Leaving Las Vegas (Entangled Ignite) (15 page)

“I got engaged to him. Hank Monroe. He’s a lawyer the next city over and the head of the volunteer fire department. Of course, it didn’t work out.”

Glory. Engaged. Luke could almost see it in his mind’s eye. Raven hair flying, sapphire eyes sparkling, but in his imagination the ring on her hand was the same ring that his father had given his mother on their third date. For an extravagant man it was a teeny-tiny rock, a quarter-carat diamond too small to be fake, but it had been in the family for generations. His mother had long since replaced the heirloom on her hand with a sizable emerald the dark color of pines in winter, but that didn’t mean she’d gotten rid of it. His mother never got rid of anything shiny.

The diamond was in a jewelry box somewhere, waiting for Luke to need it. Someday.

“Why didn’t it work out?” he asked, driving his mind to focus on her, not him.

“Things just fell apart.” She let out a soft laugh, “We were best friends, you know? Grew up together, riding our bikes and playing in the dirt. But I don’t think I was ever really
in love
with him. Not the kind of love you need to spend the rest of your life with a man. We called things off a month before the wedding. They don’t take back that kind of dress.”

A breath that he hadn’t known he’d been holding escaped through pursed lips. “I hope the experience didn’t completely spoil your opinion of men.”

“Oh, I like men.” The rough edge to her words made Luke’s skin tingle. The air was beginning to cool down, the temperature brisk. “If I could find a man in Beaux who I haven’t known since we were both in diapers, then I might even give dating another chance. Otherwise, it’s going to be me and my battery-powered boyfriend for the long haul.”

Someone that she hadn’t known her entire life. Luke certainly fell into that category. “What about me?”

“You mean, date you?” A soft laugh. “You’re leaving, remember?”

“Of course.”

“You have to get home to finish Cleopatra’s Asp,” Glory said. “When’s the opening?”

“In a few weeks, as soon as my guys can finish building the parking garage.” He groaned at the memory. “It’s been a hell of a lot of work. Construction delays, code violations, and custom-woven upholstery. It’s a good thing I picked the building up for a song. I bought it at a government auction—the old owners went bankrupt—and if Chester hadn’t bid against me then it would have been close to free.”

Glory pulled away, staring at him as though he’d just grown an extra head. “You bought the building at a government auction? A
foreclosure
? Taking advantage of other people’s troubles?” The way she spoke, the words might as well have been oaths and black curses, sharp barbs meant to inflict the most pain. She snorted. “Just like that jackass who wants to build around the lake.”

“I’m nothing like that guy…” The statement lost its strength coming out of his mouth.

He might not be the developer who was about to accidentally wreck Glory’s hometown, but he’d been involved in more than a few shady business deals in his day. When it came to million-dollar property deals, no one escaped without a little blood on their hands. But that was all business. Doing right by the company he’d inherited from his father. Protecting the livelihood of thousands of employees. Surely Glory knew that.

He wanted to ask her, but the way she was pursing lips brought all his focus from their conversation to her mouth. God, he wanted to kiss her.

They were close enough to hear the music from the bar now, the deep bass speeding along like his pulse. The dirt path bent a bit, and he could see a light in the distance. Red neon, announcing that The Crossroads Tavern was open for business. In another minute they’d be at the door, asking for help. This was his last chance to say something. To let her know how he felt. They might not have another opportunity to talk to each other alone.

There were no words for what he was feeling, no way to explain the way that she made his heart pound against his chest and his sharp, analytic mind vanish in a haze of lust and desire. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop before they reached the entrance to the bar.

Actions spoke stronger than words.

He pressed her back against the bar’s brick wall, holding on to her the way that he’d never held on to another woman before. “Glory,” he moaned, then bent his head and kissed her.

For a moment, she melted into him. Taking his kiss. Giving back to him. Luxuriating in their touch.

And then she pulled away.

Chapter Seventeen

Glory figured pushing Luke away would have been easier if she didn’t enjoy kissing him so damn much. But buying property at government auction? Building over a neighborhood’s history? Those were the actions of a monster motivated only by money, not a man who knew the value of a hard day’s work. A man with mud on his boots.

