“Sophie, you are beautiful.” He kissed the hinge of her tight jaw.
She turned her head, but not before he caught a tremble in her mouth. He gripped her hand tighter, giving her the time he sensed she needed. Right there he’d gained another inch. Getting closer to the real Sophie.
Petrov’s face surfaced in his brain. Yeah, this was about the assignment, but it was also about a desire to know her that had nothing to do with the case.
Her warmth pressed against the length of him, making him totally aware of every inch of her long, firm thigh against his.
She turned to him, her face serious. “So while we’re in Vegas you won’t interfere with my case?”
His hand tightened in hers. “No, I won’t interfere with your case. Take one of my jumpers again and I’ll make you pay. Do your party trick on anyone other than me, you’ll pay a lot.”
She grinned, making her eyes all sparkly.
Damn.
“Oh, I’m never giving up my party trick. I could have put a collar on Lopez, and he’d have followed me out like a puppy.”
His fingers flexed around hers. He didn’t like the stab of jealousy straight to his heart picturing Sophie performing her party trick on another man. “Yeah, we’ve got to have a chat about your party trick.” He leaned in closer. “I’m hoping you brought the Silver Bullet.”
She sucked in a breath. “Stop it,” she whispered, averting her red face, but not before desire flashed in her eyes.
Yeah, he intended to have fun in Vegas. A lot of fun.
Finally, he could relax. The assignment with Diaz had been finalized by Zeb, who’d collected the chip smoothly. The man and his family were on a plane over the Pacific. Zeb was monitoring their other cases. He wouldn’t admit it to Zeb, but it felt kind of good to back away from always being in control and let Zeb run the caseload.
Since he and Sophie had checked in early, they were boarding group A and were soon buckled in. Sophie had read and reread the safety procedures. When the plane had moved off its blocks she’d clutched his hand like she was going to meet her maker. During takeoff she’d all but climbed onto his lap.
“I’m not a frequent flier,” she said a short time later when the seatbelt sign flicked off.
“I guessed that.” He chuckled.
“First time on a plane,” she confessed.
He banked the information.
Did he always have to be on a case? Couldn’t it just be him and his girl hanging?
But Sophie was more than a girl—she was a paid assignment. It was getting harder and harder to remind himself of the fact.
She went to pull away her hand, but he held on, liking the feel of it in his.
“Been to the City of Sin?” he asked.
“No.”
That surprised him. He’d have thought with its jackpot of sinners the man could fleece, O’Connor would have been all over it.
She leaned in and whispered, “Do you think they sell silver bullets there?”
He blinked slowly. Again when he thought she couldn’t surprise him, she did. He kissed her slow and long until she melted into him and they were in danger of dissolving the seats. “We’ll find one.”
If they weren’t circling the airport they’d be making an entry into the mile-high club.
The plane landed without fanfare in Vegas.
He grabbed their bags from the overhead locker, held her hand, and exited the plane, scanning the area ahead as he went.
“Wow. Are we in a casino already?” Sophie asked.
Harlan breathed in stale tobacco and warm beer and looked down at her, not understanding. “We’re in the airport.”
Her hand landed on his arm. “How many slot machines are there?” She turned a circle, her eyes wide. “They’re everywhere, and people are playing them at eight in the morning?”
He shrugged. “Last minute roll of the dice hoping lady luck will smile down on them.”
He turned a professional eye on the crowd. Men in the uniform of Texas—jeans, boots, and Stetsons planted on their heads—sat beside California surfers, all plying machines with coins. A group of students wearing UNLV sweatshirts walked past wheeling bags. A group of businessmen sat at a bar knocking back Bud before rejoining their lives, their Vegas vacation now consigned to poker nights, the odd elbow in the rib, and a secret smile at a Fourth of July barbecue. A group of women all wearing name tags and dressed in pink scuttled past, the leader, Robin from Boise, Idaho, proclaiming that this weekend would be the best meeting of minds and cosmetics on the planet.
“If we keep this up, we’ll never get out of the airport,” Harlan said twenty minutes later, blowing out an exasperated breath.
