Sleepless in Las Vegas

by Colleen Collins

  Slumping into the chair, she smothered back the sob in her throat. Her nerves were raw, her heart torn and the man she loved was falling, falling into an abyss that would be his undoing. How insane, how crazy, that both of them were willing to lose dignity, their love, for a worthless, conniving lowlife.

  She missed Drake already, ached with regret that after spending long days together, overcoming problems and baring their souls to each other, their final parting was tense and chilly. What a waste of their time together for them to return to being the same two people who’d met that first night at Dino’s, caught up in self-justifications and personal agendas. But obviously they weren’t those two people anymore, otherwise she wouldn’t feel the misery of words left unsaid, the pain of two hearts ripped apart before their time.

  For the next few minutes, she looked out at the crowd of people, thinking back to the Superdome. All those souls packed in a large room, all those stories of loss and pain. Yet she, and thousands of others, hadn’t let the devastation prescribe the rest of their lives. If she simply gave in to Yuri’s threat—and for that matter, Drake’s foolhardy risk to save her—everything she’d overcome, all the lessons she’d learned, lost their meaning.

  She straightened, swiped the tears off her cheeks, knowing there was only one thing to do.

  * * *

  EXITING THE CASINO, Drake walked into the stifling-hot summer night. In the hazy sky, the thin smile of the waxing crescent moon seemed to jeer at him.

  He headed to the gated entrance to the wave pool, which had closed several hours ago to the public. Yuri had connections to throw a “private party” here. He gave his name to the stocky shadow, who insisted Drake hand over his phone before opening the gate.

  In the flickering light from several tiki torches, a dozen or so people mingled. Over the buzz of conversations and clinking of glasses, he recognized a local radio station’s jingle. Far in the background, dark waves rose and crashed on a sandy shore, as real as any Vegas magician’s illusion.

  Major hotels like the Mandalay had surveillance cameras installed on their property, but with only the torches for light, it was too dark for any cameras to capture footage of the party. And with the bouncer taking his phone, Drake was shit out of luck recording Yuri.

  He heard a familiar laugh. Braxton with his new buzz cut stood next to Vadim and Yuri, the three of them laughing, drinks in their hands.

  A slim woman in tight black jeans, heels and a sparkly top walked up to Yuri and handed him a drink. He took it, kissed her on the lips. She laughed, nuzzled his cheek, then patted his ass before sashaying away.

  Drake’s insides curdled. Sally. An item with Yuri?

  Scenes flashed in his mind. Sally, telling him the hours she’d seen Yuri’s car at Topaz. Of course, bogus information Yuri wanted her to feed to Drake. Sally asking Drake if he was going home, then picking up her phone. It sickened him to realize she must have called Yuri, who was probably also on his way to Drake’s house, ready to torch it.

  He’d once thought he hadn’t picked up Sally’s signals. Now he realized he’d been picking them up all along. She was a fraud, a snake, and deep down he had known to back off.

  Unlike Val, whom he’d met and immediately distrusted. But his gut instincts had known better. She was the real deal, and deep down in his heart he had known to keep chasing her.

  He didn’t need a gut instinct to help him handle this next relationship, though.

  Drake walked up to Yuri, Vadim and Braxton. Standing in front of his brother, he stared him square in the face. “You two-faced bastard.”

  Clapping Drake on the back, Yuri laughed. He smelled of booze, cigarette smoke and too much cologne. He shooed away Brax and Vadim.

  “Hello, Drake,” Yuri said, “care for drink?”

  “No. Let’s get this over with.”

  Even in the flickering light, Drake could see the greed on Yuri’s face. “Straight to business. I like that.”

  “I have twenty-two thousand, seven hundred dollars.”

  “I tell you twenty-five.” He belched.

  “And I’m telling you twenty-two seven.”

  He swayed forward, snarling, “Nobody cheat Yuri Glazkov.”

  “I’ll pay you the rest over the next month.”

