Private Vegas (Private 9)

Judge Johnson dismissed the witness, adding that court was adjourned until two in the afternoon. I left the courthouse by a back door, got out to the curb unnoticed to wait for my cab.

I was looking up the street when a red Ferrari zoomed into my view. As the car came closer, the driver honked the horn.

It was Tommy. Our eyes locked, and in that brief moment, he grinned and blew me a kiss.

Asshole.

My brother is a gambler.

He was betting that he was going to take me down.

How did he think he could pull that off?

Chapter 29

GOZAN REMARI WHISTLED through his teeth as he drove the rented Bentley north on Rodeo Drive, down the three-block-long strip of extravagant stores. The fantastic shopping area was planted with palm trees on the median, and palms poked through the sidewalks fronting the stores.

Palm trees! In Sumar, there were no trees, and here, they were everywhere, waving their flirty branches, hellooo.

There were really no suitable words in Sumarin to describe Rodeo Drive, so Gozan spoke in English, telling his nephew that Rodeo was the jewel in the crown of Beverly Hills.

“Khezzy. Look here. Bulgari, Escada, Harry Winston, Gucci. Isn’t this wonderful?”

Khezir was in a black mood since they’d gotten evicted from the Beverly Hills Hotel. He had liked the bungalow. He had liked the garden around it. He was not ready to go back to New York. And he might never be ready to go back to Sumar.

“You need a nice new suit of clothes, nephew. That will cheer you up.”

The traffic was clotted with flashy high-ticket autos, and wealthy residents and tourists strolled into the designer stores.

Gozan parked the Bentley in a no-parking zone, waited for Khezir to get out, and then locked up. Khezzy called out to his uncle, “You think shopping is going to cheer me up? I don’t think so.”

“Think again,” said Gozan.

A peachy type of woman and a woman who looked just like a younger version of her were heading into a high-end shop called Mariah Koo. Each woman wore tight jeans, a blousy silk shirt, and high heels. The older one had a deep neckline with her bosoms almost spilling out.

The Sumaris walked through the front doors of the shop, and Gozan was impressed by the scent of flowers, the upbeat techno music, and the elegant decor. The walls were seamless black lacquer, and the clothing was displayed on individual stands that were spotlighted islands of color against the black marble floor.

A young man came over to where Gozan and Khezir stood inside the doorway. He was handsome, with blue eyes and thick black hair. A gold stud winked in the lobe of his left ear.

He said his name was Brian and he asked how he could help them today, and would they like coffee or champagne?

Gozan said, “Coffee, please. With milk and sugar.”

Gozan saw that men’s clothing was to the left, and the women’s area was on the right. The two juicy ladies he’d seen going into the store were grazing among the clothing displays. He could tell at a glance that there would be a sparse selection for curvy women, so he and Khezzy would have to strike quickly, before the pair left the premises.

Brian went off to get coffee, and Gozan and Khezir worked out a plan. It was one of their best yet.

Chapter 30

WHILE KHEZIR TRIED on sports coats, Gozan took possession of a silver-leather club chair in the ladies’ section. He was reading the Financial Times, smiling at the peachy women, when he got a call and was forced to get up from his fine catbird seat and have a conversation behind a rack of coats.

The voice on the other end of the line belonged to someone he knew well, a man who was not in charge of him but still made demands.

Gozan spoke into the phone, keeping his voice very low.

“You worry too much. I understand. And you should understand whom you are speaking to.”

He signed off, put his phone away, and took a moment to return to his earlier mood. Soon he was back in the fine leather chair, nodding approval when the daughter came out of the dressing room to spin in front of the tall, silvery mirrors.