled the other side. Some sleeping spaces came next. In the back, clothes hung on racks, everything from tennis outfits and cheerleader outfits to nurses’ uniforms. She caught a glimpse of satin behind these.
“Let’s see.” Candi stopped in front of one of the mirrored stands and turned Rainey’s face this way and that, studying her. Then she grabbed her chin and tilted her face to the light. Her fingers traced the bruise Dushku had left on her right cheek. “We can cover that,” Candi murmured, not asking or caring how she’d come by it.
The madam took a step back and studied Rainey’s body. “I think we’ll put you in black tights with this slinky, silver top. Lacy black bra.”
“Beautiful.”
“But you need a shower. In the back. Once you’re dressed, pick up this house phone and dial 69 for me,” she said without a hint of irony, “and I’ll check your make-up.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And please don’t call me ma’am. Makes me feel old.” She winkled her nose and headed out.
Rainey picked out a locker in a shadowed corner and threw her bag and clothes inside, then punched in a series of numbers to secure it. She took her time in the shower, taking full advantage of all the jets designed to hit every square inch of her body. The products were a bit too perfumed for her taste, but she lathered up and then leaned into the pulsing streams of water, relaxing the knots of tension.
Her ribs had started to ache. She probed each one, winced when she poked the last one on the right. They all hurt, but nothing seemed broken. Her side would turn colors, but she didn’t expect to be taking off the slinky, silver top she’d been assigned to wear.
She dried off with a deep tufted blue towel complete with the Ibis Isle logo—they didn’t skimp on the help here. She chose a lavender body lotion, slathered herself in it as if it were protective armor, then slipped into her uniform. Rainey sat in front of one of the make-up tables and gently spread foundation over her bruise, then evened out the rest of her face. A bit of mascara and faint smoke eyeshadow, and she felt ready. She dialed Candi.
Five minutes later, Candi walked in, her floral perfume filling the room once again. Something about it reminded Rainey of her grandmother.
“Let’s have a look at you. A bit too subtle, I think.” She picked up a brush and rouge pot and put spots of color on Rainey’s cheeks. Then she selected a small jar of silver that turned out to be glitter. “Close your eyes.”
Rainey suffered her ministrations. With Candi leaning so close, she recognized the perfume and decided to win her over a little. “Is that Jungle Gardenia you wearing?”
“Why, yes, it is.” Candi’s voice softened.
“I just love that scent. Can’t hardly find it now.”
“Found it in a catalog that sells old-fashioned things.” She huffed when she said these last words. “Stuff that isn’t made anymore. But some things are classics.”
“I agree.”
Candi blew across her eyelids. “Now look at yourself.”
Rainey squinted, worried she’d get glitter in her eyes, but Candi had blown away any stray flecks. “My goodness.” She thought she resembled an iridescent hoot owl.
“You like?”
“It’s amazing. I never thought I could look so nice. Thank you, ma—Candi.”
“You’re welcome.” She fluffed up Rainey’s hair, twisting a few strands around her finger to tighten the curl. “Perfect. Now, go walk around the lobby and outside. Go flirt.” She gave her a proprietary pat on the butt as Rainey walked by.
Second obstacle down.
Rainey sauntered out into the lobby and earned a few leers from the executives and lobbyists checking in. She walked around the building toward the cottages, looking for any activity. Just the normal flurry of people milling around. Nobody seemed alarmed. But then, this was Earl’s property after all. Maybe dead bodies weren’t that unusual.
She circled around and went back to the dressing room, now thankfully empty. Her locker hadn’t been disturbed. She opened it and unzipped her bag. The Makarov lay next to her phone in the middle of her clothes. She pulled it out and checked the rounds. Eight left. That matched her memory.
Maybe she could lift another weapon from a lodge security guard. These Makarov’s took an odd sized bullet. Rainey stuffed the pistol into the back of her tights. Her loose top covered it nicely. She grabbed her phone, went into a bathroom stall, and punched in a code to secure it. Time to go outside.
The path to the cottages still seemed quiet. She walked down the path toward the golf course and once she was far enough away from the lodge, veered into the trees. She found a large, flat rock and sat down. Rainey pulled her phone from the deep pocket in the tunic she’d been given and found a condom. Disgusted, she tossed this into the woods behind her.
She opened the web. Navigating to the lodge website, she familiarized herself with the layout. Finding a backdoor to the staff message board, she silently thanked 7R4C3R for teaching her what he called Hacking 101. Earl’s home stood up the beach from the lodge, a magnificent three-storied house with a furnished basement that resembled a cruise ship with a balcony running all around offering views of the Atlantic from all sides. She found the listing from a few years ago on Zillow. Why nobody had taken this down was a mystery. She scrolled through photos.
A pool stretched in the back under the sun, but also reached into the downstairs under the balcony, providing shade and privacy. This extended into a spa with hot tubs and two saunas. Also, lots of entrances. Inside, a long bar stood in front of a theatre room. The kitchen was downstairs in the back—arranged like the old houses of England where only servants cooked. More entrances.
On the main floor, a large dining area in the center was surrounded by equally spacious living rooms. More windows and doors. The second floor held bedrooms, each master sized with doors to the porches. On the ends were extra-large suites. Earl’s domain was the top floor with an enormous bedroom, even larger bath, and lounge area plus office, all with huge windows and doors to the balcony. She suspected he kept this to himself.
Piece of cake to get in.
Except for the Secret Service. She wasn’t worried about Red Sky. But they were here, and she’d need a better disguise. Good thing it was Halloween.