  “No! You pay me tonight!” After fumbling in his shirt pocket, he held up the ring. “So sad, your father,” he said, dripping false concern, “very sick when he give to me. Tell me ring have much family history.”

  “I’ll pay the thirty in six months.” He didn’t know how, but somehow he’d do it.

  “I give you two hours to pay twenty-five thousand protection money,” he said darkly, “or girlfriend have unfortunate accident. As to ring…I teach you lesson for late payment.”

  He staggered away, lumbering toward the crashing surf of the wave pool, yelling in Russian.

  Drake, balling his hands into fists, followed Yuri into the shadows beyond the torch flares. The Russian lurched to the edge of the dark swelling waters, and stopped. Screaming a curse, he drew back his arm and threw the ring far into the waves.

  “Damn you!” Drake ran forward, staring at another looming dark wave. “It will be sucked into the wave-making machinery within minutes!”

  “That’s for being late with money.” Yuri laughed.

  Drake strode over to the Russian and slammed a fist into his gut. “And that’s for Hearsay, you scumbag.”

  As the Russian doubled over, coughing, a woman cried out.

  “No!” Val yelled, “We can’t lose the ring!”

  * * *

  VAL HAD WALKED into the private party in time to see Yuri waving the ring at Drake, yelling threats. Terrified, she had followed the two of them to the wave pool. It had been too dark to see Yuri throw the ring, but after hearing Drake’s shout, she didn’t think twice about what to do.

  “He won’t destroy your family history,” she cried, kicking off her shoes and tossing off her dress.

  In her panties and bra, she ran across gritty sand, stumbling to a stop at the first jolt of cold water. For an instant she froze, watching a dark wall of water surge forward and crash, its icy spray burning her skin.

  She’d chanced dark waters before, and she’d failed.

  Taking a risk is sometimes the only way to win.

  A jolt of adrenaline shot through her, spurring her forward. She ran, stumbling as a wave slammed into her. Catching her balance, she lurched forward and dived into the wet gloom.

  She’d swum in a wave pool years before, remembered the suction being strongest at the bottom. Kicking and stroking, she propelled herself downward in the black water, which pulsed with the muffled thumping of the wave-making pump. Touching the concrete bottom, she skimmed the surface with her fingertips, feeling, searching.

  Long seconds passed as she felt along the floor, her lungs burning, eyes stinging from the chlorine. She couldn’t stay down here…she’d failed…

  Her fingers touched something small and hard.

  Kicking her feet, she thrust forward her hand, grappling for a hold.

  Just as she plucked it, strong arms yanked her up, up. As she soared through the black water, images filled her mind. A couple smiling. A bolt of blue. An owl circling a grave. Joy resonated through her.

  Bursting through the surface of the water, she gasped for air, clutching the ring. Drake held her tight as he slogged through the water, waves crashing around them.

  “I…have the…”

  Her happiness turned to terror as she saw the shadowy shapes moving toward the pool.

  * * *

  HEAVING BREATHS, DRAKE, wearing his boxers and T-shirt, trudged out of the water with Val in his arms, staring at the people heading their way. Too dark to see more than their forms. Several carried flashlights. He lowered Val to her feet, picked up her dress and tossed it to her, then started tugging on his jeans.

  “I have three things to say to you,” Drake murmured. “One, I didn’t gamble. Two, I was an asshol
e today and I’m sorry. Three, if we get out of this alive, will you marry me?”

  “Las Vegas Police,” a man yelled.

  Followed by Braxton yelling, “Way to go, Aqua Man!”

  “And I have three things to say to you,” she muttered, adjusting her dress. “One, I think we’re getting out of this alive. Two, yes! Three…”

  “Aqua Man,” Braxton said, walking up. He wrapped a towel around Val’s shoulders.

  “Couldn’t you have found a reason for there to be more lights at the party?” Drake groused. “The hotel surveillance cameras are a bust.”

