Burn in Hell_A Jake Carrington Mystery Read online

  Burn in Hell

  A Jake Carrington Mystery

  Marian Lanouette

  Burn in Hell, A Jake Carrington Mystery © 2012 by Marian Lanouette

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or events, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  ISBN: 978-0-9963821-2-0

  This book is dedicated to my amazing sisters, Cathy, Theresa, Brenda, and in loving memory of Florence, for believing and encouraging me to follow my dreams.

  Love you all!

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Other works from the Author

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  About the Author

  Also Available by Marian Lanouette

  Excerpt from If I Fail

  Acknowledgements

  To my ‘from the cradle to the grave friends’, Dorothy, Maureen, and Kathy. My life is so much more enriched from knowing and loving you.

  A special thanks to Apieling Pictures LLC for the great author picture.

  Burn in Hell, A Jake Carrington Mystery Book Two in the Jake Carrington Mystery

  Other works by Marian Lanouette

  If I Fail, A Jake Carrington Mystery Book One

  As the World Ends

  Coming in 2016

  Mated for Life, A Jake Carrington Mystery Book Three

  Written as Merry Holly

  Season of Magic

  Season of Love

  Season of Surprises

  Season of Thrills

  Chapter One

  “Son of a bitch,” Kyra whispered.

  Life’s not fair. In the last two hours she’d dumped over three thousand dollars into the Goddamn machine. This bitch sits down right next to her and hits the jackpot on the first spin. I’ll never get my son back this way.

  Kyra Russell wiped away the tears that rolled down her face. Why couldn’t she hit the jackpot? Ten grand—she only needed ten grand to pay her lawyer. Taking another hundred-dollar bill out of her purse, she stuffed it into the machine and hit the maximum-credit button, anticipating the results. Loving the rush, her stomach jumped with excitement. Each time, her mind cheered ‘this is it.’ As the wheels rolled into place, a cold chill raced through her veins. One by one, they landed. By the second symbol, she realized she’d lost again. Kyra’s heartbeat increased, pounding in her chest, beating in her ears like African tribal drums, causing her anger to spike. It’s the next one, she told herself, banging the maximum-credit button again. Lord, she needed to take a pee break, though didn’t dare leave her machine for fear someone else would hit the jackpot after she’d primed the machine.

  Watching the attendant pay the woman, Kyra counted along with him. The bitch won seventy-five hundred dollars. After the woman received her payout, Kyra tried signaling the attendant.

  “Excuse me,” she called.

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “I need to use the restroom. Can you watch my machine or lock it down?”

  “I need to call a supervisor over. It’ll be a few minutes.”

  He pressed the button in his earpiece. She watched him whisper into it. After ten minutes, the supervisor came over and locked down the machine for her, letting her know she needed to be back within the hour or they’d release the machine.

  “Thank you.”

  “Not a problem, Kyra,” the supervisor said.

  He read her name off her reward card, addressing her like he knew her. Well, screw him.

  She pushed off her seat, rushing to the ladies’ room. Kyra didn’t want to stay away too long, giving them a chance to re-program the machine against her or reset it. She hated the new system with the tickets. Since they’d installed it, she hadn’t won like she used to. How else could she lose constantly? Winning used to be the norm when she first started. It became addictive. She’d won twenty-five thousand dollars on one spin. On another night, she’d won eight thousand dollars.

  Boy, the cash rolled in then. The feeling was indescribable when those wheels rolled into place and the bells went off. The noise the machine made when it hit a jackpot had crowds surrounding her. Though on that night she’d gone home with only twenty thousand dollars—she’d blown five grand trying to win more. Greed always took over. Winning excited her. It was the rush, the euphoria she got every time she pushed the spin button that kept her coming back.

  The casino treated her like royalty, even gave her a host. He got her into the popular shows or restaurants anytime she wanted. Nothing was too good for Kyra, as long as she showed up and put her money into the machine. She became a regular at the players’ lounge—eat and drink for free. Yeah, free, her ass. The cost was extreme. Somewhere along the line, Kyra lost her self-respect—along with her marriage, her son, and her savings.

  Kyra started putting more money into the machines, hoping for bigger payouts. How it got out of control she didn’t know, but soon everything she loved would be gone. Our divorce has turned into a custody battle for Trevor. The bastard doesn’t want custody—he wants to bring me to my knees.

  Losing Trevor would kill her. He needed her. Truth be told, she needed him. A big win would solve everything. Tears rolled down her face as she sat on the toilet. Not caring who heard her cry, she whispered, “Please, God, just one big win and I Promise, I’ll never gamble again.”

  She listened, but God didn’t answer. Pulling up her pants she hurried back to her machine. Three hundred dollars left, her Visa card maxed out. Much worse, they’d expected her payment days ago. Tommy—the bane of her existence, the man who took away her debit card—had rendered it useless when he pulled the funds from their joint accounts.