Every few steps, Sophie had to stop and stare at the people.
He loved it when her cheeks got all pink. “This place is mesmerizing.” She pulled a map from her bag with one hand. “Right. We’ve got to get moving. I’ve got to get a cab to the rental company, then we can swing by the hotel, drop our bags, and meet with Danielle at eleven.” A cloud drifted across her face. “I hope this isn’t a bust and she turns up.”
Harlan didn’t answer, knowing her meet would be a fifty-fifty call. In their line of work, the chance of someone turning up to offer information without a cash incentive was fairly low, unless emotions came into play.
They made it to the line of cabs. She gave the driver the address and they headed north. Waves of heat rose from the desert in a shimmer. Dark clouds stewed on the horizon. “I wish I’d worn different clothes.” Sophie fanned herself with a tourist book she’d grabbed from a rack in the back of the cab.
Even in the comfort of the air-conditioned cab at nine in the morning, the mercury climbed on its inevitable journey of hitting triple digits by noon.
Harlan had been surprised when they’d headed away from the strip.
Twenty minutes later, he knew why.
Sophie stood in front of a peeling Rent a Bomb sign, her hands on her hips, sunglasses protecting her eyes.
“I’m not arguing with you. This is my case, and we’re on a budget. This car is perfectly capable of getting me where I need to go.” She unlocked the door of a dying mustard-colored Corolla. A scented pine tree with curling cardboard edges hung from the rearview mirror. The vinyl seats spilled foam. She threw her bag on the backseat and waved to the attendant who’d helped her sign the paperwork. “Besides, everyone knows that Corollas are safe, reliable, and fuel-efficient.”
At fifteen dollars a day you got what you paid for.
They both went to climb into the driver’s seat.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Do you know your way around Vegas?”
She returned the favor. “No, but I have Never-Stressed Nancy.” At his perplexed expression, she added, “She’s my GPS, so I’m good. I’ve got an hour before I meet with Danielle. I’ll drop my bag at the hotel, then I’ll find my way there in plenty of time.”
He kept his voice low and even. “It’ll be easier if I drive. I know the area, and I can get us around faster.”
Sweat prickled the back of his neck. It was already hot and getting hotter. The sooner they were in air-conditioned comfort with Sophie naked, the better.
He grinned, and she flipped him off.
She jumped into the car after he stabbed the remote four times.
Bent forward, she played with the nonexistent air conditioning. Her shirt rode up, giving him a taste of creamy skin and a sneak peek at a cotton waistband. He’d always been a Victoria’s Secret man until Sophie. Now, plain cotton made him hard. Painfully hard.
She tried the window button, which didn’t work, then gave up and turned to him, handing him an address. “Have you worked in Vegas a lot?”
“Yep. I’ve worked a few big security jobs here.” He scanned the address. “Are you sure this is right?”
She beamed at him. “Yeah, why? It’s cheap and cheerful, according to the internet, so a win-win all round.”
“It’s not a part of Vegas I’d han
g around in.”
She turned and her eyes sparkled. “Let’s go and find out.”
He pulled into minimal traffic. At nine in the morning, the majority of Vegas would be stacking z’s. Surprisingly, the car hummed along at a respectable speed.
Sophie found a radio station and sung about being locked out of heaven and sex that would take her to paradise.
Yeah, he had an opinion on that front.
He stopped outside the address, leaving the car running.
Nestled between Bubba’s Bail Bonds and Cash for your Stash pawnshop, the neon sign trying to spell out Rita’s Hotel but only managing “TA’s” sat between them. A group of men stood in front of the doorway to the pawnshop. The grate on the cast-iron door slid across, the door opened, and after a short discussion, one person walked in.
Two tired working girls perked up when he’d stopped the car, but had gone back to chatting when he shook his head. Too young to be hooking, too old and jaded to be high-end escorts, they took what they could get.
Cheap bourbon, cheaper scent, and broken dreams rose from the pavement.