  “No need,” rasped a familiar voice. Tony moved forward, holding a flashlight. “I gave Braxton that wireless recorder I told you about. He slipped it in Yuri’s shirt pocket. Recorded him clear as a bell. Oh, and the rest of the DNA test results came back. I think Yuri needs to start saying his goodbyes, because he’s going to prison for a long time.”

  Sputtering a laugh, Drake tugged Val close to him. “We did it, baby.” He looked at Tony. “When did you become part of the sting?”

  “Yuri’s my suspect, too, my friend. Had a nice chat with the police today, learned about Braxton’s call to them, told them to get me a seat at the table.”

  A police officer walked up. “Mr. Morgan, I have a few questions to ask.”

  “One minute, Officer,” Tony cut in. “I’m starting my interview with him. Miss LeRoy is next.” After the cop walked away, he said under his breath to Drake, “Figured you two needed a moment together.” He glanced at Braxton. “Let’s take a walk, homeboy.”

  Drake turned to Val, hugged her close. “Three?”

  She took his hand and placed the ring in it.

  “Unbelievable,” he murmured. He cupped her face in his hands, planting a soft kiss on her lips.

  “We’ll give it to Grams for her birthday.”

  He picked up her hand and slid the ring on a finger. “She already told me she wants her future granddaughter-in-law to wear it.”

  “And one day, we’ll add our diamond, too.” She paused. “Hear that? It’s Frank Sinatra singing.”

  “Must be the radio station they were playing at the party. Nobody’s turned it off yet.”

  “He’s singing that she’s too marvelous for words. It’s that song! Hear that part about stealing a love song from the birds? That’s the song we heard him singing in the penthouse. Do you think it was…?”

  Holding her close, he looked up at the distant stars. “I think just because you can’t touch something doesn’t mean it’s not real.”

  EPILOGUE

  November, Las Vegas

  VAL, DRAKE AND assorted others congregated in the plush office of lawyer Eddie “Bingo” Huttner, who sat behind his mahogany desk perusing a document with a gold seal. Tan and fit in a three-piece pin-striped suit, Eddie looked just like his picture on countless billboards across Vegas advertising the busy Kaufman & Huttner Law Firm.

  Ten people sat on folding chairs in the office, Drake and Val at the back, holding hands.

  “As you all are aware,” Eddie explained, “Jayne Diamond revised her will in the weeks before her death, and I will now announce the bequests.” Slipping on a pair of glasses, he began reading. “To her brother, Bradford Diamond, her Las Vegas home, her IRA and numerous family heirlooms. To the Clark County Humane Society, a cash gift of ten thousand dollars, contributed in Hearsay’s name. To her protegee, Val LeRoy, she posthumously grants the Diamond Grade along with the Diamond Investigations office and attached living space on the condition that Miss LeRoy continues her mentorship with Drake Morgan, who may share and enjoy this space, as well. On the day of their marriage, which Miss LeRoy had informed Ms. Diamond will be this coming month, Drake will receive an equal interest as a joint tenant in the office and residential space.” He paused, looked at Val. “There is a message directed to Val LeRoy solely, which I will only share with others, if given Miss LeRoy’s permission.”

  Her chin trembling, Val nodded.

  “Val, my wedding gift to you is the crystal figurine. Just as the birds symbolized my and Margaret’s love for many years, may it represent your and Drake’s love for the rest of your days.”

  * * *

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Drake and Val walked hand in hand to their car in the law-firm parking lot. It was typical Las Vegas winter weather, warm and breezy.

  “Ma invited us over for dinner tomorrow,” Drake said. “She and Brax are cooking.”

  “Great. And don’t forget Saturday is the grand opening of Jasmyn’s new dance studio, Je Reve. I was thinking of buying her a beret and an Edith Piaf CD to go with the Parisian decor of the studio.”

  Three months earlier, Dottie the Body had retired and invited Jaz, her star pupil, to take over her burlesque school. Jaz, using her background in dance, added tap and ballet lessons to the class schedule.

  Val paused, watching a hearse as it drove down the street.

