Werewolf in Las Vegas

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “Yeah, give in.”

  “It’s not giving in, Luke. It’s letting go of your role as the father figure and becoming a brother and a friend.”

  The idea beckoned to him like an oasis in the desert. “As I’ve mentioned before, my dad would roll over in his grave at the thought of her dancing with the Moonbeams instead of finishing her education.”

  “Yes, but he’s not here,” she said gently. “Expecting you to run the corporation is one thing. Putting you in charge of your sister’s future is unfair. Of course she’s not going to give you the same respect she gave your dad. If my brother tried to tell me what to do, I’d spit in his eye.”

  That made him grin. “I bet you would.” Spotting a street sign ahead, he slowed the car. “There’s the turnoff.” The road was gravel, which made him doubly glad he’d brought his car instead of Giselle’s rented motorcycle. Patches of snow lay in the shadows created by the tall pines.

  No one else was on the road, so he braked the car and pulled out his cell phone. “I’m sure they’ve left and Owen followed, but let me double-check.” He glanced at his text messages. “They took off about an hour ago. Owen tailed them to . . . the Silver Crescent? Damn it! They’re running us around in circles.”

  “She’s trying to prove a point.”

  Luke glared at the text. “Well, she’s pissing me off.” His phone chimed. “I’ll bet that’s her, gloating.” He read the text. “Game is over. Time to talk. Meet us here at eight o’clock.”

  “Eight o’clock tonight? That’s ten hours from now.”

  “I know. But Cynthia loves the number eight. We used to play Crazy Eights when she was little, and then in junior high she found out that turning an eight on its side was the sign for infinity.”

  “And it’s the difference in your ages.”

  He nodded. “That too. I wonder if they’re in the penthouse yet.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  He looked over at her. “Yeah. She could have a field day. Mr. Thatcher would have waited for my signal before he brought in housekeeping.”

  “Smart man, but if nothing’s been done in the penthouse . . .”

  He met her gaze. “Then the bedroom is as we left it—sheets covered with chocolate, pillows on the floor, bed a tumbled mess. There won’t be much doubt what went on there last night. She’ll figure that out right quick.”

  “So will Bryce.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, so they find out we had sex.”

  He lifted his eyebrows.

  “Well, so it was over-the-top sex, with chocolate mousse cake spread everywhere and our clothes strewn on the floor.”

  Luke speed-dialed Mr. Thatcher. “Maybe they’re not in the penthouse. Maybe they went to Cynthia’s apartment. That’s logical. I don’t have a key to her place, so they could hide out—hello, Mr. Thatcher? Please send a cleaning crew up to the penthouse ASAP. Thanks.” He disconnected. “Call me old-fashioned, but I’d rather not have my little sister creating mental images of what went on in that bedroom.”

  “I agree. I’m not wild about having Bryce check out the aftermath, either. He knows I’m not a vestal virgin, but I’m not in the habit of advertising my sexual adventures.”

  “Me, either.” Luke tucked his phone in his jacket pocket and let up on the brake. “Let’s keep our fingers crossed that Mr. Thatcher beats them up there and clears away the evidence.”

  Chapter 19

  Giselle was damned uncomfortable about having Bryce find out she’d had sex with a human, especially after the strong stand she’d taken on the subject. But maybe she’d been due for a comeuppance. She might have been way too sanctimonious.

  And if the cleaning crew didn’t arrive in time, there could be benefits for Luke and Cynthia’s relationship. Maybe a dose of humility would help Luke realize he had no business trying to control his little sister’s life.

  “This is it.” Luke parked the car beside a small log cabin with a covered front porch. A couple of wooden rockers sat on the porch, and a rock chimney added to the rustic charm of the place. Large pines hovered close, as if sheltering the cabin.

  “Cute.” Giselle wouldn’t say so and risk hurting Luke’s feelings, but she much preferred this setting to the glitz of the Vegas strip. Any werewolf would.

