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  Pete started talking again. They were into a forty-minute ride before they reached the Hoover Dam. Carlo gazed out at the monstrous structure in mild amusement before glancing back to his lady. “You’ve seen this, cara?”

  Shae sat with her thighs pressed tightly shut, and her head in her hand as if embarrassed. He pulled her over, and she hit at him to resist. But he forced the issue. She was his. All of her.

  “Look, the dam.” He tried to make up.

  She rolled her eyes but let him hold her. They enjoyed the rest of the flight with his arm around her, and her head resting on the side of his shoulder.

  “I’m taking you down. We’ve reached the canyon. Hold on!” Pete said. They went over the cliff and down. It looked like a never ending abyss of rocky edges in reddish brown mountain ridges. And several feet below the rim the helicopter landed.

  “We’re in the canyon, Shae. You want to give him your surprise?”

  Carlo glanced to her.

  “Yeah, after I smack him,” she mumbled.

  Pete chuckled. Shae took off her headphones, and he took off his. She grabbed his hand. Pete opened the door to the helicopter, and they got out. There was a white linen table with a bucket of champagne and two crystal flutes waiting.

  “What’s this?” Carlo asked.

  “For you. My surprise. You embarrassed me in there, Carlo,” she pouted. “Pete knows me as a professional woman.”

  "I can't help it. I want to touch it. All the time," he said and tickled her. Shae laughed. Her anger softened. He could tell. She pulled him over to the table. Carlo picked up the champagne. He uncorked the bottle, and it shot through the air like a bullet. Suds poured from the top.

  “To us!” Shae said and used the flutes to capture the golden liquid.

  She gave him his glass and raised hers. Carlo set the bottle down. “To good times.”

  Never had a woman done something so sweet for him. He tapped her champagne glass with his. “Cin... cin!” he said in agreement. He drank the champagne and pulled her over to his arms. “Grazie. For bringing me here.”

  “I want you to love it as much as I do. Maybe convince you to come to Vegas more often.”

  “Or you can come to Italy. Bring your whores with you.”

  “What did you call them?” she stepped back.

  Carlo blinked. “Whores?”

  “My girls aren’t whores!”

  “Of course they are. You can call them what you want, but that's what they are.”

  Shae tossed her champagne in his face. Stunned he double blinked.

  “Don’t you ever call them that! Do you hear me? We aren’t whores!”

  “I... meant?”

  “You’re such an asshole. It was a mistake to think you could be decent. You’re nothing but a hit-man flunky in an expensive suit.” She turned and started back to the helicopter. Carlo went after her. He grabbed her arm, but she fought to get lose.

  “Look at me. I’m sorry sweetheart. I didn’t say it to piss you off. I don’t think it’s an insult.”

  “Is that what you think of me? A whore? Why? Because of what I told you about my past? I’m trash?”

  “No. I don’t care about your past. I told you. I don’t think whore is a bad word. You’re a survivor. That’s what I think.”

  “Let me tell you something. It’s hard being born a girl in this world. Spending every day of your life trying not to be fucked by the people you love, or fucked by the people you barely know. I don’t care if you’re a black girl in the hood, a young girl in China, or a white girl in Russia. It’s hard. I’ve seen it all. Women lost and shuffled through life because men think we exist to breed for them or be abused by them. We are survivors damn it. My girls dance and do parties, but we are business women. We don’t get paid to fuck men. We get paid to fuck them over. Do you understand? Do you?”

  Carlo threw his hands up in defeat. What was there left to say? The best thing about Shae was that she lived life on her own terms, like him. He didn’t give a fuck about labels. He was something far worse. It was ridiculous for her to tell him she got a contract at the hotel by fucking some pencil dick and then tell him she wasn’t a whore. What the fuck was a whore then? And why was being a whore so fucking bad? Hell, all of his women were. And then she wiped her tears. Shae's tears were as precious as blood to him. He never saw her cry. Never saw her in pain. At that moment he not only saw the raw hurt in her but had to face that he was the cause. It was hard not to be an asshole when his entire life he survived by mastering the technique.

