See Jayne Play (19 page)

I took careful steps toward the building and pushed through the double doors that led to the cold, empty lobby. Making my way toward the elevators, I looked around, making sure that I was alone, and pushed the button that would lead me upstairs.

The elevator ride did nothing to calm my nerves. My hands shook and my heart thumped against my ribs like thunder. My mind was tired and unable to process everything I was feeling, so planning was impossible. I was going to have to wing it, even if it got us all killed.

At that point, I didn’t even care. I wanted it over with. All of it. My life had been turned on its ass, and it would never be the same. I would never be the same. I knew in that moment, caged between the steel walls of that elevator, that if I made it out alive, I would be lost anyway.

The machine dinged, and the doors slid open with a swoosh. I looked up and found Sullivan standing outside, grinning like a smarmy cat.

“
Miss King. Mr. Maguire is expecting you.”

I bet he was. I was sure his son alerted him to my escape, and the gut-wrenching pain lit up my insides like an ulcer.

He led me toward the office I’d met him in countless times in the past. The room where I’d had to pass over the money I’d earned while allowing men and women to use me for their amusement. Bitterness reared up in my throat, and I pushed back the urge to gag.

Flinging the door open and waving his hand in front of me, he followed me inside. As soon as I looked up, I wished I hadn’t come. I was in over my head, and I wasn’t ready for what I saw across from me.

My father was strapped down in a metal chair, his head hung down, lifeless and heavy. He was covered in blood, his once white shirt filthy with deep brown stains. Dried blood. Old blood.

“
Daddy,” I choked. I flung myself forward, only to get yanked backward against Sullivan.

“
I have to say, I didn’t expect this.”

My head swung toward the left and my eyes landed on Doyle, sitting like a fat king on his pathetic throne on the other side of the room. He smiled and then stood, nodding at my father.

“
It’s a shame you failed, Miss King. It’s a shame you used my son to do your dirty work.”

“
What the hell are you talking about?” I snapped. “You and your son used me!”

He chuckled, stood, and walked around the desk he sat behind. “I’d been impressed with your efforts, Jayne. I never expected you to step up and save his ass. But, I have to say, it was creative. I always thought you’d make a damn fine whore.”

“
Eat shit!” I yelled.

“
Yes, and a mouth fit for a whore.”

He walked closer, every step causing my body to shudder with disgust. “I paid you! You got your damn money!”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. “The money was mine in the first place, Miss King. Did you really think I’d allow him to go free when you tricked me into taking my own money to pay a debt?” He clucked his tongue. “Tsk, tsk. You are a smart woman. You should have known better.”

Bile pooled in my throat. I’d been the one tricked by his selfish bastard of a son. All along, every penny I’d received from Flynn had been in vain. He’d taken me, and then taken the money. I’d been used in the most deplorable way.

“
I had no idea Flynn was involved! I would have never taken a dime of his damn money had I known. All I wanted was my father!”

Standing in front of me, he reached out and ran his finger down my cheek, causing me to flinch. He grabbed my chin, holding me steady as he spoke.

“
I can see what my son saw in you. You’re a damn fine piece of ass, but that’s all you are, sweet Jayne. A dalliance before he marries.”

My eyes widened.

“
Oh, of course you had no idea. I have to say, I’m proud of the boy. He had his fun, and he made sure you didn’t screw me over in the process.”

His fingers squeezed down on my chin, and he brought his face close enough that I could smell the bittersweet smell of his cigar on his breath.

“
And I got what I wanted, in the end. Your father has been a nuisance for years, and I’ve ridden myself of him. I wanted the girls, and your friend had no choice but to relinquish them. I don’t like people getting in my way, Jayne King. I always get what I want.”

The familiar sentiment shot through me with a pain I’d never felt before. Had it only been a few days before that his son said the same thing? They were all the same—men thirsty for power and nothing else.

A loud band rang out behind me, and we all turned to see who it was. The tears I’d held onto earlier suddenly fell from my eyes when I laid eyes on Flynn, disheveled and eyes as black as night.

“
Get your hands off her,” he growled.

He stalked across the room toward us, and I felt myself pulled back against Doyle’s chest, a gun rammed underneath my jaw.

“
This ends, Son. She dies either way. Take one step, and you’ll watch me blow a hole through her skull.”

Flynn’s entire body locked up, and his feet skidded to sudden stop. His name was on the tip of my tongue, a plea, to beg him to tell me it was all a lie, and that the days I’d spent wrapped up in his arms was the only truth.

“
You have the money, King’s gone… Just let her go.”

Doyle’s arm wrapped tighter around my torso, and my breath felt tight. The cold metal of the gun felt like ice against my skin, and I had no doubt he would pull the trigger without a second thought.

Movement from the corner of my eye caught my attention, and before I could react, a shot rang out and I watched Sullivan fall to the ground with a heavy thud.

I cried out, and Flynn charged toward us. Another shot rang out, and then another, and I felt myself being dragged off my feet and carried across the room. It all happened so fast, like a blur. I couldn’t focus with the sounds of bodies falling and bullets flying filling my head like a symphony of madness.

I kicked at Doyle, desperately trying to get out of his grasp. His arms tightened, but I no longer felt the gun, so I took a chance and rolled over, shoving my knee into his groin. Hard.

He groaned, and I took that moment to flee. I looked around the room, and the shrill scream that escaped me was nothing short of gut-wrenching.

Vince lay bleeding not five feet away from me, his chambray shirt soaked in the gruel color of crimson and the floor beneath him stained with his blood. I had no idea where he came from. I was confused. At first, my instinct was to feel relieved that he hadn’t been taken by them, but with him lying on the floor in his own blood, I wanted to scream at him for being so stupid.

