Free Running Scared by Elizabeth Lowell Page A

way.”
    She stacked the cartons on top of each other and lifted them. She had to make two tries before she could stand. The boxes of gold weren’t as big as her greed, but they were plenty heavy.
    Throwing back her head, she laughed and staggered toward the door. Finally, finally she had done it.
    The big score.
    Now all she had to do was figure out how to turn hot gold into cold cash without getting burned along the way.

Chapter 10
    Las Vegas
    November 1
    Very early morning
    W ith well-concealed impatience—her feet were screaming—Gail Silverado said her good-byes to Mickey Pinsky and John Firenze, French Henkle, and Rich Morrison. When Rich hung back from the other three, she gave him a dazzling smile.
    “Forget something?” she asked.
    “Just to call my wife, and I forgot my cell phone.” He smiled slightly. “Would you mind if I used yours? I don’t know which party to meet her at.”
    “Not at all. Good night, gentlemen. I’d suggest you take separate elevators.”
    She shut the door to her outer office on the other three men and turned to Rich. Saying nothing, she walked to her private office and closed the door after him.
    “Did you really forget your cell phone?” she asked.
    “What do you think?”
    “I think I have some champagne on ice if you have something worth celebrating.”
    He laughed and regretted again that his present wife with her very important political connections had made it clear that if he screwed around, she would cut off his cock and feed it to him. He knew that his cock was safe enough from her threat, but his chance to be head of the Nevada Gaming Control Board wasn’t. He wanted power more than he wanted a piece of ass—even a very talented piece like Gail.
    “I heard from my business associates earlier today,” he said.
    Gail kept walking toward the champagne in her office fridge. “Good news?”
    “Golden Boy finally got around to putting in a new firewall.”
    She stopped and looked over her shoulder. Her pose was as elegant as it was unconscious. “Not good.”
    Rich scratched under his obnoxious wig. How women wore the damn things was beyond him. “Not bad, either. They had finished the setup and were just feeding in money from a Shanghai account every day into his hold for the slots and the baccarat tables.”
    “How much did they plant before they were shut down?”
    “Ten million. Maybe fifteen.” Rich shrugged. “Chump change, compared to what they’re waiting to run through our casinos, but it will be enough to hang Tannahill. He probably won’t do jail time, but the Gaming Control Board won’t ever let him into Nevada again.”
    Gail bent, opened the fridge beneath the bar, and pulled out a bottle of Cristal. “You sure they left enough tracks to trace the money back to Red Phoenix accounts?”
    “Hell yes. These boys were trained by the best hackers the U.S. had to offer. Tannahill has been paying state and federal taxes on that triad money for weeks and keeping the rest for himself as pure, sparkling-clean profit.”
    With an expert twist, Gail pulled the cork and inhaled the fragrant mist that rose from the bottle. “Then we have him.” She poured two glasses of the fine champagne and handed one to Rich. “The only question is when we drop the hammer.”
    “I’ve put out a few anonymous feelers to the federal task force on the Red Phoenix triad. It shouldn’t be too long. Eventually even the feds catch on.”
    The glasses met with a musical sound.

Chapter 11
    Las Vegas
    November 1
    Early morning
    M ost of the big hotel/casinos had a focus in their lobby to lure and entertain walk-ins. The least imaginative of the resorts had gigantic floral arrangements. Others had an aquarium twenty feet high and sixty feet wide, or a chlorine-scented river sparkling with coins the guests had tossed in, or glass flowers growing out of a ceiling as long as a football field.
    The Golden Fleece had . . . a golden fleece. A spectacular one. No matter what