"What happens here, stays here" is the motto that made Las Vegas famous. My brother Aldo didn't invent it, but he could have. He never stops whispering it in my ear after each of my "sorties." I'm La Tigre, an assassin, who works exclusively for him.

Aldo is capo of the Las Vegas Outfit. He replaced our father who was shotgunned in broad daylight in the lobby of the biggest casino/hotel on the Strip. Aldo had been a hit-man for years, but after Papa's killing, I became his protege and tracked down the killers.

In 2005 Papa was still very much alive, raking in millions from the fabulous Alps hotel/casino in Vegas and six or seven others (on a smaller scale) in Reno and Lake Tahoe. He had a knack for antagonizing competitors and making enemies by the score.
That spring I was a 15-year-old freshman on the Spring Valley High School track team and had a good chance of competing on the 4X100 varsity relay team. I was that fast.

But not fast enough to elude the two men awaiting me when I emerged from the field house after a long practice. Johnny "Turtle" Tortellino, my personal bodyguard K-8, always waited for me by the south-east exit few others used. That day he lay in pooled blood which I slipped on.

I was tasered unconscious. When I awoke, I lay naked and spread-eagled on a bed, my hands and feet tied to the posts.
A well-built man stood naked before me, his engorged penis in his hands.

Leering, he said four words I'll always remember: "You'll love this, Bitch."

Then he raped me. I screamed until I lost consciousness. When I awoke, I was on my stomach and still tied.

"Awake? Good!"

Then he sodomized me. I've never screamed so hard or hurt so much . . . for so long. Blackness swallowed me again.

Aldo found me in an alley barely alive. He's always refused to share details other than to tell me Papa paid someone a fortune to get me back. I spent months recovering in a private hospital in the Sierras, mostly with shrinks who never cured me of haptephobia, fear of being touched.

Papa put a $1 million bounty on my rapist, but no one ever came forth with credible information to claim it.

Then two months ago the "other" kidnapper, knifed in a prison brawl, confessed all to a priest as he was given last rites. Another prisoner overheard and got the name of my rapist to my brother.

Today Aldo summoned me to a small windowless room we alone use in the bowels of the new Vacanza Hotel. Its walls, floors and ceiling are perpetually covered with thick disposable plastic. I entered and saw a naked man strapped to a coroner's gurney and gagged.

Aldo spoke to me in a low, unfamiliar voice thick with emotion.

"He him, Corinne?"

A dozen years and a million nightmares since it happened. Had I ever seen his face? I shut my eyes, remembering what I had seen, clutched between two hands.

"Corinne!"

The word lashed the air. My eyes snapped open.

"Let him speak," I said.

Aldo grasped the man's throat with one hand and yanked out the gag with the other.

I leaned over the man and purred, "You'll love this, Bitch,"

He shuddered. Had he recognized me?

"You say it!" I demanded.

Aldo squeezed the man's throat, then abruptly released his fingers.

The man's eyes, nearly popped from their sockets, stared at me as his tongue worked around each word.

"You'll . . . love . . . this . . ."

"Bitch! Say it!"

"B--bitch."

Angrily I walked around the gurney and whispered into Aldo's ear, "He's too scared to speak normally. Leave us."

Aldo left the room.

I stood where the man could clearly see me and stared deeply into his eyes.

Windows to the soul? Maybe.

"You recognize me, yes?"

He nodded, then moaned. "La Tigre."

I frowned. "Yes, that bitch, too. But mostly the godfather's daughter who you kidnapped, raped . . . and left for dead."

His eyes revealed all I needed to know.
*. *. *

Three hours later Aldo and I met in an empty alcove outside the main casino.

"You were late for your shift at the tables, Corinne."

"Yes."

His dark eyes bore into mine. "He the--?"

"Yes."

He came closer and whispered, "What happens here, stays here, Corinne."

I smiled. "Our business is concluded, Aldo, but he won't be leaving."