I scrambled to my feet, and as quickly as I could fell beside him. “Vince. Open your eyes. Please. Open them!”

A sob died in my chest as I took a shaky hand to his throat. It was there, a pulse, but it was faint, hanging on by a thread.

“
Please, don’t die on me, damn you! Please!”

As desperate as my plea had been, it was futile and it broke my heart. There was no way I was getting him out of there, and he wasn’t making it out alive. There was nothing I could do. I was helpless, weak. After everything I’d gone through, I’d still lost everything.

“
Go.” His voice was hardly a whisper, more of a choke than anything as his eyes fluttered.

“
No!” I cried. “I can’t. I can’t leave you.”

He tried to take another breath, and then nothing. My chest tightened, constricted with pain, regret, and remorse. What the hell was I supposed to do?

There was a scuffle behind me, and shaking myself out of the cloud of confusion I’d been in, it hit me that Doyle was still alive, and probably ready to kill me.

I stood, still in shock and shaky, and turned to face him. My eyes widened when I saw Flynn flat on his back, lying in the same position as Vince, and like him, he was shot.

I covered my mouth, my fingers numb, and his name came out of my throat as a whisper. Fear pricked at my back as I looked around the room, finding it oddly calm and Doyle nowhere in sight.

He’d fled.

As badly as I wanted to go to him, I couldn’t. He broke my heart, left me to bleed out like discarded prey, and ironically, that’s exactly what I’d been to Flynn. Prey.

Sirens echoed from somewhere in the distance, and I knew I didn’t have another second to think. I let my eyes sweep over the room once more, the morbid reality hitting me like a live grenade.

Everything that mattered to me died in that cold, empty room. My father, Vince, Flynn… dead, or dying, and I was close to becoming the next fatality. Not knowing where Doyle had gone, or what he’d do if he found me, I broke into a full sprint and got the hell out of there.

My heart tugged—yanked on my soul and tried to drag my backward, back to the men I loved. I wanted to throw myself atop of their lifeless bodies and beg them to come back to me. Every part of me wanted to shake my father one last time, piss him off and tell him how he’d ruined my life. My arms yearned to hug him again and have him tug on my hair. There was so much confusion inside my heart.

Memories of pockets full of candy and long drives through the desert to shoot at tin cans flooded me. Handsome smiles and bright hazel eyes matching mine filled me with a grief so strong I didn’t think my legs would continue moving.

Having Vince hold me when I cried or when I was scared would never happen again. I’d never hear his laugh at my kitchen table or see his big dumb grin when I opened the door. We’d never lie on the beach and drink Mexican beer when he’d visit me in California. Nothing. I had nothing.

It seemed to be more difficult to pull the memories of Flynn to the forefront, even though I’d been with the man only an hour earlier. I’d already started packing them away, the hurt he’d caused too intense to process. I hadn’t had enough time, not enough distance. He chipped away at me, took parts of me away that I’d never glue together.

He’d ruined me.

Used me.

Thrown me to the wolves.

And in the end, he’d taken a bullet, or two. It was ironic, in a way, how things had worked out.

The glaring light from the sun outside blinded me as I hit the street below. I didn’t know what to do next, but the instinct was still strong, so I continued to run. I couldn’t go home, and I couldn’t go back to Flynn’s, so I was left with one alternative.

There was only one person left I could turn to, and it wasn’t ideal. Options were low, so in desperation, I hailed a cab and gave the man orders to drive me to the Tropicana.

SEVENTEEN

Eleanor was a beautiful woman in her mid-fifties with an overdone hairstyle and tacky wardrobe. She’d been a showgirl in her younger days, and far more gorgeous than any movie star I’d ever seen.

She was also my stepmother.

The marriage only lasted eight months, but she was good to us. My father fucked it up, as he did with everything else, but she continued to be a constant in my life. Even through my rebellious teen years, she never gave up on me. She’d been the one to get me my first dancing gig, and even though she hadn’t been crazy about the idea, she knew it was that, or I would’ve ended up in bigger trouble.

Which I did anyway.

She never remarried. She was still in love with my dad, and I always felt sorry for her. She just couldn’t deal with his antics. He’d wooed her with promises, promises he never intended to keep. She fell for his handsome face and his drop-dead smile. The money didn’t hurt, but once she realized he was a hustler, she wanted out.

The cab pulled up in front of the familiar casino and I leaned forward, asking the driver to wait.

He was probably scared out of his mind, seeing that I was hysterical and covered in blood, so he nodded, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

I ran to the door and continued through the casino to the elevators, riding it up as quickly as it would take me. As soon as I was on her floor, I flew toward her room and began knocking like a lunatic and screaming her name. The door swung open and I fell against her.

She hesitated for a moment until she realized who it was, then pulled me tightly against her.

“
Janie… what’s going on?”

I looked up at her with tear streaked cheeks and bloodshot eyes. “It’s Daddy. He’s… he’s…”

“
Oh God.”

I felt her shake and the tears fell harder, faster. In her arms, I felt safe, comfortable enough to let it out and let go. She understood. She felt it, too.

She pulled back, wiped at the moisture in her eyes, and cleared her throat. “What’s going on, Janie? What happened?”

I shook my head, the answers spinning around with nowhere to go. Where did I start? How could I explain what occurred? It all sounded so unbelievable, like a tacky B-movie. My reality had officially become stranger than fiction.

She could see the stress in my features and waved me into the other room. “Come on, honey. You need to sit, and you need to tell me what’s going on.”

Sitting in her humble hotel room, surrounded by the gaudy furniture and tasteless knick-knacks, I yearned for the days when things were simple. Not that my life had ever been that simple, but there were moments when things were quieter, fun. Eleanor provided me with many of those moments.