been fifteen minutes or so, but Tommy figured that was more than enough time. Dominic probably came twice. Besides, Tommy wasn’t comfortable being apart from the money for much longer. But in order to trick the hooker, he’d had to leave the suitcase in the room. But he wasn’t worried. It was only fifteen minutes. And the hooker, well, Tommy figured Dominic could keep her busy for at least fifteen minutes.
He listened, but didn’t hear anything. He opened the door and stepped inside. The silence continued. The door shut behind him.
“Dominic?”
Silence.
Tommy reached around behind his jacket and pulled out a .38. He jacked a round into the chamber.
“Dominic? Where are you?”
Tommy’s eyes took in the room. The sheets were rumpled. A pillow lay in the middle of one bed. There was some loose change on the dresser. Tommy moved silently to the edge of the door. He listened closely, standing just out of sight, then whirled around, gun pointed at chest height.
The room was empty.
He went back into the bathroom. A shaving kit sat on the bathroom counter. Water dripped slowly from the faucet. A damp towel was on the floor. Someone had showered after Tommy left the room. Had it been Dominic or the whore?
“Shit!” Tommy hurried back out to the main part of the room. He looked around. Had Dominic paid the hooker and then taken off himself? But where? Did he leave with the hooker and go out the back way? Down the steps? And if, so, why?
Tommy stood in the room. Frozen. And then his heart leapt to his throat, his stomach clenched.
He raced to the closet, threw open the door.
Gone.
The suitcase was gone.
Tommy felt a chill run through his belly. Could Dominic have taken the suitcase? No. It wasn’t even a remote possibility. The dumb bastard had no idea what his brother was doing. Didn’t even know what was in it or why it was important. The hooker? No way. He’d chosen one at random. There was no way his boss could’ve gotten wind of where he was. If he had, Tommy would be dead. Vincenzo Romano would never hire someone to steal the suitcase from a rat. He’d have the rat squashed and then the suitcase taken.
Tommy let out a slow breath, tried to gather himself. His lungs were still exhaling when the phone rang.
Tommy snatched the receiver quickly. “Dominic?”
“Hello,” the voice said. “This is the front desk.”
Tommy cursed under his breath. “Yeah?”
“I just wanted to check and make sure the disturbance next door was taken care of to your satisfaction, Mr. Abrocci.”
The wheels in Tommy’s mind turned quickly. He seemed to see the picture developing before him.
“Yes, yes, that was Room Number...” he said.
“912,” the man at the front desk said. “We called there after you complained and the party agreed to quiet down. I hope your stay was not diminished in any way.”
“No,” said Tommy. “It was fine.” He hung up the phone as the front desk was still in the process of saying good-bye.
Tommy opened the door to his room and peeked out in the hallway. It was empty. He held the gun down by his side and quietly stepped in front of room 912. Nothing.
He knocked gently on the door, scanned the hallway. Still nothing. He tried the door, but it was locked. Adrenaline coursed through Tommy’s veins. Something had happened to his brother. The extremely important contents of his suitcase were gone. The likes of which if put into the wrong hands, would guarantee his death. And the answer was somewhere on the other side of a hotel door.
Tommy slipped the gun into his coat pocket. He placed both hands on the door handle and reefed. He heard a splintering from within. He relaxed, checked the hallway. Still empty. He placed his weight in his shoulders and slammed down on the door handle. Another crack. He turned the handle until he was sure the catch was free. He put his shoulder to the door and slammed against it. The door gave but remained in place. Down the hall, he heard a
He listened, but didn’t hear anything. He opened the door and stepped inside. The silence continued. The door shut behind him.
“Dominic?”
Silence.
Tommy reached around behind his jacket and pulled out a .38. He jacked a round into the chamber.
“Dominic? Where are you?”
Tommy’s eyes took in the room. The sheets were rumpled. A pillow lay in the middle of one bed. There was some loose change on the dresser. Tommy moved silently to the edge of the door. He listened closely, standing just out of sight, then whirled around, gun pointed at chest height.
The room was empty.
He went back into the bathroom. A shaving kit sat on the bathroom counter. Water dripped slowly from the faucet. A damp towel was on the floor. Someone had showered after Tommy left the room. Had it been Dominic or the whore?
“Shit!” Tommy hurried back out to the main part of the room. He looked around. Had Dominic paid the hooker and then taken off himself? But where? Did he leave with the hooker and go out the back way? Down the steps? And if, so, why?
Tommy stood in the room. Frozen. And then his heart leapt to his throat, his stomach clenched.
He raced to the closet, threw open the door.
Gone.
The suitcase was gone.
Tommy felt a chill run through his belly. Could Dominic have taken the suitcase? No. It wasn’t even a remote possibility. The dumb bastard had no idea what his brother was doing. Didn’t even know what was in it or why it was important. The hooker? No way. He’d chosen one at random. There was no way his boss could’ve gotten wind of where he was. If he had, Tommy would be dead. Vincenzo Romano would never hire someone to steal the suitcase from a rat. He’d have the rat squashed and then the suitcase taken.
Tommy let out a slow breath, tried to gather himself. His lungs were still exhaling when the phone rang.
Tommy snatched the receiver quickly. “Dominic?”
“Hello,” the voice said. “This is the front desk.”
Tommy cursed under his breath. “Yeah?”
“I just wanted to check and make sure the disturbance next door was taken care of to your satisfaction, Mr. Abrocci.”
The wheels in Tommy’s mind turned quickly. He seemed to see the picture developing before him.
“Yes, yes, that was Room Number...” he said.
“912,” the man at the front desk said. “We called there after you complained and the party agreed to quiet down. I hope your stay was not diminished in any way.”
“No,” said Tommy. “It was fine.” He hung up the phone as the front desk was still in the process of saying good-bye.
Tommy opened the door to his room and peeked out in the hallway. It was empty. He held the gun down by his side and quietly stepped in front of room 912. Nothing.
He knocked gently on the door, scanned the hallway. Still nothing. He tried the door, but it was locked. Adrenaline coursed through Tommy’s veins. Something had happened to his brother. The extremely important contents of his suitcase were gone. The likes of which if put into the wrong hands, would guarantee his death. And the answer was somewhere on the other side of a hotel door.
Tommy slipped the gun into his coat pocket. He placed both hands on the door handle and reefed. He heard a splintering from within. He relaxed, checked the hallway. Still empty. He placed his weight in his shoulders and slammed down on the door handle. Another crack. He turned the handle until he was sure the catch was free. He put his shoulder to the door and slammed against it. The door gave but remained in place. Down the hall, he heard a
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