She’d called her new lawyer, Monroe, and once again, even after he heard Winston had put his hands on her, he’d advised her to quit making him angry and marry the man. She’d fired him on the spot and then gone to an attorney’s office and had the papers drawn up to make it official. That wasn’t like her at all. She tended to let things go. Not this time. Kevin Bennet had been such a superb lawyer she felt if she kept Monroe, it was an insult to Kevin.
She waited, her breath coming too fast, and she feared she might hyperventilate. She made a deliberate effort to slow it down. She had to be clearheaded and think out each move ahead of time. She knew if she made it out the door, the elevator would be there waiting. It had to be. There was no other choice.
Soleil peeked out of the bedroom again. Winston had turned his back to her and was reaching down for his gleaming shoes. They were always shined to perfection, but he never passed up a chance to shine them again. It was now or never. She sprinted across the room, scooped up her jacket and phone and ran from the suite. It was only a few steps to the elevator, and she had the key in her hand.
Behind her, Winston shouted expletives and commands, but she didn’t turn around. The elevator doors opened, and she stepped in and hit the shut button to override the wait period, her heart pounding. The doors closed, and she caught a glimpse of his furious face as she stabbed at the button to take her to the lobby. Even if he ran down the stairs, he’d never catch her. He would have to wait for the elevator. It was private, just for those four suites. He had insisted on the best and he’d have to reap the consequences.
She shoved her phone into the inside pocket of her jacket and slipped the jacket on before gripping the golden rail with both hands. He would expect her to take the nearest exit, either the private one or the one to the front of the hotel that opened onto the main strip near all the little shops. The back exit of the hotel let one out on the street parallel to the main strip. If she took that one and cut through the next hotel, she would be close to the section Winston had warned her about. The bars and massage parlors. He claimed they were nice enough, just not for her. Hopefully he wouldn’t look for her there while she decided on the best course of action.
She ran through the lobby, uncaring of turning heads. One didn’t run in a very swank hotel. She wanted to grab security, but Winston had a way of talking that made her look hysterical or childish and him look totally controlled, the adult having to put up with tantrums. She wasn’t about to take chances, not when she knew they planned to kill her.
Who would believe her? Her own fiancé? A lawyer? A policeman? All conspiring to kill her? She would look crazy and Winston would explain she’d lost Bennet, the only one she had as family. He would get sympathy and understanding, and they would all look to him to take care of her. He’d probably sedate her. Did he have a doctor involved too? It was possible. She’d met one through him, one he considered important.
She burst out onto the street, her lungs hurting. Clearly, she needed more exercise if she was going to have to run for her life. Her thoughts were wild and a little hysterical. She couldn’t have that. It would only play into Winston’s hand. She raced to the crosswalk, and fortunately the light changed and there were few people in her way. She was able to cross quickly and get into the relative shelter of the hotel-casino on the next street.
Noise erupted all around her. The concentrated smoke from cigarettes threatened to choke her. For a moment, she paused, a little disoriented. The whiskey she’d drunk was making her feel a lot better. Clearer. She knew exactly what to do. She made her way through the casino with more dignity, not wanting to draw attention to herself.
The casino floor was set up so that the exits were difficult to get to. Every little turn put her in front of card tables, the roulette wheel, craps, or, when she managed to find her way through the maze, machines. A sea of them. They didn’t matter. The drinks had finally steadied her, and she was feeling as if she was in control and could do this.
Still, it was a good distance to the exits and it took her a few minutes to make her way to the other side of the room. The casino was enormous, so much so that she knew she’d probably covered a block at least. She had to have. But she walked with more confidence and less panic. Every now and then, just to be certain, she glanced over her shoulder, or paused at a machine to see if Winston was behind her. So far, her plan had worked. Most likely, he’d gone out onto the strip and worried she’d hailed a cab or taken one of the hotel’s private limos. She was afraid to do that. He could trace a cab, and he’d talk any driver into coming back for him.