  “Goodbye, Jayne,” she whispered.

  “Goodbye, old friend,” Drake murmured.

  Turning to Drake, Val lightly touched her tummy. “If it’s a girl, I’d like her middle name to be Jayne. What do you think?”

  He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. “I think that sounds too marvelous for words.”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from A VALLEY RIDGE CHRISTMAS by Holly Jacobs.

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  PROLOGUE

  BOYD MYERS WANTED more than anything to glance over at his wife, Josie, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off the road. Not that he could see much of the road beneath the white wall of snow.

  “We need to pull off the interstate.” His voice seemed very loud after listening to the wind buffet the RV for so long.

  He white-knuckled the steering wheel and hunched forward, as if moving closer to the windshield would help him see some landmark. A guardrail. A sign. Another car. He hadn’t seen headlights in what felt like forever. That didn’t mean there was no one else on the road, only that the snow hid them—and that possibility scared him.

  “There,” Josie said, pointing to the right.

  Boyd jumped and tightened his grip, thinking she’d spotted some other vehicle, but Josie simply said, “A town. Valley Ridge.”

  A small sign bearing the words, Valley Ridge, lit up for a split second under his headlights. There must have been other signs farther back that they’d missed because the turnoff was almost immediate. If he’d been going sixty-five miles an hour, he’d have shot right by the exit ramp. But because he was only going ten, maybe fifteen miles an hour, it was possible for him to ease the RV off the highway.

  “Now I know how the shepherds felt,” Josie murmured.

  “Shepherds?” he asked.

  “They had a star that lit the way to Bethlehem—all they had to do was follow it.”

  Despite the weather and his anxiety, he chuckled. “If there were stars tonight, we’d never see them through the snow. We’ll have to be thankful for the street signs.” The off-ramp ended and he brought the RV to a halt. “Which way?”

  “All we have to do is follow the signs,” she said, pointing.

  There was another sign proclaiming Valley Ridge to the right.

  Some of his anxiety eased—Josie always knew what to say. He put her throu
gh so much, but her optimistic attitude never wavered.

  Boyd had never heard of Valley Ridge. He wasn’t sure if they were in New York still or if they had crossed over into Pennsylvania—not that it mattered. Just as it didn’t matter how small a town this Valley Ridge was. It would have some parking lot he could pull the RV into. And if not, pulling over to the side of the road there had to be a great deal safer than pulling over to the side of the interstate. Frankly, he hadn’t been sure he could tell where the side of the interstate was.

  He eased the RV onto the two-lane road and followed the sign that pointed to the right. It felt as if it took hours to enter the town proper, but he finally spotted a sign that read Valley Ridge Library. He couldn’t see the building, but there were reflectors that marked what he assumed to be the driveway. He pulled the RV between them and parked. It was probably the middle of the unlit parking lot, but for tonight, that would suffice.

  He turned off the engine and finally looked at his wife. “I wasn’t sure we were going to make it.”

  “I never doubted you for a minute.” Josie’s arms were resting on her enormous stomach. “Carl slept through the whole thing.”

  He glanced at his two-year-old son, safely strapped into his car seat in the back.

  “I’ve never driven in such a bad storm.” And he never wanted to be out in weather like this again.

  His fault. This was all his fault.

  If the plastics plant he’d worked for hadn’t closed. If he hadn’t lost his job, they wouldn’t have lost their tiny bungalow in Plattsburgh, Vermont. If they hadn’t lost the house, he wouldn’t have sold everything to buy a twenty-year-old RV that had seen better days and packed up his family, then headed off to North Dakota and the promise of work there.

  As if she knew what he was thinking, Josie leaned over and kissed his unshaven cheek. “It will all come out in the wash, Boyd.”

  He smiled to hear her using her grandmother’s saying. Her grandmother had been a crusty old woman who’d scared the heck out of him at first, but eventually became a grandmother to him, as well. When their families objected to them marrying at such a young age, she’d stood up for him and Josie.