Only, after days spent listening to Luke talk, Glory realized he wasn’t a bad person. Not really. Just misguided.

It didn’t make kissing him the right thing to do.

The man had gotten under her skin. She liked his company. Liked him. Maybe even more than liked him. They might have known each other just a few days, but it felt as if they’d been in the car for years. They were friends, weren’t they?

More than friends. She wanted him like nobody’s business. His entire life might be in Las Vegas, but that didn’t have to stop them from seeing each other.

It didn’t mean they couldn’t keep sleeping together.

Flying out to Las Vegas would be hard—she had a business to run—but she could visit him on the odd weekend. And he could come out to Beaux. They could kiss under the moonlight and sleep in her warm double bed. Maybe it was time for her to look for a real house—someplace more than the trailer she’d bought on a whim after one too many fights with her sister—someplace out by the lake where they’d be able to hear the water lapping at the shore. In Las Vegas, they could watch the neon lights and make love on Egyptian cotton sheets. Over and over again. Until they fell asleep in each other’s arms or she died of exhaustion. Whichever came first.

A part-time lover would have been more appealing when she thought he was just a bright-eyed city slicker. Now that she knew who Luke was at his core… Could she be satisfied with that kind of arrangement? Or would it all just blow up in her face?

Hell
.

She pushed herself up onto her tiptoes, reaching for Luke. That was no reason to stop kissing. Not now. Not ever.

Her mouth was only an inch from his when the door to the bar opened, spilling light and loud music into the darkness. Glory jerked backward. It took her a moment to recognize the oversized man in the white T-shirt who’d come out of the bar to stand behind Luke.

Conan the Barbarian looked her straight on. And he wasn’t alone. Half a dozen men in scarred motorcycle leathers materialized from behind him.

Great, just great. They had an audience. Facing Conan, she was reminded of why Hallie thought the man was attractive. Underneath his scruffy biker exterior, the man had the strong features of a cartoon prince. Broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and a stubborn jawline. Even though he was looking particularly ragged at the moment, with a bruise under his left eye and a cut on his cheek.

She probably wasn’t the picture of normalcy either, with a borrowed shirt, rumpled shorts, and bags under her eyes.

Luke was different. The Las Vegas businessman still managed to look comfortable and confident even with two days of growth on his cheeks. The master of everything he surveyed.

He straightened, turned, and stuck out his hand in Conan’s direction in a show of good faith. “Hi, I’m Luke Morrison. Our car broke down a mile up the road. Could we use your phone?”

Looking at the two men, standing side by side, was like being thrown through a vortex into another dimension. They didn’t belong on the same planet, let alone in the same parking lot.

“It’s been a while, Gloria,” Conan said, crossing his arms over his barrel chest.

“Glory,” she corrected him quickly.

“You here to give me another talking-to? Tell me to stay away from your sister?”

“I just might, if I thought it would do any good.” When it came to Conan and Hallie, the Beaux rumor mill was always running at full tilt. They both denied anything had happened—would ever happen—but that hadn’t stopped Glory from coming all the way up from Beaux to confront the bar owner, ordering him to steer clear of her baby sister. She might be the good sister, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t do anything in her power to protect her family.

Conan glanced in Luke’s direction, not even trying to slow the grin that was expanding across his face. “You know by traveling with one of the Allen sisters you’re taking your life in your hands?”

Luke shrugged, lean muscles rolling underneath his shirt. “I didn’t have much of a choice when we started.”

Oh, for heaven’s sake. Luke Morrison was acting all chummy with Conan the freaking Barbarian. In another minute, the two men would be doing each other’s nails.

“Can we move this party inside?” she asked, trying to keep her tone less than hostile. “We need a phone, a beer, and a ride.” Luke’s men might be all set up in Wichita to snag Tiffanette, but she’d still feel better if they were back in Beaux as soon as possible. Once they were inside the town limits, she’d finally feel safe again.

Conan let out a low whistle, signaling to his men. “Someone go get their car, bring it back, get it started.” A nod to Luke. “What kind of car is it?”

“Aston Martin Vanquish.”