  Kyra tried to stay away, honestly she did. It’s crazy, after a day, she’d start to sweat, she got antsy, her fingers itched, her mouth went dry—in her mind, it became a matter of life or death. She needed to get to the casino. She couldn’t explain it to anyone. Hell—she couldn’t explain it to herself. No wonder the nuns at school always preached against the evils of gam
bling.

  With her head down, she sat at her machine, waiting on the supervisor to come back—to unlock the machine so she could play again. More than anything, she needed to win. A hand landed on her shoulder, startling her. Jerking away, Kyra turned to see who belonged to the hand. Crap, not the supervisor. Joe Dillon, not exactly the person I want to see right now.

  “Kyra.”

  “Hey, Joe.”

  “How’s it going?” Her host sat down next to her.

  “Not good,” she whined.

  “I’m sorry to hear it. You know you have a payment due soon?”

  Double crapola. “Yes, I know.”

  “Why don’t you leave the machine for a while? Come have something to eat with me?”

  What could he be up to, she wondered?

  “Why?”

  “Why? Kyra, let’s discuss your loan payment over dinner, explore your options.”

  What options? There weren’t any. All week she racked her brain trying to find a solution to the mess. Though a quiet guy, Joe scared her. Deep inside, she understood he could destroy her. Not a person she’d want to cross.

  “Kyra?”

  Chapter Two

  “Kyra, please, no one’s going to touch your machine. Maybe a break will change your luck?”

  “What the hell. I could eat,” Kyra hissed. Something had to change.

  “How about a steak?”

  “Fine.”

  They got up at the same time, bumping into each other. Joe sat back down, let Kyra get up first. He followed her as she headed to the Trenton Steak House. Joe grabbed her arm and pointed to the private elevator that went directly to the entrance to the Whale Room. She looked at him. He smiled.

  “What’s up, Joe?”

  “I think you need a real break Kyra, so we’ll head up.”

  Curiosity got the better of her, but she figured she’d find out what he was up to in good time. Then the fear struck her. Maybe she shouldn’t leave the floor with him. She owed the casino seventy-five thousand dollars. Behind on her payments, she spent three grand tonight trying to win her next payment. Stupid—how could I be so stupid? I should’ve made a partial payment with the three grand instead of gambling tonight. They wouldn’t beat up her up, would they? Tasting the bile as it violently pushed up from her stomach, scorching a path to her throat. Kyra couldn’t control the tears that flooded into her eyes when she started to choke.

  “Are you all right, Kyra?”

  “I don’t want to leave the public floor, Joe.” Kyra’s hands shook along with her entire body. Unable to control her voice as it cracked, her mind searching for an escape.

  “I have a deal for you, but I can’t discuss it in an open area. We’ll discuss it upstairs, over dinner.” He flashed his pearly whites.

  Sure he meant his smile to calm her, it did the opposite. Oh yeah, the farmer leading the cow to the slaughter. “What kind of deal?”

  “We’ll discuss it upstairs,” he repeated firmly.

  “You’re not going to break my legs or anything, are you?” she half-heartily joked.

  “No such thing, Kyra. Relax.” Now’s the time too really worry, she thought. Just like the “trust me” phrase, it gave her the willies.

  *

  Joe Dillon studied Kyra as they rode up in the elevator. To look at her, you’d never guess she’d lost control of her life. He liked her curves, her lips, and the wild, curly red hair. Shorter than he, she stood about five feet four inches—he didn’t like looking up at a woman. Too many women today were taller than him. He looked into her green, green eyes, his mind taking off in all directions. Not now, Joe. Kyra’s not worth the trouble. He knew she had a son—her divorce a byproduct of gambling. The boss told him this morning she was losing custody of her son. What woman gambles to the point of losing her child? Joe thought about the deal he’d be offering her, dragging her down even further. He pushed the guilt from his mind. Not my fucking problem. Kyra did this to herself. If I ever caught Camile gambling, I’d break her legs. Joe saw what gambling did to families. Too much heartache for too little reward, he mused.

  Joe thought of the deal he’d lay on the table for her—two choices—wondering which one she’d choose. Neither was pleasant. I’m only the messenger. That’s how he justified his work. Blinded by greed, these people put themselves in this position with their gambling addictions.

  *

  She needed to remember the hosts were sharks. Their jobs were simple. They had to get you to put your money into the machines. They didn’t care where it came from, as long as you put it into the machines. Nor did they care if it destroyed your life. They got paid by their successes. Kyra guessed she was one of Joe’s successes because her life was in ruins.

  “Okay.” Taking a deep breath as she stepped into the elevator, Kyra gave him a sideward glance as he pressed the button for thirty-six.