  Shae was special. What the fuck had he done to prove it to her? Fuck, he even forgot her birthday. He really blew it this time.

  Shae wiped her tears. “It’s time to go.”

  Carlo sighed. He couldn’t summon the words to fix, so he followed her back to the helicopter. The illusion was over.

  Chapter Five

  The ride back to the hotel was as uncomfortable as the helicopter ride. Shae barely spoke or answered any of his questions. Nothing he said or proposed lifted her from her dark mood. When they arrived at the hotel, he gave up. If his sweetheart wanted to talk, she would. He'd never met a woman more stubborn than him. They walked through the casino in silence. She had stopped before they reached the elevator.

  “I need to check on the show for tonight. Dinner is at eight. I’ll see you soon so we can get dressed and go.”

  “Shae.” He took her hand. “Slow down.”

  She didn’t look at him, but she allowed him to hold her hand. It would have to be enough for now.

  “Let’s go up and talk it out.”

  “No,” she said.

  He pulled her closer. "I don't want to fight with you. Let's makeup."

  “I’m not mad,” she mumbled. “I got work to do. Whores have to pay bills, too.”

  He lifted her chin. “I want to make up. Forgive me. You are not just some whore. Have I ever treated you like one? Would I come all this way to be with one?”

  She blinked up at him and frowned. His explanation made it worse. He didn’t understand how. So he panicked and did the only thing he could to show how remorseful he was. He kissed her. “Forgive me.”

  “Say it in Italian,” she said.

  “Perdonami,” he said.

  She smiled for him. It was forced. But she made the effort. “Okay. You’re forgiven. I won’t be long.”

  He nodded and let her hand go. She walked away. When she was out of his sight, he walked over to the man guarding the elevator and flashed his room key. All the way up to his room he replayed his mistake. He'd improved plenty when it came to relating to women. Especially a woman he was falling in love with. Still, there was this awkward, inexperienced side of him that was embarrassing. Women weren't that complicated but Carlo's lack of experience with emotionally connecting to them was. Not since he was falsely accused of rape and sent to prison as a teenager had he felt more confused about the opposite sex. What made a girl he liked hate him? What made a girl he hated like him? At fifteen that confusion was understandable. But at his age now it was just stupid. Because Shae was an exciting, open, independent, sexually aware, confident woman. The kind any man should want. The kind he wanted. He needed to find a way to prove it.

  Carlo arrived on his floor lost in thought. When he entered the room, he closed the door and looked up to see the girl named Marissa coming out of the room he shared with Shae. He paused.

  “Hi, I ah, I was looking for some makeup that Shae lets me borrow.”

  Carlo frowned. Again that part of his brain that could see through a person trying to deceive him itched.

  “Where is Shae?” she asked.

  Carlo still didn’t answer. He looked the woman over. She wore a bikini top that was red and yellow, and a pair of cut-off jean shorts. If she was looking for makeup, why was she standing before him with empty hands?

  "You don't talk much do you?" she asked. She smiled at him and tossed her dark hair. Shae may not employ whores, but this woman was a pro
fessional. The toss of her hair and her sexy smile could disarm a lesser man. Most men. Not Carlo. Her smile faded when his eyes narrowed on her.

  "Well, I need to go get dressed. See you later," she said and walked toward her room. She paused to glance back at him twice to see if he was watching her. He was. She went into her room and closed her door. He heard her engage the lock. Carlo walked into the room he shared with Shae. He saw his bag unzipped, and his things rifled through. The problem was, he was sloppy. He couldn't remember if he had done the tossing of clothes, or if she had. He went to the satchel he carried on the plane. Inside the zipper liner, he removed several stacks of money. He counted the cash, and it was all there. Whatever she was looking for she didn't steal from him. So he decided to let it go. Besides, he was an idiot not to have turned the money over to American dollars sooner.

  Carlo picked up the phone.

  “This is the concierge desk. How can I help?”

  “Yes, I have some cash I need to convert over to American dollars. Set up an account for my stay here.”

  “No problem. Your name, sir?”