“Really?” Conan’s eyebrows headed skyward. He amended his orders. “Call Bobby Evens. Tell him we’ve got something fun for him to play with.” Then he walked over to open the bar’s heavy wooden door, jerking his head at Glory. “Come on in.”

She did. Picking her way through the room, she saw a handful of people that she knew. Even more that she didn’t. The bar was large and out of the way—it could bring in an exotic clientele. The room was packed. “You got something special going on tonight?” she asked, just to be polite.

“This is nothing. We had the entire volunteer fire department in here earlier. Until they got called out to your place.”

“My place?” Glory’s heart fluttered in her chest.

“Your trailer.” A short pause. The same damn pause people always used before delivering bad news. “Word on the street says the top came off your trailer an hour ago. Just popped right off.”

The fluttering grew worse. “Benji, is he—”

“No serious injuries. The fire department put out the flames and threw a tarp over the whole thing. Benji’s fine, but you’ll need to find somewhere else to live for a while.”

“I need to talk to my sister.” Glory noticed the sign over a door reading
Office
. She pushed her way through the crowd until she could open the door, then blinked when she saw the clean, undecorated space. A metal desk, an old-fashioned Rolodex that would spin if she pushed it, and two filing cabinets that covered the back wall. And a phone.

She raced across the room, grabbed the phone, and dialed. The number to her grandmother’s house hadn’t changed in thirty years. It was the same phone number that Glory had memorized in preschool, the same number that she’d dialed with shaking hands after each of her parents died.

“Ashley Allen,” her sister answered, her voice bright and bubbly. “How may I help you?”

“Ashley.” Glory took a deep breath as she perched on the edge of the desk. “I didn’t—” She stopped short, interrupted by the sound of a man’s deep voice traveling through the line. “Do you have someone there?”

“Just Hank, and he’s leaving.”

“Right.” Glory frowned. “What’s he doing at your place?”

“He was informing me of the fire at your trailer.” Ashley sighed. “Took long enough to let me know. For goodness’ sake, talking to him is like pulling teeth.”

That was one thing in Luke’s favor, Glory admitted to herself while turning to look out the office window into the body of the bar. Luke had a great mouth and he knew how to use it, whether it was talking a woman’s ear off or kissing her until she forgot all about armed gunmen and crazed developers.

A deep breath. She needed to focus. It didn’t matter if she could see the way Luke’s pants outlined his ass from thirty feet away. Then he turned and started walking toward her, the bag full of money hanging off one arm. A thrill ran down her spine, seeing those big green eyes. She bit her bottom lip, trying to concentrate.

“Glory, we’ve been waiting to hear from you,” Ashley said. “You went to Las Vegas with a lot of money—other people’s money—and then you disappeared. One phone call, and then that’s it.” There was a slight pause. “People are beginning to worry. They’re beginning to talk.”

Glory felt as if she’d been punched in the gut. Hard. “I ran into some trouble on the drive home.”

“Anything I should know about?”

“A crazed showgirl. Armed thugs. Gunshot wounds. Car accidents—”

There was a sharp sniff. “What have I told you about fibbing? Did you go back to Vegas? Find another game? Did you get the money?”

The money. Way more than half a million dollars. She glanced up, blinking in surprise when she saw Luke lounging in the door to the office. The bag was at his feet, bulging awkwardly with cash. The money wasn’t hers. It never had been.

And then there was Luke. So close she could touch him. Worth a cool two million to the right people. But he wasn’t hers, either. “I already told you to come up with a new plan.”

“I couldn’t think of anything. Have any suggestions?”

“Throw an ice cream social. Seduce the developer. Mainline cheesecake until you feel better. It’s not the end of the world.”

The other end of the line was completely silent.

“Ashley…” Glory held her breath, uncertain of what was going to happen next. “It was always a long shot.”

“It was a plan.” Ashley’s voice was small. “We had a plan.”

“We had a fantasy.” Each word was a knife, cutting into her sister’s flesh, but Glory couldn’t stop herself. “A fairy tale. Running off to Las Vegas, entering an underground poker game. We should have just burned the buy-in, or given it to the high school for baseball equipment. You need to face reality. You need to start talking to the city council, trying to change the rules about how the lake is governed.”

