Leaving Las Vegas (Entangled Ignite) (20 page)

A man who wasn’t as bumbling as he’d seemed back in Vegas. A man who wanted what money couldn’t buy. Power. Prestige.

“We’re trading you for Luke,” Tiffanette said.

Glory shook her head. “You’re too late. Luke was going back to Las Vegas. He’s probably left by now.”

If he’d survived the motorcycle accident. Her heart clenched. He had to have survived. Even if it meant he’d flown off to some neon-clad city full of shortsighted gamblers and flirtatious women.

Some small part of herself said a man who was really leaving would have asked for his watch back before getting on the motorcycle. She pushed the thought down. Luke was gone. He had to be, disappearing the same way he’d arrived in her life.

Unexpectedly.

Everything about the man was unexpected. The way he laughed and smiled, the way he listened to what she had to say, and the way he’d held on to her the night before as though she was the answer to his prayers. In the past few days he’d seen all of her flaws, her impulsiveness, her quick temper, and her tendency to say whatever was on her mind without thinking about the consequences.

Luke wasn’t just the kind of guy that she
could
fall in love with. He was the man that she had already fallen head over heels for.

“Nope,” Chester said. “He’s still in Beaux. And we’ll get that little coward. Put an end to this.”

“Don’t call him names.” Glory crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Besides, you’re the one who peed his pants back at the poker game.”

Chester took a step forward, his grip tightening on the gun. “Shut up! You’re the one who messed this up. I’ve been planning this for months! Years! I don’t know why Luke’s so interested in you, anyway. Cooing like a schoolboy. He wouldn’t even take Tiff out to dinner—”

“Maybe she’s not his type.”

“Believe me, she’s every man’s type.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Tiffanette’s mouth curled into an evil grin. “She’s something special. Twisted like a corkscrew.”

“You’re the one who carries chains around in her backseat.” Adrenaline carried Glory forward a step. Her hand wrapped into a fist around the silver cross. If the man made a wrong move—a single flinch—she’d punch his lights out. Or get shot trying.

Out the window the birds were singing and wind was rustling the trees. It was a fine Saturday afternoon, and if she weren’t otherwise occupied, she’d be putting together her offering for Sunday potluck. The new preacher wasn’t quite as interested in fire and brimstone as her father had been, but he did know how to appreciate a blackberry pie.

“How did you know where to find us?” she asked, stalling.

“Cherry,” Chester answered. “My wife was most helpful in letting us know where you were headed. Albuquerque. Tulsa. For a while we tracked Luke’s phone, but then we lost the signal somewhere in Arizona.”

“And now? Luke and I were both thrown when the motorcycle went down. You could have grabbed him there. Why take me?”

“By the time I found a way to get down the embankment, he was gone,” Tiffanette snapped. “Some guy in an ugly truck picked him up. You’re our stake in this gamble. We don’t want you. We want Luke.”

“He won’t come.” She’d told him they were over. She’d
ordered
him back to Las Vegas. He wouldn’t come, she hoped.

A knock on the door made her jerk. A firm hand on the thick wood. The noise wasn’t created by a random stranger selling encyclopedias or brushes door-to-door. The person behind the knock had a purpose.

Tiffanette grinned. “Gee, wonder who that is?” She tipped her head at Glory. “Go open the door. You try anything funny and Chester will shoot you in the head.”

Not the most appealing offer in the world. All the things Glory had done, all the havoc and chaos of her life, she’d never been shot—not with a real bullet. She wasn’t about to start now, not when her body was already screaming from the fall she’d experienced earlier. But she didn’t want Luke shot, either.

“If you touch one hair on Luke’s head,” Glory said, “I will hunt you down and I will destroy you. I swear.”

Vengeance had never been her style, but she would bring fire, lightning, and glorious wrath down on the showgirl’s head if that was what it came to. She held her head high, walking past the two gun-toting villains. Things had been so perfect only a few hours earlier. How had everything gone so wrong?

“You’ll never get out of this town.” Pain made her voice crack. Each breath came faster than the one before. “Not with Luke. I’ll make sure of that.”

