Dangerous Flirt (16 page)

Back? What was Hank up to? She checked her watch. She had two hours before the next conference panel about trust beneficiaries. Plenty of time. “It's a long story, I'll tell you at lunch.”

“Good, and I'll tell you about how Sam couldn't tear his eyes away from the tattooed waitress long enough to figure out what cards he was holding. For such a boring stiff big brother, you sure
do like 'em a little on the wild side. Who would've ever thought?”

True to form, Sam harrumphed and headed toward the buffet.

Chris didn't bother to keep his voice down. “It was an electric-blue dragon tattoo so big it barely fit on her upper arm. Hot. Very, very hot.”

As they walked, a pair of yellow shoes in a shop window caught Beth's attention. Slowing her pace and looking closer, he gaze
wandered over to the stranger’s reflection in the window. He wasn’t standing close to her but his cold and assessing image sent a shiver down her spine and she stopped dead in her tracks. He made a gun with his fingers and pointed directly at her.

Blood pounding in her ears, she spun around and searched for him in the crowd, but he'd disappeared as if he'd never been there.

A
s the man on TV said, time to make it work. That was exactly what Sarah Jane had in mind.

Phil couldn’t stop blubbering on as they rode the elevator to her room. She patted his hand absentmindedly while her mind whirled into action. Plan. She needed a plan. That bitch had convinced Phil to talk. He hadn’t spilled everything, but enough that Sarah Jane had to accelerate things.

They got off on the twentieth floor, Phil still apologizing. Once inside her room, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Shut up and let me think.”

He dropped into a desk chair and silenced his constant chatter.

The subtle approach hadn’t worked last night. She wouldn’t go that route again. The hired thugs, Stoliz and Daniels, could still be useful, however.

“Do you know where she’s staying?”

“She’s
at the Bellagio.”

“With the sheriff?”

“I don’t think so.”

Sarah Jane thought back to the way Hank had watched Beth this morning. Would he let her stay by herself after last night? Doubtful.

“Where is the sheriff staying?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then stop sitting there looking all sad and pathetic and find out.”

His eyes widened.

Darn it, she didn’t mean to be so harsh with him. “I’m sorry. I
shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. It’s just we’re so close to making everything perfect. It’s only Beth standing in the way of us being a family together.”

He sat up straighter in his seat and his face lost its confusion. “Give me five minutes.” He grabbed his phone.

While Phil talked on the phone, she got her suitcase out of the closet and laid it on the bed. She tossed in the contents
of the dresser drawers and closet. Next, she gathered her toiletries from the bathroom. It took less than five minutes to pack up her room.

“The Palms. Got it.” Phil clicked off the phone. “What are you doing?”

“Getting ready to lead everyone on a wild goose chase while you work with Stoliz and Daniels to take care of Beth and the sheriff.”

“What do you mean ‘take care of’?”

She zipped shut
her suitcase. “I mean kill them.”

He jumped up from his chair. “Mother—”

She stopped him with a flip of her hand. She hadn’t come this close to getting her revenge to be stopped by that bitch. She’d waited too long and risked too much. She had to make Phil understand.

“Your father favors her at work, do you like that?”

“You know I don’t, but—”

“As Ed Webster’s son, shouldn’t it be you that
he lavishes attention on?”

“Yes, but he doesn’t believe I’m his son.”

“He will. That’s what I’m trying to explain to you. That’s why we have to do this.” She patted down his collar. “It’s them or your family. Which do you care about more?”

For the fiftieth time during the ten-minute cab ride, Hank stared at the closeup of the thugs from
the Little Elvis Wedding Chapel. The smaller one had a narrow scar from where his chin must've been busted open. What he'd give to be able to give the asshole a few matching injuries.

He'd already e-mailed a copy of the photos to the Dry Creek Sheriff's Office. Chances were slim the men would pop up on a local search, but with luck, some of the national databases would reveal their identity.

The cab pulled into the taxi line at the Paris Hotel. Wallet at the ready, he pulled out a few bills and handed them over to the driver. “Keep the change.”

The dry Las Vegas heat hit him as soon as he stepped out of the cab. Damn, he couldn't wait to get back to Dry Creek and the crisp fall weather. He'd had it with sweating his balls off in October. As soon as he walked into the casino, he scanned
the crowd for Beth's brown hair even though he knew she’d still be in her panel.

But she wasn’t.

He increased his speed as he made his way through the lines of slot machines surrounding the bar. She sat at the bar with her back to him, chatting with a guy in a dark suit. Damn it, he’d warned her to stay at her panel where there’d be lots of people she knew.

“Beth!”

She didn’t turn.

The man
whispered in her ear, giving Hank a perfect view of his profile. He turned, revealing a scar on his chin. The fucker was right here.

At the same moment, the man swept aside Beth’s hair, revealing a stranger.

Where was Beth?

First relieved Beth hadn’t been taken, Hank paused his march. But not for long. Fury at the perp who’d chased them last night blazed to the forefront. He popped his knuckles
and stormed forward.

His target stood, oblivious to the world of hurt about to befall him.

Hank rushed up the three steps to the raised bar and shoved the goon away from the brunette.

Startled, the woman squeaked. Barstools scraped back as people scattered.

Surprise flashed in the man’s pale blue eyes, quickly blotted out by recognition. The white scar on his chin stood out like a crooked
bull’s-eye.

The thundering feet of running security guards approached from behind.

In the half a second it took for him to pull back his fist, the man grabbed the brunette and flung her into Hank.

Thrown backward, he crashed back into the brass railing surrounding the bar. They both tumbled to the ground, the woman screaming at the top of her lungs.

One of the rotund security guards stopped
next to them. The other two hoofed it after the perp sprinting out of the casino.