Sophie craned forward, tipping the sunglasses on top of her head. “Maybe it’s better inside,” she said, indecision washing across her face.
“We’re not staying here.”
“I think we should go view the room.” Sophie worried her bottom lip.
He turned in his seat, his hands tightening on the wheel. “It’s a pay by the hour hotel.”
“It’s by the outlet mall,” she said as if trying to sell him on the point that getting a bargain at Gap and American Apparel would solve everything.
“It ain’t happenin’.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and started hunting through his contacts.
“I can’t afford somewhere on the strip. I’m working with a strict budget, and this place is the only one I could find in my client’s price range.” She waved her hand, her voice rising. “I’m sure it will be fine for one night.”
He lifted sunglasses to the top of his head and turned to face her. He reached forward and tucked that insubordinate curl of hair that wouldn’t be tamed behind her ear. He shouldn’t, but he somehow loved that curl.
“I’m not lying awake all night wondering when a strung-out junkie will break down the door looking for a buck so he can get his next fix. Nor do I want to hear a girl next door, getting paid by the hour, pretending she’s getting off on the twenty-dollar hand job she’s delivering.” At her wide eyes he continued, “I’d rather be in a safe room, fucking you on the bed, in the shower, and on the couch after having watched you get off with a vibrator. I’ll be able to fall asleep with you curled into me, knowing you’re safe.”
Her eyes went wider, and she sucked air through her teeth.
“So, the room’s on me. I think we’ll both come out winners.”
She flicked her glasses down but gave a sharp nod. He punched in the address of Sophie’s contact.
…
“She looks like her mom.” Danielle Winters looked down at the photo of Beth with her daughter, Hannah, cradled in her arms.
Danielle placed two cups of iced tea on a faded Formica table and sat across from Sophie.
Calendar shots of summery places with the month written across the bottom dotted the walls. Old furniture gleamed with polish. A bunch of plastic flowers sat in a glass vase on the table. Blue-and-white-checked curtains framed tidy windows. A daytime game show set to mute flickered on the TV in the corner.
“Thanks for the tea.” Sophie sipped the iced tea, the cool fluid washing away the desert dust coating her throat.
“Are you sure you don’t want a cup?” Danielle asked Harlan, who stood in the corner with his phone to his ear. He shook his head and smiled.
Sophie twisted her head and caught the tail end of his smile and, for the brief time it lit his face, her heart stilled.
Sophie had explained to a surprised Danielle that Harlan had accompanied her from Colorado. She didn’t give an exact reason, and Danielle didn’t push.
“Suzie and I worked together for a couple of years. Suzie liked to have fun, but time catches up. Tips were dropping off, and it started to worry her. She liked to be taken to the best bars and showered with gifts. She loved her nickname—‘Slow Screw Suzie’.” Danielle took a sip from her glass.
Sophie smiled encouragement.
“Anyway, Suzie figured the time had come to get attached to a man who could keep her how she wanted to be kept. A big accountant conference stayed at our hotel, and Suzie spied Jim West. Originally from Oklahoma, he’d done well for himself, real well, and Suzie decided he was her catch of the day. I don’t think Jim stood a chance. When Suzie set her mind and her sights on a man…well, her record stood for itself.” Danielle shook her head. “They were married three days later by a fake Barry Manilow. He was good, too. Had the white jumpsuit on and sang ‘Can’t Smile Without You.’ I witnessed the marriage. Jim was head over heels.” Danielle rubbed her throat. “Jim was a quiet man. A good man. I thought seeing how much Jim had fallen for Suzie, she’d settle down.” Danielle had a misty look in her eyes.
“Did you hear from her again after that?” Sophie gently pried.
“She left for her new life in Denver. We kept in touch. At first, Suzie loved ‘playing house’ as she called it. She pretty much fell pregnant straightaway. Unfortunately, she didn’t fit in with the neighbors’ wives or make any friends. People either loved or didn’t love Suzie, mostly the latter.”
Sophie looked across at Harlan who stared down at his phone. His gaze flicked to hers then back to his phone.
