I had the entire four-hour drive to convince myself I was right, that if Emily got up in front of an audience and sang, something would shut off for Vince. She’d become public property and unlovable.
Neither was true, of course. She’d never be public property because she was mine, and she’d never be unlovable for the same reason. But maybe she’d be free of closed-circuit cameras, bodyguards, and fear.
I pulled into the Bellagio parking lot in the early morning hours. Carlos had briefed the team on the performers’ lodgings and the work-arounds regarding Emily’s arrangements.
—Tiny dancer? Are you up?— I texted her from the hotel lobby and waited for an answer. The hotel was famous for its colored glass flowers, garden, and marble. It suggested tranquility without offering it. The flashing lights and buzzing, beeping, bouncing casino were ten feet away. It smelled of cigarettes and old coins as I walked through it, following the path to the other side of the hotel.
No answer from her. I texted Carlos. He never slept.
—Are you up?—
—Of course I’m up—
He called me a second later.
“What’s happening?” he asked.
“It’s—”
He must have heard the dinging of the slot machines when he cut me off.
“Are you here? In Vegas? Can you work? We’re short one.”
“Sure. Fine. Where’s Emily? Do you have anyone on her?”
“The Bellagio. Fabian just got back.”
“What room?”
I was answered with a long silence.
“Carlos?”
“You know I can’t tell you her room unless you’re working.”
I hung up, frustrated. I could wait. I was a patient man. But I came to suggest a plan that would need time to implement.
You came here to see her.
I did. The plan was an excuse. I believed in it, but the best part of it would be her, and us, and making up for all the stupid things we’d said.
As if calling her to mind called her to the world, a brass bellman’s cart went by.
Her pink leather bag hung from the hook, swinging with the motion as the bellman who was pushing it spoke to another, who was holding a clipboard. I followed them, trying to get a good look at the monogram.
They stopped at the elevator, speaking another language. I pretended to look at my phone, but I was really trying to get a good view of the monogram.
It was hers.
I could just follow it to her room. No problem if she was one of the first stops. If she wasn’t, I’d be following them from floor to floor, and I’d look suspicious.
One bellman got out and held people from entering. Bellman Two held the doors open and turned to me.
“I’m sorry, sir. This is being used for service overnight.”
“But—”
“Another elevator just arrived.”
Truth. The first bellman was guiding people to the next open elevator.
But I couldn’t lose sight of that bag.
It wasn’t about seeing her now or later.
It wasn’t about the unanswered text.
It wasn’t about Fabian ending his shift.
It was my intuition. The Iron Eye catching the pink bag in a sea of bright colors.
I had to go up that elevator.
CHAPTER 64
EMILY
This wasn’t my fault. None of it. If I was dead by morning, it wouldn’t be because I’d opened the door or because I moved in with him in the first place or stopped singing to please him. This wasn’t me; it was him.
He’d caught me by surprise. He’d knocked the wind out of me and slapped a precut piece of duct tape over my mouth before dragging me to the bathroom. I punched him. I kicked like a gymnast. I grabbed a big ceramic urn to hit him with, but he kicked it away. He was bigger. He was prepared. He was crazy. His goatee had grown out over his cheeks, and he’d lost weight. For a second I saw the handsome guy I’d loved, but he disappeared as soon as he opened his mouth.
“This is done, Em.” He threw me into the bathroom. I banged against the glass shower door, but it didn’t break. “I tried to do this like a nice guy. But you don’t want a nice guy.”
Twisting and wrestling, he got me onto the floor. My stomach writhed on the slippery marble, but he kept me still with a knee to the lower back. It hurt like hell, but the pain made me all the stronger.
He flipped me over. I scurried backward until my back was to the tub.
I couldn’t say fuck you. I couldn’t even flip him off because my hands were behind me. I was afraid. Very afraid. But adrenaline and a lack of options made me defiant as well.
He took me by the side of the face and got close to me. I could smell his cologne. His sweat. His own fear.
“I was a nice guy before I met you. I was fun. I had a lot of good times. Then you . . . you made it all go bad. Now it’s like my friends don’t even know me.”
Behind the tape, I told him it wasn’t my fault. And he could have his life back any time if he let me go.
Maybe he heard my muffled syllables. His hands got gentle, no longer holding my head in place.
“I keep telling them you’re worth it. You had all those cameras. I always saw them, and I knew you had them for me. It was like I was there with you. You know? Like I was still in your life.”
I blinked away tears. He moved his hands away and put them on my thighs. Even through my jeans, my skin recoiled.
“And you smashed them up. Like you wanted to smash me, and when you get back, you think you’re gonna just sweep them away?”
He squeezed my thighs.
“Just make me disappear and move that guy in?”
He squeezed until it hurt, moving his face close.
“I don’t think so.”
I reared my head back and thrust it forward, bringing my forehead onto his nose as hard as I could. Bones crunched.
His scream was deafening. He got off me, hands over a nose that was shooting blood.
I got away with hands behind my back, bare feet gripping marble, then carpet. The door was a million miles away. Fucking suite. Motel 6 next time.
There were roses all over the floor. I stepped on one hard and got a thorn in the heel. I screamed behind the tape. I knew he was coming. He had to be.
The door. Right here. But the handle was for hands in front, and mine were behind, and I’d never reach the lock in this position.
“Fuck!” He was a few steps away, bleeding everywhere, coming for me. I was ready for a fight. I might kill him, and I didn’t have use of my hands, but I was ready.
From the heavens, like the sound of an angel, the doorbell rang.
Then a knock.
Then the doorbell again, but I didn’t even have time to hear that second ring. Vince dove for me, and I threw myself against the door, making it rattle.
“Emily?” The voice came from the other side, and just like the flip side of a gold coin, despair turned to hope.
It was Carter.
The door rattled from his side.
Why wasn’t he coming in?
Vince tried to grab me and missed. Another rattle from the other side of the door.
“Emily!”