“What the fuck is your damage?” The security guard loomed over Hank, still flat on his back.

Hank assessed his options. From what the security guard observed, he’d just gotten his ass handed to him by a guy that he’d shoved. He didn’t have any proof that Chin Scar was a danger.

The brunette stood and wavered on
her feet. “Shooo shorry I fell into you.”

“Ma’am, you didn’t fall, he shoved you into me.”

“Really? Wow.” She plunked down onto her barstool and sucked on the skinny black straw sticking out of her old fashioned glass.

“Are you okay?”

She smiled up at him, her glassy eyes unable to focus. “Awesome.”

It took him twenty minutes to convince the security team that he wasn’t the bad guy. They’d
made a copy of the photo of the two thugs he suspected of drugging Beth and escorted the brunette, who swore she’d only had two drinks, back to her room.

A quick phone call at the security office and he connected with Chris.

““Hey there big bro, how's it shaking?”

“Chris, tell me you're with Beth and she's okay.” His lungs ached from holding his breath. Nothing in the world mattered as much
as the answer.

“Well, she's stuck listening to a mini-lecture about the history of maps from Sam, so she's in danger of falling asleep, but other than that, everything's hunky-dory.”

The news should have eased the flow of adrenaline through his veins, but it had the opposite effect. What if she hadn't been with his brothers? What if the asshole with the scar had found her and managed to drag
her out of the hotel? He'd sure done a shitty job of keeping her safe.

“Where are you?”

“No need to get all growly. We're just leaving the buffet.”

“Meet me at the front doors.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hank hung up without bothering to say goodbye. Anger rippled through him, mainly at himself for thinking Beth would be safe surrounded by a bunch of hungover lawyers at a convention. So concerned with
making a score, he'd failed to protect the football. Rookie mistake. Well, it wouldn't happen again. He'd be damned before Beth left his line of sight.

Each minute seemed like hours as he waited, jumpy and nervous. He'd almost convinced himself that something had gone wrong, and then he saw her. Sandwiched between his haggard-looking brothers, her caramel skin glowing with a special light.

Hank felt it the moment their gazes met, all the way deep into the marrow of his bones, like the answer to a question he didn't know he'd asked.

His
.

She sealed herself to his side. “We have to talk.”

“Yes.”

“Right now.” They paused by the roulette table while Chris and Sam moved forward to watch craps.

“Spill.”

“It’s Sarah Jane.”

That threw him for a loop. By the time she’d outlined what
she’d learned from Glenda, her own experiences and from her chat with Phil, he was convinced.

“So what do we do now?”

“There is no ‘we’. From now on, it’s me. You’re staying locked up in my hotel room with Chris and Sam until this is all over.”

“Bullshit.” She shoved a finger into his chest. “You wouldn’t even know it was Sarah Jane if it wasn’t for me.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re not in charge
of this. I am. You can’t control every aspect of everything. Why don’t you just stop trying to?”

“Don’t try to pull that crap with me, Hank Layton. It’s my life. Not yours.”

He couldn’t shake the feeling that they weren’t only arguing about Sarah Jane. Taking in Beth’s flushed cheeks, the way her small tits heaved against that black dress and the desperation in her eyes, he surrendered. “Fine.
Let’s find out what room she’s in.”

Signaling to Chris and Sam to wait, he and Beth approached the hotel registration desk.

“How may I help you, sir?” The clerk stood at attention.

“We need Sarah Jane Hunihan’s room number.”

“I’m so sorry, sir, but we can’t give out that information.”

Hank flashed his badge. “Room number, please.”

“Do you have a warrant?”

“No.”

“Then no room number. However,
I can call her if you’d like to see if she’d talk with you.” The clerk hummed as her fingers flew across the keyboard. “Oh, it looks like Mrs. Hunihan is no longer staying with us. She checked out hours ago.”

T
rapped in the elevator at The Palms, speeding up to the fourteenth floor, Beth fought the urge to strangle Hank.

He'd gone all dark and surly the moment they found out Sarah Jane had checked out. A few phone calls later and his mood had gone from surly to irate. Sarah Jane had bought a last minute ticket to Mexico. The plane had been in the air an hour by the time they’d
found out.

Tight, wound-up energy filled the elevator. It burrowed under her skin and plucked at her already high-strung nerves.

“Why are we going to your hotel room?”

Hank's heated gaze sent fire straight to her core. He only grunted in response.

Ass
.

Mr. Grumpy needed to find someone else to take his bad mood out on because she'd find another room. It was a good plan but it left an aching
need in the pit of her stomach and lower.

The elevator doors opened. Hank stepped out onto the floor and scanned the area, then held out his hand for her. Shooting him a dirty look, she ignored his hand and strutted down the hall to his room.

Hank opened the door and ushered her inside. “Wait here.” Walking ahead, he looked into the bathroom and scoped out the rest of the room before making
his way back to her. He closed the door and flipped the security lock.

Noting the empty bathroom and freshly made king-size bed, tension mounted inside her. “I don't know why you’re so pissed off, but you'd better spit it out.”

Instead of answering her, he crowded into her space, forcing her to back up until she was flat against the door. Her breath caught. Electricity sparked in the air around
them, muddling her ability to form coherent thought.

“When I saw the guy from the chapel in the casino, I thought I was too late.” Something dark swirled in the hazel depths of his eyes.

“Too late for what?”

“To save you. I thought I’d let you down.” He lowered his lips to hers, possessive and hard.

Stunned, she couldn't move as his tongue teased her lips, sending heat flaring through her
body. One thing she knew for sure in this twisted-up world was that Hank would never let her down. Ever. Need and want surged from her core. Forgetting the world and the dangers outside the door, she dropped her briefcase. The thunk it made when it hit the carpeted floor sounded a million miles away.