“You’re paranoid,” Rhen said dismissively, flicking his wrist as if he were shooing away a fly. “He’s tight with Gahn, so I’d cool it with the bad blood if I were you. Come on, let’s go,” he said, walking back to the car. “We ain’t gonna learn nothin’ else here.”
“I still gotta piss,” Cale grumbled, following him back to the car.
“Well?” Haden asked as they approached. Rhen folded his arms and leaned against the driver’s door, dipping his head to answer.
“He’s driving a black Camaro,” Rhen said. “It’s a bust on the plate number. You still want us to go back to Evercrest?” he asked Rowen.
“Yeah, there’s a lot of black Camaros on the road. Why don’t you and Cale take off. We’ll hook back up once he stops running with her, and then we’ll finish this.”
“Ok. We’ll be in touch.”
Rowen pulled away, leaving Rhen and Cale standing in the parking lot. They watched as the ambulance and police car pulled out behind them, each turning different directions.
“Come on,” Cale said, zeroing in on the guy who’d been talking to the police officer and was now walking toward a sweet cherry red convertible. “Let’s go get ourselves a ride.”
***
It was dark by the time they entered city limits, but the night lights still glowed brightly, lighting up the sky as if it were day. The traffic was bumper to bumper thick and the impatient blast of horns could be heard along with the occasional shout of profanity. Olivia watched in stunned silence as they passed people milling along the sidewalks, scantily clad women stood in the shadows of street corners. Flashing signs advertised casino shows and live entertainment everywhere she looked.
“So this is Vegas,” Olivia commented. “You sure you want to stop here, huh?”
“Yeah, there’s always a lot of commotion here. It’ll be a good place to hide you.”
“Oh,” she said, disappointedly, “and here I thought this was all a ploy so you could get me drunk and haul me off to a little white chapel to be married by a bad Elvis impersonator.”
Liam laughed, and the melodic cadence was music to her ears. She loved the sound of it. Who was she kidding, she loved everything about him.
“I’ll tell you right now, I’m a cheap drunk,” she teased, arching her brows flirtatiously.
Again, that rich chortle warmed her heart and she nearly melted in her seat. She’d spent the last several hours taking to heart what Liam said after they left the station. She could no longer keep lying to herself, or to Mitch. She couldn’t marry him, and she didn’t love him enough to pretend. It wasn’t fair to any of them to keep dragging this out.
If Liam hadn’t tossed his phone out the window, she’d call Mitch right now and tell him the truth—tell him that although she cared about him, she didn’t love him and couldn’t marry him. The one she loved was sitting right here beside her. Olivia didn’t know how long she’d have him, but she couldn’t bear the wall Mitch placed between them.
She wanted back what they’d once had. She wanted the intimacy, the passion, and although she knew it was going to hurt like hell when he left, at least she wouldn’t spend the rest of her life in regret from wasting what little time she did have with him. That she was certain of, because despite all the heartache she’d endured, never once did she regret, for even a second, the time she’d spent with Liam.
Olivia knew in her heart if something was going to happen between them, it’d have to be her that broke those boundaries. Liam was too strong, too rigid and self-disciplined, to ever cave to his flesh.
As the Camaro crawled down the streets of Sin City, she emotionally broke up with Mitch, vowing to make it official the next time she spoke with him and promising herself she wouldn’t spend another night being denied her heart’s desire.
Liam’s humorous chuckle ebbed. “As tempting as you make it sound, not once was Elvis in our wedding when I imagined it. So, I think you’re safe there.”
Olivia froze, her heart battering inside her chest like a butterfly trying to escape its net. “You have?” Her voice was nothing more than a broken whisper. “You’ve thought about our wedding?” That was just about the most romantic thing she’d ever heard, and it took nearly all her self-control not to throw herself into his arms right then and there.
“Of course I have. You’re not the only one who wishes this could have been more.”