  The elevator stopped and the doors glided open smoothly. Kyra had heard the rumors about this floor. Had always been curious to see it. The other gamblers in the private rooms talked about this floor, but you only got to go up here if you were invited, or if you were what they called a Whale. A Whale: a person who spent big bucks. Not thousands, but hundreds of thousands, even millions—the casinos catered to them. What they asked for, they got: wine, song, and women. The Whales mingled with the casino owners and the big-name entertainers who performed at the casinos. The owners were their hosts.

  Kyra stepped off the elevator, taking in her surroundings with a keen eye. The Monet on the wall, the oriental carpets, fine bone china and lead crystal wine glasses on the tables. Big money, she thought. If she could only get a tiny bit of it, she could survive—straighten out her life.

  “Right this way, Kyra.”

  He helped her into her chair. “Thanks.” She released the breath she had held all the way up in the elevator.

  “You’re welcome. What do you want to drink? Dom Pèrigon?”

  “Really?” she asked, shocked.

  “Yes, really.” He smiled, put his hand on hers.

  Oh, he’s good. I bet with his other hand, he’ll shoot me. “Why the special treatment?”

  “As I said, Kyra, I want to discuss your options on your loan.” He stopped talking as the waitress approached.

  The waitress placed cocktail napkins on the table and then put down the champagne. Kyra never took her eyes off Joe.

  “Can I take your order?”

  Kyra continued to eye him as he ordered for both of them. Sipping her champagne, she remained silent.

  “How do you like your steak?” Joe asked.

  “Medium.”

  “Okay, two filet mignon, the garlic mashed potatoes, and asparagus. Sound good, Kyra?”

  “Yes.”

  “Irene, have the chef put on a chocolate soufflé for dessert.”

  “Okay, Mr. Dillon.”

  Kyra watched the waitress walk away to place their order. I’m in deep shit. Nobody pampered you for nothing. Rubbing her sweaty palms on her napkin, she wished for a towel to wipe the well of water which had suddenly accumulated between her breasts. Kyra turned her attention back to Joe, staring him down, waiting…

  “Kyra, I not only work here at the casino, I work for the people who hold the paper.”

  “The paper?” She understood him completely, but wanted him to be perfectly clear.

  “Yes, the paper. Your loan, along with other people’s loans.”

  “Is it only gambling paper?” Oh yeah, she wanted to be clear.

  “No, it’s all kinds of paper—every now and then they offer an individual a deal to make the paper go away. That lucky person also walks away with some cash in his pockets.”

  Kyra stared at him, her champagne forgotten. Joe didn’t look uncomfortable. In fact, he looked like business as usual. Her mind raced. What kind of deal could they possibly offer her? Would it be legal? Was this the answer to her prayers? Looking at Joe, the dread she felt before she entered the elevator reappeared, this time scr
eaming louder. Run, run for your life. A bit dramatic, she didn’t think so.

  At a loss for words, she nodded for him to continue. “Kyra, do you want to make the seventy-five thousand dollars go away, and get some cash to fight your divorce and custody battles?”

  Whoa, he knows way too much about me. This can’t be good. Before she spoke, Kyra gathered her thoughts. Whatever they wanted from her, it definitely must be illegal. But what could she possibly do for them?

  “Do you want me to continue?”

  “Yes.” Desperation drenched her voice.

  “You know what we speak about today can’t be discussed with anyone else, or there’ll be serious consequences. Do you understand?”

  She never broke eye contact with him—the look in his eyes caused a cold, sharp pain to shoot up her spine. I’ve been stabbed with an icicle. Strange, I never noticed how creepy his eyes are. Once in, there’s no getting out. She understood perfectly. What were her choices? With no money and her parents refusal to bail her out. They had the money, the bastards. What kind of parents didn’t care if she lost her son? What kind of grandparents were they? Her soon-to-be ex had it out for her. I’m alone. What choice do I have? Decision made. With some cash, she and Trevor could start a new life somewhere else.

  “I understand, Joe. What I don’t understand is, what do I have that your bosses want?”

  “Ahh, here’s dinner. Let’s eat first.”

  She didn’t want the Goddamn dinner. Holding her patience became a battle.

  “Joe, I don’t care about dinner. I want to know what we’re talking here.”

  “After dinner, Kyra.” He cut into his steak then put a piece into his mouth.

  She sulked, but ate her dinner quickly, never tasting the food. When the waitress brought out the chocolate soufflé, she stared at it. A favorite of hers, but she’d no appetite for it.

  “Are you ready to talk, Joe?”

  “No, Kyra, we haven’t had dessert,” he said, eyebrows raised.

  She wanted to wipe the smug look right off his face. Showing considerable patience, she reined in her temper. Bit back her comment.