  Carlo gave the woman all the details she asked. He was told what office to bring the money to. He thanked her and hung up. The door to the suite opened and closed. He hoped Shae had decided to come in sooner. He wanted a second chance. When he entered the suite, he was alone. He glanced at the open door of Marissa’s room. She had left. Carlo walked over. He stepped inside the girl’s room and flipped on the light. There was nothing special there. In fact, the bed was made, and nothing personal was on the desk or drawer. He checked the closet and saw her clothes hanging. He checked her drawers and saw nothing. Maybe he was wrong. He had to stop with his paranoia. At home, instinct and paranoia kept him and the people he was hired to protect alive.

  “Fuck this,” he mumbled. He left the room, collected his money, and left the suite. Leaving all thoughts of Marissa behind.

  ***

  Shae laughed with Jonathan. He was animated when he talked. All hands and neck rolls. Today he was in rare form about the costume fitting. She didn’t care about the behind the scenes drama. She was still riding high on the opportunity. Yes, her girls worked for the casino. But Carlo was partly right. It was the same crap. Night after night, serving drinks and lap dances to rich men in private parties. But that was about to change. Her girls were going to dance in a real show. Their very first. And before long she would turn her escort business into a talent agency. And her future would blossom in L.A. or New York. The sky was the limit.

  “Shae, can we speak for a moment?” Tasha asked.

  “Sure, excuse me, Jonathan.” She and Tasha walked out of the dressing room. “I spoke to the girls. No one has seen her. Candy is really missing.”

  Shae tried to push it out of her head all day. She knew in her heart that Candy was gone.

  “What do we do? Call the police?” Tasha asked.

  “I want you and Sera to go to the police station. File a missing persons report. Take her identification with you and pictures you have of her.”

  “Okay. We have two hours before the show. We can go now and be back in time.”

  Shae hugged the young girl. Candy was only twenty. Tasha had turned twenty-one. They were the youngest girls in her organization. She felt responsible for them. "If you need me I will be at Spago tonight before the show. I'll see you afterward. Okay?"

  “Do you think something bad happened to her? I saw on the news where they found another girl dead.”

  "No. She probably decided to do what Carrie did and went back home to Tulsa. Either way, we're going to find her. I promise."

  ***

  Carlo had a spending account. He even requested money be put on Shae’s account. She would have to approve the money transfer, but he had no doubt that she would. He walked through the posh designer avenue of the Forum stopping to look in the window of high-end stores and boutiques. He wanted something special that screamed the words ‘I'm sorry.' Something unique to Shae. He stopped in front of a mannequin. She wore a low cut black dress with raspberry pink stones trimming the bodice and lining the split. His lady loved pink. And he preferred her in dresses that showed her curves. It was perfect. Carlo went inside and paid three thousand for the dress. It turned out to be from Mirabella's ready-to-wear designer collection. He even had one of the sales girls model a few other dresses that he bought for Shae. The woman was a size smaller than Shae. So he guessed the size perfect for her. Before he left the woman slipped him her card and offered to give him a tour of Vegas. He tossed it in the trash. He may not know all the pitfalls of dating a headstrong woman, but he knew this one. Shae found him with another woman's number, and she'd cut off his balls.

  He smiled. The next store he entered had perfumes from all over the world. He sniffed a few scents and picked two for Shae. Before he paid, he noticed her favorite. Shalimar. He wanted to get her something different, to show some thought. But Shalimar lotion is what she rubbed over her body before she joined him in bed every night. It smelled like heaven on Shae's skin as he drifted to sleep.

  The sales clerk looked behind her to see what he was staring at. “That’s Shalimar. Have you smelled it?”

  “I have,” he said.

  “Very soft, very subtle,” she said.

  “Give me the lotion. Two bottles.”

  The woman plucked it and put it into a bag. He paid and left. Carlo continued with his shopping. Jewels were what she needed. Every time Lorenzo fought with Marietta he bought her a bigger diamond. Lorenzo said it worked. He stopped in front of a jeweler and stared at a diamond-encrusted watch and a diamond choker. One or both should do the trick. Carlo went inside. The security guard gave him a funny look. He signaled for the man behind the counter to come over. He ignored the stares of the other sales people.