“The process is too slow. It’s all too slow.” A slight hiccup. “Are you sure you can’t get the money?”

Glory took a deep breath, her mind scrambling. It was a silly question. No one she knew had that kind of money. No one Ashley hadn’t asked already.

No one except Luke. The man was rich. More than rich. Wealthy.

All she had to do was look him straight in the face and say, “Buy Dandelion House.” Her stomach churned at the thought. What if he said no? Worse, what if he said yes? Asking Luke for help was a risk she couldn’t take. It wouldn’t just mean gambling her heart. It would mean trusting him with her town’s entire future. She couldn’t do that.

“You’ll stay with me, of course,” Ashley insisted, back in her I’m-the-Mayor role, bringing Glory’s thoughts back to the present and away from a dream.

She didn’t want to see her sister. Not yet, anyway. Besides, Benji had gotten her into this mess. He’d be getting her out of it—even if that meant selling his beat-up Ford truck to pay for a room in the Hideaway, Beaux’s best bed-and-breakfast. “I’ve got to go.” She slammed the receiver down, straightened her shoulders.

“How’s your sister?” Luke asked, his voice warm and reassuring.

“You heard. She believed in me, and I let her down.” Glory sniffed, blinking back tears. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to make a call.” He didn’t wait for her response. Instead, he stepped into the room and shut the door. He walked around the desk to sit squarely in the office chair. The action brought him so close to where she sat, her legs brushed against his.

Before she could speak, he picked up the phone and dialed. “This is Luke Morrison. I need an update. How are things in Wichita?”

Glory’s moment of self-pity vanished as she snapped to attention. Wichita. Where Tiffanette was.

“You’re sure?” Luke’s body stiffened. His jaw clenched. His free hand curled into a fist. He looked at Glory. “They caught all the goons, but Tiffanette got away.”

Tension forced its way through her body. The blonde was still out there, somewhere in the darkness.

Coming for them.

Only, now Tiffanette would be coming to West Virginia. A plastic-fantastic snake in the garden of Eden.

The blonde knew Glory’s name. Her phone number. She’d be able to track Glory to Beaux. Her mind spun. Beaux was a good place full of decent, hardworking people. That didn’t mean it was crime-free. Pot dealing, vandalism, the occasional arson. If things got too bad, the sheriff could be called in from his office at the jail in Miller’s Crossing.

Otherwise, things were worked out the same way they’d been for generations.

In a small town, words could be downright dangerous.

Only, Tiffanette wouldn’t care what people were saying about her. If Tiffanette made it to Beaux, they’d need to find another way to stop her.

“We need to go.” Panic made her voice almost unrecognizable. “Luke—”

Luke ended his phone call abruptly, placing the phone solidly down into its base. He didn’t move. Instead, his hand moved to rest solidly on her hip. His fingers dug into her side, pinning her in place. “You need to take a deep breath. Stop worrying, I have everything under control.”

“Under control? If Tiffanette’s still out there—” Her voice shook. “I can’t risk her hurting anyone. Not my family. My town. I have to warn them. We might not have a police force, but the volunteer fire department can set up some kind of guard—”

“Not necessary,” Luke said. “I already called in reinforcements. They started arriving a few hours ago. They’re stationed at your trailer—what’s left of it anyway—your diner, on the main street in town, and at your sister Ashley’s place. The town’s safe. No one will hurt your friends.”

It wasn’t just another statement. It was a promise.

Glory’s teeth ground together. He’d claimed she was his friend. But friends didn’t keep secrets. At least, not big secrets. Like the fact that they’d hired a private army to protect one small town. She should be screaming. Throwing things.

And yet the gesture had been sweet. Caring.

In an oppressive, overly controlling, rich-dude kind of way.

The door to the office rattled open.

“Burgers are here,” Conan said. He pushed his way into the office, setting a tray down next to Glory on the desk. Burgers, beers, and an order of fries. There was even a bottle of malt vinegar. The tangy flavor the perfect complement to fresh-cut french fries.