  “Yeah, cute. I wonder how they’ve booby-trapped it. They’ve had hours to plan this one.”

  “We could just not go in.”

  “True.” He glanced at her. “But then we’d never know what they did.”

  “Yeah, okay. I’m curious, too. We’ll approach with caution.” Giselle thought of the many pranks her brother had pulled as a kid. “Watch where you step.”

  “That’s not reassuring. Anything could be hidden under the leaves scattered on the ground.”

  “I’m used to the woods.” She glanced over at him. “Want me to go in first?”

  “No.” He blew out a breath and opened his door. “I’m not letting you get doused when I’m her target. Stay here while I check things out.”

  “Nothing doing.” She climbed out of the car, her boots crunching on dry leaves. Ah. Fresh air. Woods. Her favorite environment. She stretched her arms over her head.

  He rounded the car and stood gazing at her. “Would it have made a difference if I’d said please stay put?”

  “Probably not.” She lowered her arms and breathed in the pine-scented air as she walked toward him. “But you could try that next time and see. Taking a wild guess, here, but did your father give orders?”

  “He was the boss.”

  “Of the world?”

  He blinked. “Of course not! He was the boss of Dalton Industries, and giving orders is part of the job.”

  “What about your family? Was he the boss there, too?”

  “Yes. I can tell you don’t approve of that, but for the most part, it was a good thing.”

  “I’m not passing judgment on him, Luke. He obviously loved you all very much. But a benevolent dictatorship doesn’t work these days, especially when a man gives orders to a woman.”

  He sighed. “You’re right.”

  “But I have to say, meeting you has taught me a lot, too.”

  “By my poor example?”

  She couldn’t help smiling. “Yep. ’fraid so. When I finally talk to Bryce, I’ll be more interested in hearing his side of the story than trying to convince him to do his duty.”

  Luke sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face before looking at her again. “I get it, Giselle. I really do. But for a sister to give her big brother space to be his own person is one thing. For a brother to do the same for his little sister, which includes standing by while she struts around half-naked in front of drooling strangers . . . Can you see why that’s difficult for me to accept?”

  “Yes.” She closed the distance between them and slid her arms around his neck. “I can see that what Cynthia’s asking of you goes against every protective male instinct you have.”

  He gathered her close. “It sure as hell does. Thanks for recognizing that.”

  “You’ll have to override those instincts.”

  “How?”

  “I can’t tell you how, but I can tell you why.”

  “I’m listening. Strong motivation is always good.”

  “Backing off will show that you trust her to manage her own life. After that, you can stop being the authority figure and move on to becoming her friend.”

  He searched her gaze. “You’re a smart lady.”

  “I am?”

  “Uh-huh.” He massaged the small of her back. “Ultimately, that’s what I want with Cynthia, although I couldn’t have put it into words. You just did.”

  “Probably because you’re so close to the situation.”

  “Maybe, but thanks, anyway. My dad used to say a parent isn’t supposed to be a friend, and he was right. But
I’m not a parent.”

  “That’s right.”

  “It’s so damned simple, Giselle. I’m not her parent.”

  Happiness bubbled within her as the sparkle returned to his blue eyes. “Congratulations, Luke. I think that was an honest-to-goodness breakthrough.”

  “Yep, it is.” He beamed at her. “I can feel it. I was thinking like a parent, but it’s like a switch was just flipped in my brain. No more parent. Whew.”

  “Feel better now?”

  “Yeah, and about a hundred pounds lighter, too. I don’t even give a damn what sort of soaking I’m about to get inside that cabin.” He gave her a squeeze and released her. “Let’s go find out what they’ve been up to.”

  “I’m sure they put some effort into it, whatever it is.”

  He took her hand as they walked toward the cabin’s front porch. “I guess I should be flattered by that.”

  “I think so. If she didn’t care about you, she’d leave town and begin her dancing career somewhere else. Instead, she’s campaigning for a job in your casino.”

