“You know what?” she asked. “It’s too hot. I’m ready to go back to the room for a cool shower and then think about dinner. What about you?”
“Yeah, sounds good,” Sam said. He was getting frustrated with their lack of progress, too, she could tell. She knew it took energy to put out feelers like he did, and to have that energy go unanswered was depressing. They needed a break, in more ways than one.
She pulled to the edge of the driveway and looked both ways down the street. Her quick scan was arrested by the sight of a black SUV across the street in a convenience store parking lot. As with anything that made a strong emotional impression, black SUVs suddenly leaped out from the unremarkable clutter of the city around her. She couldn’t quite tell the make or model of this one; it was parked between two other behemoths. She checked traffic in the street again and pulled out onto the road.
She kept one eye on the rearview mirror as she drove. A half a block down, she saw the SUV pull out into traffic behind them and head the same way. Was that the gold emblem of a Cadillac on the grille? She couldn’t be sure. She drove mindfully, watching traffic all around, but checked back on the SUV every minute or so.
“Tell me where to turn,” she reminded Sam, since he had the map. She knew the general direction, but not the specifics.
“Turn left at the next light,” he said.
She put on her blinker and moved into the left lane. A minute later, the black SUV did the same.
The left turn lane was backed up at the light. While they waited their turn, she tried to get a better fix on the SUV. It was three cars behind them, and certainly big enough for an Escalade.
“You’ve got green,” Sam said. She pulled her attention from the cars behind and started forward.
“Get in the right lane,” he said. “We’ll turn right at the second light.”
Lacey made the left turn carefully, staying in her lane around the curve, then put her blinker on. As soon as traffic allowed, she moved into the right lane.
Two cars back, the SUV did the same.
“Sam,” she said. “I think we’re being followed.”
He sat up and shot a glance behind them. “Black SUV?” he asked.
“Yup. It was parked across the street from the last storage place, and it’s been behind us ever since. Can you make out faces at all?”
He stared at the car, but it was still two vehicles back. “No. The inside is too dark with the privacy tint.”
“Okay, I’m going to turn. Let’s see what he does.”
She slowed and made her right turn. The hotel, she saw, was a couple blocks ahead on the left. She steered into the left lane.
“Did it turn?” she asked.
“Yes. Staying in the right lane, though.”
Lacey didn’t like this. Not at all. She began to look for another street to turn down, one that led away from the hotel. A small cross street was coming up; she put on her blinker and got into the left turn lane.
“Lacey, where are you going?” Sam asked.
“Just wait,” she said. She sat in the left turn lane, grateful there was no one behind her. Traffic coming up the road toward them was heavy enough to keep her from making her turn, so just sitting there wasn’t suspicious.
She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the black shape cruise by. It stayed in the right hand lane and went on past them.
“It kept going,” Sam said.
“Thank God for small favors,” Lacey huffed. “I didn’t like that at all.”
Sam was silent. She wondered if it didn’t worry him like it did her. Maybe she was just jumpy. Hoping that was the case, she pulled out into the through lane again and drove to the hotel. She parked the car and they walked across the baking pavement toward the entry.
“Jeez,” she said once they reached shade. “This is brutal.” Sweat ran down her face and slicked her arms. A shower was going to feel good.
In the elevator, she looked sideways at Sam. Although his copper skin had a sheen to it, he didn’t look anywhere near as wilted as she felt.
“Just another day in the desert, huh?” she asked.
Sam looked down at her, his eyes roving over her flushed face plastered with tendrils of wet hair. He reached out and brushed one strand from her forehead.
“It’s okay, Irish,” he said. “I’d probably freeze in your homeland.”
“My homeland is LA,” she muttered.
As soon as they entered their suite, she tossed down her purse and cranked up the AC. “I’m going to take a long, cool shower,” she said. “You’re not in any hurry for dinner, are you?”
“Nope. Take your time.” He ambled toward his own room, pulling off his t-shirt as he went.
She had just a second to appreciate his leanly muscled back before he disappeared behind the door.
The shower was pure heaven. Lacey got the water just shy of cold and stood under the stream, letting her dehydrated body absorb as much moisture as it could handle. When she felt like she was no longer neon pink, she washed her hair and put gobs of conditioner on it. She wondered how Las Vegans kept their skin from turning into leather, their hair into straw.
She’d be deliriously happy when this case was done and they could get back to LA. For more reasons than one.
Dressed in fresh shorts and t-shirt, she went to the kitchen and grabbed a cold bottle of sports drink out of the fridge. She was sure her body would appreciate the electrolytes.
A minute later, Sam’s door opened and he joined her, looking equally cool and refreshed. His only concession to the heat was a light blue t-shirt rather than the dark colors he usually wore.
“Hey,” she said, noticing the red welt on his cheek. “I think that opened up again.” She grabbed a tissue from her purse and went to him, dabbing at the bright red blood that seeped from the wound.
“Good thing it wasn’t deeper,” she said, “or you’d need stitches.” She held the tissue gently against his cheek. Seeing the blood, thinking back to the stunning turn of events, brought home to her again how incredibly lucky they’d been.
