“I see him!” On the far side of the gardens, a woman shrieked for all to hear. “He’s over here!”
The crowd surged forward, pushing Donovan before it like the tide tossing a surfer onto the beach. He saw nothing worthy of captivating such a crowd until he heard a jubilant shout of “I found him!”
Seeking the source, he spied a young blonde woman in the garden leaning around a topiary of a bear. She was lithe and lovely, and why she was creeping through the flowers like a deer eluded him. Her soft lips moved in words he couldn’t hear. Donovan scanned the garden until he found a man, tall, muscled, equally blond, but so pale he couldn’t possibly be a Vegas native. The two were converging on what he finally recognized as a large white rabbit nibbling leaves off a shrub.
Donovan smirked. How he wished he could see the looks on his lunch guests’ faces when they learned that some crazy tourists were trampling a few thousand dollars’ worth of potted plants. It was such a ludicrous sight, Donovan almost missed the danger to his left.
“Can you catch him?” called out a petite redhead in another part of the garden. Behind her, looking toward the blonde, Mickey Kincaid was wading through flowers.
Donovan’s eyes narrowed. Turner had told him of Kincaid’s escape last night. What the hell was he doing cavorting in the conservatory with…was that Fortune’s daughter?
Kincaid seemed to hear his thoughts and speared him with a stare. “You!” He pushed past Iris Fortune, nearly knocking her off balance.
“What the-?” She barely remained on her feet.
With a singleness of purpose Donovan could appreciate, Kincaid came after him. But Donovan had a good lead to start, and he pushed his way through the crowd to get to the exit. He didn’t pause when he cleared the conservatory but dashed through the lobby for the front doors.
A security guard near the concierge desk recognized him. “Mr. Donovan?”
He slowed. “There’s a man back there who threatened me. I’m afraid he’ll cause trouble.”
“No trouble, sir.” The guard scanned the crowded lobby. Already, he was talking into the radio headset wired to his ear.
Kincaid emerged a moment later, a bit wild-eyed, and pointed at Donovan. “Stop him.”
“Leave this to me, sir,” the guard said, stepping forward.
“With pleasure.” Without a backward glance, Donovan strolled out the front door and climbed into his waiting limousine, where he called Turner to tell him where he could find his next hit.
Mickey couldn’t believe his luck at seeing the Boss in the Bellagio’s conservatory. Dressed in a well-cut gray suit, lavender shirt and purple power tie, the guy looked like the consummate businessman. So much so, it took Mickey’s brain a few moments to identify who he was. “You!”
His quarry had already recognized him and retreated into the crowd like a fish swimming upstream. Mickey trampled flowers and nearly knocked Iris off her feet to give chase. “Hunter!” he shouted, hoping his partner would have enough sense to follow.
He lost the Boss in the crowd and wasted too much time when his feet slid to a stop on the polished tile of the Bellagio’s lobby, awash as it was with more people. His fingers itched to draw his gun, but he didn’t dare. He just wanted to capture one man, not start a shooting spree. Besides, if he brandished a gun in a hotel lobby with all these innocent bystanders, no cop or security guard would hesitate to drop him.
From behind him, he heard Hunter grunt as he shouldered past someone. “What did you see?”
“Not what, who. The Boss is here.” Mickey shook his head in frustration as they walked through the lobby slowly. “I think I lost him.”
“Are you sure you’re not seeing things?”
“No.” Mickey’s eyes trained on the back of a gray suit talking to a black suit near the far end of the hotel’s front desk. “Stop him!” He charged forward, his eyes intent on the Boss as he exited through the front door.
Before he reached the entrance, Mickey was tackled by two bruisers. About the time he was kissing the tile floor, he realized the black suits were Bellagio security. Shit, Hunter was probably laughing his ass off. Mickey’s unique-and low profile-perspective didn’t allow him to see whether Hunter continued the chase.
Didn’t take the guys on his back ten seconds to find his gun, and that earned him an extra cuff across the head. When they wrestled him to his feet, Mickey saw Hunter, badge in hand, speaking with another black suit who appeared to be in charge near the concierge desk. A crowd had formed a knot in the lobby. Great, he’d become more of a curiosity than Edgar running amok in the garden. Hopefully, Iris and Allie had caught the rabbit.
Hunter approached. With a nod to his two captors, he said, “I’ll take him from here, gentleman. Thank you.” He pulled out handcuffs, and Mickey resigned himself to playing his role until they left the building. He shut his mouth and tried to give the general impression of sulkiness and being pissed off. Neither was a stretch-it did piss him off that the Boss had gotten away.
Hunter conjured up a plastic bag and collected Mickey’s gun in it before he ushered Mickey out the giant revolving door to the busy valet area. “My car’s this way.” He pushed Mickey ahead of him.
“Easy,” Mickey muttered. A white stretch limo caught his eye and he stopped, making Hunter stumble into him.
“What?” his partner asked testily.
Mickey pointed with his head in the limo’s direction. “That’s him, pulling out into traffic. Get his license plate.”
“I don’t need his plates. I already know who he is.” They watched the limo drive away then Hunter nudged him toward an illegally parked Sentra. “Get in.”
“But-”
“Inside,” Hunter ordered.
Mickey folded his legs and let Hunter guide his head as he lowered himself into the backseat. He waited for Hunter to get in and turn the engine to life. “Are you going to tell me?”
Hunter turned to consider him, his jaw set in an uncompromising line. “That guy you chased down doesn’t have any priors, so that’s why you couldn’t find a picture of him in our system. That’s Robert Donovan.” He raised his brows and waited.
Mickey’s eyes narrowed. “Where do I know that name from?”
“Maybe the business section of the newspaper or the evening news. He owns half a dozen casinos in town. Are you sure that’s your Boss?”
“Positive.”
Hunter sighed.
“Bring him in for questioning.”
“Just like that?” Hunter shook his head. “Donovan has the kind of lawyers who’d have a field day destroying my career for even showing up on his doorstep. We’ve got nothing concrete to link him to these crimes. The DA won’t go near him until we do.”
“I know he’s behind all this.”
“Knowing’s not enough. You have to be able to prove it. Seriously, what’s a guy like this going to do with ten million in Russian gems? What could mythical alexandrite possibly do for him that he couldn’t do for himself with his own money?”
Mickey remained silent. He didn’t know the answer, but he suspected Cosmo Fortune did.
Chapter Fifteen
Iris climbed out of the sea of yellow flowers onto the tiled walkway only to be jostled by the crowd. How Mickey had plowed through them she had no clue, nor did she understand why he’d taken off like a madman.
To hell with him. All he cared about was his case. She didn’t need his help to catch Edgar.
Pushing through the crowd, she came to the other planted area. Apparently, Edgar had disappeared below the surface of the flora, because Allie was kneeling in the flowers, skimming the red and white blooms with her hand. It had taken her and her sixth sense less than a minute to conclude Edgar would head for these over-the-top gardens. Iris had to admit she was developing a healthy respect for her sister’s instincts.