Before she could get her shocked mind functioning enough to work up a response, Liam pulled into the turn-around of a skyscraping hotel. He parked the car and reached across Olivia’s lap, opening the glove box. A thrill of heat shot through her core when his chest pressed against her arm, his hand skimming her thigh.
“Did you take the valet key out of here?”
“Uh-uh…” She shook her head, her throat too dry to respond beyond an airy grunt. All too soon, he found the key and the hard, warm heat of his body was gone. Liam shut the glove compartment box and climbed out of the car. He handed the key to the valet and opened the passenger door for her. Offering his hand, she gladly accepted it, letting him help her out of the car.
Olivia tried to think of how many times Mitch had ever done something as thoughtful and effortlessly considerate for her as this, but she couldn’t remember him ever being that chivalrous.
“I bet you’re ready for a hot shower,” he commented, grabbing her bags from the back seat and slinging a duffle strap over his shoulder. He glanced back and gave her a smile that made her knees go weak.
“More than you know.”
***
The first thing Olivia did when they got to their room was head for the shower. She’d been in there so long the humidity had breached the small gap between the door and the floor. Her vanilla-jasmine scent saturated the muggy air, bringing Liam’s senses online and honed in to the fact that this woman was in the next room, very naked… And very engaged, he reminded himself, to quell the surge of liquid heat flooding his veins and rushing south.
Holy hell, he needed to get out of here. Sitting in the room and breathing in her scent wasn’t doing either of them any favors. He stood to leave and had taken a few determined steps in the right direction, when a thud echoed in the shower, followed by a muffled curse.
Reflexively, he turned about-face and headed for the bathroom. Pausing at the door, he tapped lightly. “Olivia?” He could hear her saying something, but couldn’t make it out through the door and hiss of the shower.
“Olivia? Are you all right? Do you need something?” he called through the door. No answer, just the muffled echo of her voice being drowned out by the blasting water.
“I can’t hear you, Olivia. I’m coming in,” he warned. With a mental command, the lock instantly disengaged as he turned the door handle. Liam opened the door, took a step inside the sauna of a bathroom and abruptly stopped. A wall of hot steam enveloped him, and his heart slammed inside his chest at the sight of Olivia silhouetted through the sheer mist-covered glass. He could hear what she was saying now—she was singing. No wonder she hadn’t been able to hear him.
Standing there frozen, he tried to do the right thing—turn around and leave. But as many times as he commanded his body to move, it refused. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. The rapid beat of his pulse pumped adrenaline through his veins, setting fire to his last few threads of control. A tortured groan rumbled in his chest. He wasn’t even aware it had escaped him until the hauntingly beautiful melody abruptly stopped.
As she bent to turn off the faucet, he couldn’t stop his eyes from traveling the length of her body—from the slender reach of her arm, to the rounded curve of her breasts, down to the gentle flare of her hips and long, exquisite legs...
Seeing her like this ushered in memories he’d been better off forgetting, but couldn’t, because every second he’d spent with this woman had been permanently seared into his brain. The memory of those arms wrapped around him as her fingers traced the muscular plane of his back, her breasts crushed against his chest, and
those legs…those long legs, tangled with his… Another tortured groan tore from his throat, except this time, it sounded more like a feral growl.
Oh shit… He needed to leave—now!
The shower ceased, and Olivia’s voice hesitantly broke the silence. “Liam?”
The arid click of his throat as he swallowed was his only answering response. He willed his thrumming pulse to heel and took a deep breath, pulling in the necessary oxygen so his brain could begin putting two rational thoughts together again. But he only succeeded in drawing Olivia’s scent deeper into his lungs.
The shower door slid open, just far enough to reveal her beautiful face and the arch of her slender shoulder. He crossed a booted heel over the other and spun around. Jacking his hand into his hair, he stuttered an explanation. “I…I heard a thud, and then you yelled. I knocked, but you didn’t answer. I was worried—”
Her light, feminine laugh cut him short.