She looked up at Sam and discovered his eyes glittering at her. Dark, thoughtful, unreadable. For a few seconds she felt herself in thrall to those eyes, and the unbidden thought of them being closed forever stabbed her heart.
“Has it occurred to you that we might be in over our heads here?” she asked quietly. “This was close—too close. I’d hate to lose… I’d hate to take the chance on either of us being hurt.”
Sam covered her hand with his, then adroitly slipped the tissue away from her even as he led her to a chair and pushed her gently down. He sat across from her and dabbed at his cheek, but no fresh blood dappled the tissue.
“We’ve had this conversation before,” he said. “Out on the reservation, tracking the shapeshifter. How can we possibly feel good about ourselves if we back away from the bad guys and leave them free to do their dirty work? Too many people do that as it is.”
She nodded mutely, feeling the unhappy truth of his words. “I know, but if that bullet had passed just an inch or two to the right…”
“It didn’t. And this is nothing.” He indicated the scratch.
Lacey pulled in a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. “Adrian was right, though. They’re on this now. They’ll keep investigating as long as it takes.”
“Along with a zillion other open cases they’ve got,” Sam said. “I don’t think they’re going to drop everything else to work on this. And they don’t have what we have. They don’t have my senses, and they don’t have your instincts. We can crack this, Lace. I know we can.”
He took both her hands in his and squeezed gently, his skin warm on her bare legs. Part of her wanted to stand her ground and opt for safety, but the larger part of her wanted to curl up inside those hands and trust—believe—that they could accomplish anything together.
She gave in. “You know I’m a sucker for truth, justice and the American way,” she said, trying to interject some humor into her words. And
velvet black eyes, she amended silently.
“That’s my girl,” Sam said, a grateful smile lifting the corners of his mouth. He released her hands and patted her knees. “So what about dinner? What sounds good?”
“I noticed one of those buffet places just down the street. Wanna go investigate that?” She got up and returned her half-empty sports drink to the fridge, then turned for his answer.
He stood just a few feet away, watching her closely. Abruptly he put out his hand to her. When she took it, he said, “Come here,” and tugged her to him. He circled her slim body with his arms. She willingly slid her arms around his waist, and tipped her head up so she could meet his eyes.
He bent his head down so his forehead touched hers. For a moment they just stood together, touching, breathing. Then Sam angled his head and gently brushed her lips with his—gently, but with absolute certainty.
Lacey melted. The practical part of her brain was grateful for his arms around her, because without them, she felt sure she would collapse into a puddle on the floor. The warm press of his body against hers, his lips, full and inviting, drew her in. She leaned into him, her blood zinging with excitement. Her entire body sang.
He ended the kiss with a sigh, and she laid her head against his chest. She could hear his heart beneath her ear, strong and steady. That was him. That was Sam—strong and steady.
“Sam?” she whispered.
“Mmm?”
“I love you.”
His arms tightened around her and he pressed his lips to her temple. “I love you, too, Lacey.”
She closed her eyes and sighed. Heaven. Pure heaven. She felt like she could stand here forever in this bubble of contentment. No other people. No outside concerns. Just her and Sam, holding each other, loving each other.
And his stomach growling.
Lacey giggled. She pulled back and looked up at him. “Time for dinner?” she asked saucily.
“Yeah, I guess.” He exhaled heavily. “We can continue this… later.”
“Yes, we can,” she agreed. “We’ve got all the time in the world now.”
He held her face, one large hand on either side, and kissed her again. It was at once a start, a finish, and a promise.
~~~
The buffet was pretty crowded; no doubt the lingering heat drove people in off the Strip. Lacey and Sam snagged a booth in the back, then went through the line, filling their plates with succulent samples of various dishes. They returned to their table, ordered drinks from a passing waitress, and dug in.
“Good potato salad,” she said around a mouthful.
“Good fried chicken, too,” he returned. “This beats tuna salad, that’s for sure.”
Lacey nodded. They would need to eat in more, though, so as not to waste the food they’d bought. Right now, the thought of staying in with home-cooked meals had a definite appeal.
Home. That hotel room was far from home, and yet there with Sam, it was enough. She marveled at the twists and turns this day had brought.
“So tomorrow,” she said, “we’ll hit more storage places?”
“That’s all I can think to do,” he said. “It’s a crap shoot, but it’s all we have.”
Lacey snorted at the notion of a crap shoot. That was Vegas, for sure. With one hand, she dug the map out of her purse to see where their next stops might be.
“What’s that?” Sam asked. She looked up and saw his eyes on her open purse. Part of a leather harness stuck up from inside.
“My gun,” she said with a shrug. “I just thought, in light of what happened today, maybe I’d better keep it close.”
Sam chewed thoughtfully, his eyes on the shoulder harness. She knew the idea of carrying a gun was foreign to him. In his work, he’d never needed one, yet this was one time it felt totally appropriate to Lacey.
“Good idea,” he said. He bent to his plate again. “Too bad you can’t wear it, but you can’t exactly throw on a parka over it in this weather, can you?”
“Ugh, no,” she said. Out on the reservation, she’d done that, but that was December on the high desert. In June in Las Vegas, carrying a concealed weapon was a little more difficult. Toting it in her purse would have to do.