  “I still say she has an unrealistic vision of how that will turn out, but at least I’ll be there if anything goes wrong.”

  “And she wants that.”

  “Apparently.” He paused. “Do you hear music?”

  She’d heard it long ago, but had decided not to draw more attention to her excellent hearing. “I do. Do you recognize it?”

  “I do.” He sighed. “She’s been in the family vault. I realize it’s her choice, but damn. She took a hell of a chance, leaving it playing with the door open and no one here.”

  Giselle squeezed his hand. “Not such a huge chance. She knows you’re right behind her, and this area seems relatively quiet.”

  “I suppose.”

  “And you’re not the parent.”

  “No. See, I thought I’d fixed myself, and then I reverted back the minute I thought she’d taken a chance with a video.”

  “You’re getting there, Luke. Don’t get discouraged. Habits can be really hard to break.” Her heart ached for him. He was so determined to do the right thing, and yet sometimes so confused about what that was. Her issues with Bryce were a walk in the park compared to Luke’s struggle to gracefully make the transition after his dad’s death.

  He’d automatically assumed that he should be the head of the family as well as CEO of the corporation. But there was no head of the family now. His role was cherished brother and friend to his sister.

  No wonder he’d been so autocratic with Cynthia in the beginning. “Don’t forget that your sister knows exactly which buttons to push to test you and throw you into a panic.”

  “Yeah, she does.” His gaze lingered on her, the light in his eyes warm. “I’m glad you’re here, Giselle. God knows what kind of mess I would have made if you hadn’t been.”

  “I won’t insult your intelligence by contradicting that statement.”

  He laughed. “I’m even glad your brother is here. I’m sure he’s the one who convinced Cynthia to turn this into a game instead of a vendetta.”

  “I think he was.”

  “Come on, then.” Still holding her hand, he started up the steps to the cabin’s front porch. “Let’s find out what our brilliant siblings cooked up for us.” Luke hesitated in front of the cabin’s rustic wooden door. “We’re dry so far, but once we go in, all bets are off. Normally I hold the door for a lady, but in this case . . .”

  She slipped her hand from his. “Go for it. Be my hero.”

  “Do I get a reward for bravery?” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Excellent. I’m going in.” Grasping the knob, he pushed open the door. Nothing happened. “Maybe I have to be inside.” He stepped into the room. Still nothing.

  “I’m right behind you.” Giselle followed him through the door. “It’s warm in here. They left the heat on.”

  “And the video going.” Luke walked over to the TV. “This one’s from her senior year in high school. She was in a lot of numbers that year.”

  Giselle moved farther into the room. All the curtains were closed, which made seeing the video easier. Cynthia danced with a group this time. Giselle counted ten girls in identical sparkly outfits of royal blue. The implication that Cynthia wanted to be part of a dancing group again was unmistakable.

  For the first time, Giselle saw Cynthia dancing and not simply caught in a still photograph. Bryce had probably seen this video, too, and thank goodness he wasn’t romantically attracted to Cynthia. The video showed that the beautiful child of fourteen had become a stunning woman of eighteen. And wow, could she dance.

  Giselle drew closer. “She’s good, Luke. I’m no expert at these things, but she looks perfectly at home on the stage.”

  “She always has been.” He stood, hands in the pockets of his jeans, his attention riveted on the screen. “You’ve been right all along. If she doesn’t give dancing a shot, she’ll regret it. And she’ll resent me for opposing her.”

  “I think so.” Giselle slipped an arm around his waist. “As you said, at least she’ll be at the Silver Crescent, where you can keep an eye on things.”

  Luke wrapped his arm around Giselle’s shoulders. “No water trick yet. Do you suppose they’ve rigged it to the DVD, so whoever takes it out gets drenched?”