The police, the volunteer fire department, hell, she’d even call in Cara May if it came to that. The older woman was a one-woman phone tree, summoning people to help find missing kids or track down lost hikers. Even if Luke went off with Tiffanette and Chester, the entire town would help her in the rescue. They’d cut off all the roads and take him back before the black SUV could get past the town limits. They’d have to. A lifetime of favors meant they owed her.

All those years spent moderating petty squabbles, babysitting screaming children, and covering up after a thousand mistakes, she’d never once asked for anything in return except a little kindness and consideration, but things had just gotten serious. If anything happened to Luke, then she’d call in all of her chips and damn the consequences. She didn’t need kindness or consideration. She didn’t even need the respect that she’d fought for her entire life.

She needed Luke safe in her arms.

As long as Chester didn’t shoot him on the spot. But that didn’t seem likely. The man was a slimeball. He might be able to put out a hit over the phone, but it would take him some time to work up the nerve to murder someone in person.

Hopefully.

She reached the door. Turned the deadbolt back, the solid
thunk
making her skin crawl. She backed up a few steps and grabbed for the handle.

She was too late.

The door shoved open, pushed from the outside with a force that made it bang dramatically against the wall. The house had been built to last, thick wooden posts and poured plaster instead of drywall. That didn’t stop the vintage chandelier from shaking overhead, a hundred pieces of leaded crystal knocking into one another at once.

Damn, that man was strong.

Standing on the other side of the door, covered in road rash, his hands balled into fists, Luke looked like an ancient god of war come down from the heavens to do battle. Adrenaline made veins stand out against his skin.

“Tiffanette.” His lips were pulled back, baring his teeth. “You’re looking as gorgeous as always.”

“Uh-huh, what are you doing here by yourself?” Tiffanette glanced past him. “I figured they’d have to bring you here at gunpoint.”

“There’s all kinds of pressure. You know that.” His eyes flicked past her. “Chester…if you wanted my attention, you could have just invited me around to dinner.”

“Always so smug,” Chester said. “Just like your father. Because you own a few hotels, everyone thinks you’re so special. I was going to get mine.” He jerked a thumb in his own direction. “I was going to have Cleopatra’s Asp until you took that, too! Getting your name in the paper!”

“You’ve got plenty of money, Chester.” Luke was completely, deathly still. “You could have built your own casino, but that never would have worked. You’re a bad businessman, and you know it. Instead, you blamed all your problems on me.”

Luke turned his head slightly, emerald eyes sweeping the room before coming to rest on Glory. “You’ve looked better.”

The words knocked the air out of her like a sledgehammer to the chest. Maybe she couldn’t compete with the demented showgirl, but she’d just survived a motorcycle accident. Her legs hurt and her head was spinning. How was she supposed to look? “Go to hell.”

“Manners, Gloria.” He leaned back against the doorway, as though he had all the time in the world. “I’m the one here saving your life.”

Gloria. Her temper flared. There was that name again. Thrown her way like a slap in the face. “My name is Glory.”

“I know.” Every bit of his focus was on her, as if they were the only two people in the room, completely ignoring the crazed gunslinger. “Gloria, Halleluiah, and Ashley.” A low whistle. “You were right about your sister. Man, Ashley is gorgeous! All that dandelion hair!”

A rush of blood made Glory’s ears pound. She couldn’t think straight. Here she’d been so scared something bad had happened to Luke—
would
happen—and he’d gone all gaga over her beautiful sister. So much for true love. “You—” A deep breath, forcing air into her lungs. “You’ve met Ashley?”

“Uh-huh, over at your cousin Benji’s house.”

Wait a minute.

“Benji’s house?” Benji didn’t have a house. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been staying at her trailer. He bounced around, living with family when he was between girlfriends. The last time he’d stuck around somewhere for more than six months had been when his mother was alive.

Glory’s mind scrambled, trying to catch up. Luke was trying to tell her something. What had he said before that? Something about Ashley’s yellow hair? Only he hadn’t used the word yellow. He’d called it dandelion.

Dandelion hair.
Dandelion House
.

She raised her head, looking over Luke’s shoulder. All the way to Dandelion House. The old Victorian sat hunkered down on a narrow piece of the lake less than two hundred feet away, its windows dark and its driveway empty.