Funny…? She thought this was funny? The fire inside him burned his veins to ash, the ache in his groin nearly doubling him over. This was not funny. “I fail to see your humor,” he ground out through clenched teeth, his control ready to snap its leash any second. He wondered how funny she’d think it was when he marched over to the shower, tossed her over his shoulder, caveman style, and hauled her into the bedroom.
Just because he couldn’t have sex with her didn’t mean there wasn’t a hell of a lot of other things he’d like to do to her between the sheets. She gave him way too much credit—put too much faith in his altruistic nature.
“Yeah, you…” Olivia teased glibly. “You remind me of a little kid who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. You know,” her voice turned serious, taking on a salacious edge that wafted over to him like a gentle caress. “If I’d known you wanted in, you could have just said so, and I would have invited you to join me.”
“I don’t think Mitch would appreciate that,” he replied coolly, forcing one foot in front of the other and walking out of the bathroom before he did something they were both going to regret. It’d taken every last bit of his strength to force those words of self-preservation past his lips, a necessary reminder that she was no longer his. With a mental command, he closed the bathroom door behind him and stopped at the table across from the bed to scribble a note. He marched out the door, desperate for some fresh air and a little space between himself and the object of his desire.
***
Olivia stood in stunned silence, dripping wet, as the blast of cool air carried in on the heels of the slamming bathroom door stung her overheated flesh. She hadn’t told Liam that she no longer planned to marry Mitch, and before she could rectify the miscommunication, he’d stormed out. Dammit, this wasn’t how she’d wanted tonight to go.
Frustrated, she threw the shower door open and ripped the towel off the rack. “Liam!” she called after him, hastily wrapping the white terry cloth around her soaking wet body. She didn’t bother to dry off as she stomped out after him. She’d had enough of his sweet one minute and pushing her away the next. They were going to have a sit-down and clear the air, once and for all. And if, after she told him she wasn’t going to marry Mitch, he still insisted on pushing her away, then he could just take her ass back home, because she couldn’t stand this distance between them anymore.
Having him here, within arm’s reach, and still being denied her heart’s desire was more painful than having him gone. “Liam! I know you can hear me, dammit! I’m coming out! Don’t worry, I’m wearing a towel!” she snapped sarcastically.
He didn’t answer. Nothing but silence greeted her as she marched into the main room after him. “Liam?” She glanced around the room—empty. She walked into the kitchenette—he was gone.
As she stomped back into the bedroom, she noticed the pad of paper on the table, stopped, and picked it up.
Stepped out for some fresh air. Wait here.
“Wait here?” she snapped incredulously. Oh, hell no! He did not just bail on her! “I don’t think so!” Liam wasn’t the only one who was pent up and frustrated. If he could go out and blow off some steam, then what’s good for the goose was good for the gander. She was not going to sit here like some lovesick little twit, waiting for Liam to come back and grace her with his presence.
Dropping her towel to the floor, she unzipped her bag and dug out a pair of black lace panties. She slid them on before stepping into a matching spaghetti-strap sundress. Olivia adjusted her breasts to fit into the built-in shelf bra, and ruffled her fingers through her damp mane.
After a few minutes of primping, she pulled on her sandals, grabbed the key card off the dresser, and stuffed it into her purse, grumbling, “I’ll be damned if I’m going to spend the night here, sitting in this room, waiting for you! I’ve been waiting for you for the last three years!” she continued to rant under her breath as she marched out the door and down the hall. Stopping at the elevator, she jabbed the down arrow button and then gave it one more poke for good measure when the button didn’t light up.
“Three years…” she grumbled. “Hell, more like my whole damn life!” Olivia was greeted with a ding when the doors slid open, and she stepped inside, still grumbling to herself as they slowly slid closed.
Chapter Twelve
“You really think they’re in Vegas?” Rowen asked Haden as they drove down the main strip.
“I know they are,” Haden replied. “Just keep your eyes out for a black Camaro.”