  “Let’s open the curtains so we can see what might be lurking in the shadows. After all, I’m a Landry, too. I might be able to figure out what Bryce has set up. That would give me some satisfaction, actually.”

  “Me, too.” He squeezed her shoulder and released her. “But let me open the curtains. That would be a perfect booby trap.”

  “Good thinking.” She stayed where she was while Luke pulled cords that opened the curtains at each window. Again, nothing happened.

  But she could see her surroundings much better. Logs were arranged in the stone fireplace as if waiting for the touch of a match. Positioned in front of it were a couch and two chairs upholstered in a green plaid that fit the rustic decor.

  The coffee table and two end tables were made from diagonal slices of a large tree trunk placed on a wrought-iron base. Bark rimmed the edges, but the surfaces were polished and lacquered.

  “Nice place,” Giselle said. “Cozy.”

  “It would be if I didn’t expect a jet of water to come shooting out at me at any minute.” He walked over to the TV and crouched down, examining it from all angles. “I can’t see a single thing out of place, but you’d better stand back while I take the DVD out.”

  “Sure thing.” She edged away from the TV. If this was Bryce’s grand finale, it could be a doozy.

  Luke gingerly extracted the DVD from the player and turned the machine off, along with the television. Letting out a breath, he stepped back. “That was anticlimactic.”

  “I’ll bet they decided not to do a water trick and figured we’d go crazy waiting for it.”

  Luke nodded. “Makes sense. And that strategy’s working. I’m like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”

  “Speaking of rocking chairs, we could go sit on the porch. That setup looks innocent enough.”

  Tucking the disk in the case lying next to the DVD player, he turned to her, a gleam in his eyes. “I’m not in the mood for innocent.”

  “Oh?” She’d seen that gleam before. She liked it. It produced a delicious response in her willing body.

  “Here’s how I see our situation. They want to meet us at eight tonight, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “And do you think we should go along with their timetable?”

  “I do. If they’re finally willing to talk, I don’t want to scare them off by trying to set up something sooner.”

  He tossed the DVD on the couch and came toward her. “I happen to agree with that, which leaves us with several
hours to fill.”

  “So it does.” She had no trouble reading his mind, and her heart thudded in anticipation.

  “Coincidentally, we’re all alone in a cute little cabin in the woods. But first I need you to tell me the absolute truth. If you’re still sore, then—”

  “I’m fine.”

  His gaze searched hers.

  “Really, Luke. I’m recovered. Magic Epsom salts.”

  A smile tugged at his mouth. “I’d be a fool to argue the point.” Heat radiated from him as he stood inches away. Without touching her, he managed to surround her with that heat. “Do you suppose there’s a bed around here somewhere?”

  She breathed in his virile scent, and a shiver of delight ran through her. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  “Then let’s go find it.” Lacing his strong fingers through hers, he led her toward a doorway on the far side of the living room. “Bingo.” He drew her inside.

  She gave the room a quick glance although, under the circumstances, she wasn’t about to be picky. But it was a lovely setting. The curtains were open. Tall pines outside the window filtered the sunlight, creating a dappled effect on the navy quilt covering the king-sized bed set into a dark walnut frame.

  Looking up at him, she allowed the desire she felt to shine in her eyes. “It will do nicely.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Luke gathered her into his arms and backed toward the bed. “Come roll around on the mattress with me, pretty lady. I have the urge to muss you up.”

  Laughing, she put up a token protest. “Let’s take off our clothes first. Then we won’t go back looking so—”

  “Like we’ve been having sex? I’ve stopped caring whether they know or not.”

  “But—”

  “Relax. Have fun. Let me wrestle you out of your clothes. And you can wrestle me out of mine.”

  “Oh, what the hell.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Why not?”

  “That’s the spirit. Hang on. Here we go!” Falling back onto the mattress, he hauled her down with him.

  The mattress rolled under them with a sloshing sound. Then what had appeared to be dappled shadows on the comforter began to spread.