Why was Luke telling her about Dandelion House?

“We don’t have time for this,” Chester interrupted hotly. “I want to get out of this hellhole. I need to be back in Las Vegas with an airtight alibi when they discover the body.”

Oh God. Chester was definitely going to murder Luke. No. A few minutes earlier she could have sworn that things were as bad as they could get. She’d survived so much already—a motorcycle accident, manacles—it was time for a little good luck to come her way. Instead, all she got was pounding in her chest. The world started spinning. She focused on Dandelion House, trying to keep the world from going black around her. A panic attack. She was going to have a panic attack. She was going to—

The explosion rocked the air. One moment Dandelion House was there, a physical entity, and the next minute debris was flying through the air. This was no controlled explosion. A million pieces of wood and glass rocketing across the lake like so many tiny missiles. Then another explosion hit. And another. Obliterating Dandelion House.

A hand wrapped around Glory’s wrist, strong, powerful, pulling her forward with a savage tug.

“Run.” Luke bolted for the door, pulling Glory along with him every step of the way.

The fourth explosion was closer, the shock wave that came with it forcing Glory to her knees. So much metal. A rearview mirror flew through a nearby window. The crash of breaking glass made her flinch. The mirror was black, large. A piece from one of the monster SUVs. Her ears were ringing. Her knees might never recover. Taking a deep breath, she could taste blood in her mouth.

The sky was on fire. Smoke filled the air, red, yellow, and green. Not blue.

Never blue.

Blue fireworks were a thing of beauty. Benji could make cornflower fireworks that hung in the sky for minutes after the initial eruption, but blue fireworks were expensive. The chemical component that gave the fireworks their brilliant color was copper. After the third person in Beaux complained about having their pipes stripped, Ashley had gone to speak to Benji. Dressed up in the little pink suit that she wore when she was on official mayoral business, she’d bought him breakfast at the diner. No one knew exactly what she’d said, but Benji hadn’t made blue fireworks since.

Why was she thinking of blue fireworks? Why was the world moving so slowly?

And why was the volunteer fire department coming over the hill? All of them? Even Mr. Dillard, the grocer. Normally it took a good ten minutes after a siren went off for the crew to gather. But here they were, suited up, sirens blaring.

They must have been parked behind one of the other lake houses.

Waiting for some private signal.

They weren’t the only ones.

Cars were coming in from every direction, trucks with pickup beds full of men, women, and children. The entire town, headed their way.

Time regained its normal pace and sounds started filtering back to her. People were calling out. Shouting her name.

A piece of paper fluttered downward, sticking to her arm. Confetti. Glory blinked, looking closer. A twenty-dollar bill. One among thousands falling from the sky, too many to count. Tiffanette must have been keeping the stolen money in the SUV for a quick getaway. And the SUV had blown up.

Glory pulled the sticky bill off her arm, but another was already caught in her hair. The lake was changing colors as scraps of money hit it.

Next to her, Luke’s entire body kept shaking from head to toe. For a moment panic gripped her. Hell! He’d been hit. Then a chuckle slipped out, and she realized that was full-belly laughter.

“I never thought that would work,” he said. “Never in a million years.”

Then Glory was laughing too, laughing until her body shook and tears streamed down her cheeks. “Ashley’s ideas are crazy, but they hardly ever fail.”

“Blowing up Dandelion House wasn’t Ashley’s idea.” Luke gripped her tight, hugging her close. Covered in so much ash and soot, making his emerald eyes look even brighter. He was the most beautiful man that she’d ever seen. “It was mine.”

She gaped up at him. Straitlaced, buttoned-up, prim-and-proper businessman Luke Morrison had just blown up a house to save her?

“I love you.” The words fell out of her mouth before she could stop herself. What was she thinking? Telling Luke she loved him. It would only make things harder when he left—

“Thank goodness.” His lips pressed against hers in a kiss almost as explosive as the fireworks still going off overhead. “I love you, Gloria Allen. I love your eyes, your smile, your laughter.” Each word came with a fresh kiss. “I love your family. I love the whole damn town. It feels like home.”

He loved her.

Luke Morrison, big-city developer, Las Vegas magnate, owner of casinos and lots and lots of money, was in love with her.