She opened the map only partially, revealing the north end of Vegas without taking up the whole table.
“So we did these three,” she said, marking large Xs through the locations. “Any ideas about what direction we should go next? East? West? South?”
Sam eyed the map, upside down to him, the exed-out locations closest to him. “I don’t know why, but I keep thinking east,” he said. “I’ve got nothing to base it on. Just a hunch.”
“Hey, hunches work for me,” she said. She popped a cherry tomato into her mouth and leaned over the map. They’d already marked one storage place just southeast of the hotel. Back in the room, they could check for others in the general vicinity. A sudden thought came to her. “Maybe tonight you can ask Kyle for an address. That would come in handy.”
“It sure would,” he agreed.
Their plan for the next day set—as set as the ethereal investigation could be—they concentrated on the rest of the meal and relaxed in the anonymous safety of the crowded restaurant. Occasionally Lacey’s eyes drifted to Sam, and every time she caught him staring at her, she felt her heart turn over.
They were quiet on the short drive back to the hotel. Lacey parked the car and hoisted her purse to her shoulder, the gun making it heavier than usual. Sam reached out and took her hand, and they walked contentedly up to their room.
When they reached the door, Lacey had her key card ready to slide into the lock.
And froze.
She grabbed Sam’s arm and pointed soundlessly.
The door was not closed. It stood an inch away from the frame, and splinters of raw wood bristled from the jamb where the lock should have been.
Lacey pulled out her gun and pointed it at the door. Moving carefully, she leaned in until the barrel of the gun just barely touched the door. She tossed a cautious glance at Sam, then pushed marginally on the door, inching it open wider with no sound.
The door swung away. Inside, the lights were on.
And the room was total devastation.
Everything that had been on the kitchen counter was now on the floor—coffee maker, dishes, napkins. The table had been upended and the chairs were tossed around haphazardly. The fridge door hung open, and all the contents littered the floor.
Beyond that, the living room was snowy. The couch and chairs had been slashed repeatedly, the stuffing pulled out and scattered about the room. The TV had been beaten, its screen cracked and dented. The coffee table had been broken into two pieces.
Lacey stared at the carnage, dumbfounded. The destruction was shocking, not only for its senselessness but also for its violence. This was nothing short of a message. A warning.
She inched toward the door to her room. Inside, she could see similar damage—the bed covers slashed, pillows cut and bleeding stuffing, her things thrown on the floor. Through the open door to Sam’s room, the same scene.
“Call 911,” she told Sam. Feeling sure now that the perpetrator was gone, she edged into her room until she had a clear view of the bathroom. Empty, except for towels on the floor and her personal items dashed to the ground. The mirror broken.
She checked Sam’s bathroom, as well, as he spoke on the phone. Same situation there. Finally she lowered her gun and joined him in the living room.
“Thank you,” he was saying. “We’ll be here. No, we won’t touch anything. All right.”
He hung up the phone. “On their way,” he said.
Lacey nodded, pulling on her shoulder harness and then stowing the gun. Perp or no perp, she’d feel safer with her weapon close by.
Looking around at the mess, she tried to think what to do next.
“I’m calling Adrian,” she said. “Would you mind calling down to the front desk to let them know? I hope their insurance is paid up.”
Lacey patted her gun. “Oh, yeah. But thanks.”
He walked mindfully around the debris on the floor and edged out the door without touching it. Out in the hall, he tossed a glance back at Lacey. She nodded and he moved down the hall.
Lacey dialed Adrian. Two rings and he picked up.
“DelMonico.”
“Adrian, this is Lacey. I’m afraid we’ve got another situation.”
“You okay?” The bored tone he’d answered with was replaced by one of heightened attention.
“Yeah, we’re fine. But our hotel room isn’t.” She described their homecoming, plus the SUV sighting earlier. “Someone’s keeping tabs on us,” she finished. “I don’t know if they missed the fact that we had gone out to dinner, or if they purposely waited for us to leave, but I’m guessing it’s the former.” With the daylight assault this morning, these guys weren’t shy. Lacey shuddered to think what might have happened if she and Sam had been here when the wrecking crew burst in.
“I’ll be right there,” he said.
“Thanks.” The line was already dead.
She started to put her phone away, but changed her mind. Instead she began taking pictures. She went out into the hallway and started there, photographing the evidence as it was revealed to them. Kitchen, living room, bedroom, bath. Then she moved carefully to Sam’s room, noting his clothing had not only been dumped out of the closet and drawers, but had been slashed with a knife as well.
She heard voices in the hall. For safety’s sake, she hid behind the half-open door to Sam’s room and peeked out through the small opening between the hinges.
“Lacey?” It was Sam. He, too, was being cautious, and looked in from the hall. “Officers are here. And the manager, too.”
“I’m here.” She came around the door, cell phone in hand, and both hands plainly visible.
“She has a gun but it’s holstered,” she heard Sam tell the officers. “She’s got a carry permit for it.”
The officers came in, one pushing the door further open with his nightstick. They both eyed her warily.
“I’ve been taking pictures,” she told them, “but I haven’t touched anything.”
Dream Walk Page 10