“Sure, because there won’t be many of those.”
“Probably not very many with Florida plates, smart ass.”
“Why are you so sure they’re here?”
“Because this city is packed like rats. It’s harder for me to track her here with all these people. Hit the most populated areas first. That’s where he’s gonna hide her.”
“Shit, we’re lookin’ for a needle in a goddamn haystack here,” Rowen complained.
“You think I don’t know that? Now, quit your yappin’ and let me concentrate,” he growled, shooting Rowen an impatient glare.
What in the hell did this asshole think? That Liam was going to make this easy for them? His talent wasn’t an exact science, either. It was more like a sixth sense kinda thing. Well, seventh in his case. Sure, his preternaturally acute sense of sight, hearing, and smell were helpful, but it was his ability to hook into the energy of the sighted that allowed him to track her.
He didn’t know how it worked—only that it did. Every human’s life force threw off energy, and that energy had a certain white-light generic feel to it. But the sighted, they were different. Tapping into them was like taking a hit of coke. The rush was powerful, intense. Their light was colorful instead of a bland, translucent white. The problem here was sorting through all this human waste to find her. It was draining, exhausting actually, not that he’d admit as much to Rowen.
At this rate, he figured he had a good two hours left in him before he was gonna need to rest and refuel. They drove down several streets, looking for the Camaro. As Haden instructed, they crawled past MGM. He was about to suggest they hit the Red Light District when Rowen slammed on the brakes, pitching Haden into the dash. Motherfucker…
“Ho-ly shit! I can’t believe it! There he is!”
Haden’s gaze followed Rowen’s pointed finger and instantly locked on their target. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he murmured, watching Liam trek down the street at a brisk clip. The glower on the warrior’s face warned anyone with a lick of self-preservation to stay the hell away from him. Huh…trouble in paradise?
“You know, I gotta tell ya, I was starting to think you were a poser. I really did. But here he is, you fucking rock star!”
Haden wasn’t about to tell him it was pure, dumb luck that they had found him. As he stretched his senses, he still couldn’t pick up shit on that female. But considering Liam had just blown out of MGM looking pissed off as hell, it was a pretty good guess that the female was inside.
“Pull in here.” Haden poin
ted to a parking lot. “I need you to keep the warrior occupied while I go have a look around the casino. The longer he’s away, the better. This could take a while.”
Rowen nodded his consent. “I’ll meet ya back here.” He parked the Buick and didn’t waste any time hopping out to beat feet after Liam.
Haden had to give the guy props. It took balls to tangle with a warrior, and this one looked like he was itchin’ for a good, bloody fight.
***
The six-block walk to the pub did nothing to soothe Liam’s raw nerves. Four times, prostitutes had slipped out of the shadows to make him offers he’d been more than happy to refuse. The last one had latched onto him, offering to “do him for free,” because she was “gonna enjoy it as much as he would,” and “chargin’ him for it” just wouldn’t feel right.
He reeked of cheap perfume and crack. The scent clung to him, assaulting his overly-acute sense of smell, and now all he wanted to do was get back to the hotel and wash this woman’s stench off him. But he knew Olivia would be hungry. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast. And rather than ditch his second reason for coming down here, he decided to stop at the pub and get Olivia something to eat.
He could have ordered room service, but then, that would negate his first reason for coming down here—putting a little breathing room between him and that female. Just the thought of her made his blood run hot. It was getting harder and harder to do the right thing, and he was honestly starting to wonder just how long he could continue to play the “good guy” here.
Olivia certainly wasn’t making it any easier on him. It was almost as if she wanted him to break, wanted to take them back down the road that had nearly destroyed them both. Certainly he was mistaken. Who in their right mind would ever want to go through that kind of pain again?
But, damn, he hungered for her. He hungered for her touch, her kiss. He hungered for the way she used to look at him—happy, carefree…in love…
Shades of Darkness (Redemption Series) Page 11