  “How much?” he asked.

  “Ah, for which?”

  “The necklace and the watch.”

  “Sir, the watch is thirty-thousand, and the necklace is eighty-five thousand.”

  “I’ll take both.”

  The sales person’s eyes stretched. “Yes, sir. Right away.”

  Carlo bought the gems and had them gift wrapped. It took longer to seal the deal though. They had to call the hotel and confirm his spending account, as if he were a thief. He hated the way people assumed he was scum, no matter how he dressed or behave. But he tolerated it. More important to him was sweeping Shae off her feet.

  When the deal was done and he had his purchase, everyone in the store tried to make nice with him. Including the security guard.

  “Vaffanculo—fuck off!” he grumbled and left. From the corner of his eye he noticed two men had stopped as well. His gaze shifted left. The men were pretending to look at a vendor’s booth. But he recognized Mr. Chipped Tooth. They were hot on his tail. Carlo smirked, he had some excess frustration he needed to work off. He looked for a sign for the toilet. He saw it ahead. He walked into the area and only three men were at the urinals. Carlo set his bags down. He began to wash his hands. The men walked in. He didn’t need to look up; he heard one of them order the other men in the bathroom out. Carlo turned off the water. He shook his hands dry at the sink.

  “You owe me a thousand dollars, meatball.”

  Carlo stood erect. The man behind him drew closer. “You hear me talking to you, spaghetti? Think I forgot? We don’t have la Camorra in Tahvo’s town!”

  The idiot touched his left shoulder. Carlo swung around from the right and delivered a hard punch to the nose. Then he grabbed Mr. Chipped Tooth and slammed his head against the sink basin making a crunching sound. He thought the man was dead. His partner charged with a knife. Carlo ducked and swung up delivering a blow to the man’s throat. He must have hit his larynx. The man grabbed his throat and started making choking, wheezing sounds as his eyes stretched, bulged. He too dropped to the ground. Carlo kicked him in the gut and then the face. The man was knocked unconscious.

  Mr. Chipped Tooth wasn’t unconscious. Car
lo thought his head must have been made of concrete to still be alive. The man groaned and tried to roll over to his side. Carlo stopped him by slamming his foot down on his gut.

  “Do you know me?” he asked.

  The man smelled as if he’d shit himself. Carlo frowned. He waited for another response and got nothing. He delivered two hard kicks to the man’s side. “Do you know me?”

  “No!” the man wailed in pain.

  “And you know even less of la Camorra. Right?”

  “Right! Fuck, man! Okay!”

  Satisfied that his message was delivered he smoothed back his hair and picked up his bags for his lady. Carlo started out of the bathroom. A man and his son were on their way in. They saw the two men on the floor and made a hasty retreat. Carlo checked his watch. He had less than an hour before dinner. He prayed he’d make it back to the room before Shae.

  ***

  Shae opened the door to her suite. She entered a quiet place absent of her girls. They were all at work or downstairs getting ready for show time. She knew she overreacted with Carlo. She wasn’t sure why his dismissive attitude hurt her. It was his way. For Carlo women were whores until proven otherwise. It wasn’t okay to have such a sexist misogynistic view, but it was from the world he came from.

  “Carlo?”

  “In here, bella,” he said.

  Shae kicked off her heels and left them at the door. She walked across the cool marble floor in her bare feet. She went into the room prepared to kiss and make up. But she wasn’t prepared for what she found. Carlo stood by the bed. Spread out across it was a dress, shoes, and two gift boxes.

  “What is this?”

  “Happy birthday,” he smiled.

  She chuckled. “I told you that it wasn’t a big deal.”

  “Open it,” he said.

  Shae didn’t hesitate. She opened the square box first. A diamond Rolex sparkled on a velvet pillow. “Oh shit!” she gasped.

  Carlo smiled. “Open the other one.”

  “Carlo! This is too much!”

  “Open the other one.”

  She picked up the other box with shaky hands. She opened it and nearly dropped it from her fingers it was so hot. “Is this real? Real diamonds?”