“After Bethie was born, I went up for a visit.” Danielle took another sip of tea then cleared her throat. “Huge disaster. Suzie didn’t like being a mother. Jim didn’t understand why Suzie didn’t want to spend time with their daughter or him. As soon as I arrived, she told us that she had to get away for a while.”
Danielle stared at a place only she could see. “That baby missed her mama. Her eyes would get wide, and if it wasn’t Suzie walking to pick her up, that little face would screw up and she’d howl.”
Sophie wondered what motherhood would be like if it wasn’t like the happy, dishwashing moms in commercials.
“Suzie would beg me to visit and send a plane ticket. This went on for about six months.” A sad smile touched her mouth. “I loved caring for Bethie. She calmed down. Lord, that baby was the sweetest thing.” A melancholy look flittered across her face. “I left it too late to find Mr. Right. By the time I got around to it, all the good ones were gone.” She blinked. “Anyway, the last time I went there, Suzie never came back. She left a note saying motherhood and marriage weren’t for her. I knew she wasn’t coming back. Jim went to the police, but they said she’d left of her own accord and it wasn’t a police matter.”
“Do you know where she is now?” Sophie held her breath.
“I saw her six months back, in the CVS on Paradise Road. She startled when she saw me, then pretended I didn’t exist.” Her face hardened. “Jim moved not long after Suzie left. I lost contact, but I always said if I could ever do anything for little Bethie, I would.” She paused. “Suzie’s working as a cocktail waitress at a certain kind of bar, which means you wait tables, double as a dancer, and do whatever you’re willing to do to pull tips.”
“How can you be sure it was her and where she works?” Sophie asked, hopeful but pragmatic. A lot of time had passed—Danielle could be mistaken.
“Oh, it was her all right. She looked horrified to see me, plus I know the uniform. It’s a no-questions-asked bar. Suzie had a jacket on, but I saw what she was wearing.” Danielle grabbed the pen and pad out of Sophie’s hand and wrote down the name and address of the bar, then tore off the sheet and handed it to Sophie, who handed Danielle the photo of Beth and her baby.
“Keep it. I think Beth would love for you to have it.” She pressed her lips together when Danielle blinked away tears. “Why don’t you give me your email address so if Beth wa
nts to contact you, she can?”
“I’d like that, if she wants. I understand if she doesn’t, but that would be real nice.” The older woman wrote her info on the pad, her hand shaking.
“Thank you.” Sophie stood and held out her hand.
Danielle surprised Sophie when she pulled her into an awkward hug.
“Would you give something to Bethie for me?”
“Sure.”
Danielle went to her purse and took out a small photo of her holding a baby; a beautiful smile lit her face. “It’s the only photo I’ve got of me and Beth, but I want her to know she was loved.” Danielle paused. “I can’t understand why a woman would up and leave her child. I hope Bethie finds the answer she’s looking for.”
Sophie squeezed Danielle’s hand, Beth’s happy ending vaporizing before her eyes.
A short time later the Corolla hummed along the concrete highway, Sophie stared out the window lost in thought. The parched brown landscape reminded her of crisscrossing the countryside with her father. All she needed was the smell of extra-strong peppermints and a religious channel pumping out songs on the radio to complete the picture.
The meeting with Danielle had left her sad and strangely emotional, like it was her time of the month and her hormones were all over the place.
She rubbed her hands across her face and kneaded her temples.
Harlan’s hand gently tugged hers and transferred her hand to his thigh.
She stared at a line of identical, small, detached terracotta-colored dwellings that housed the workers of Vegas, away from the bright lights and showgirl smiles.
“How did your mother die?” Harlan asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It upset my father when I asked about her, so I quit asking.” An ache bloomed in her chest when she thought of a mom she couldn’t remember.
She stared harder out the window.
I’m sure not going to ask about his mom.
They drove in relative silence. The wheeze of the dying air conditioning taking its last gasp of breath and the thwack of insects hitting the windshield were the only sounds apart from the top forty hits playing.
Bound to the Bounty Hunter Page 18