Leaving Las Vegas (Entangled Ignite) (10 page)

“Do you think that you can get through that?” She pointed to the window.

Luke looked up. His jaw was tight, his hands clenched into fists. “Not a chance.”

“That’s what I thought.” Damn. That meant Glory was going to have to go through the window. Alone. “Here. Hold this,” she said, shoving the bag of money in his hands. “I’m going to crawl out and create a distraction. Then you’ll sneak out through the front door.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?” She blinked in disbelief.

“Not a chance.” He stepped close, too close. His body was hot against hers. His muscles were tense; a vein throbbed on the side of his neck. “I’m not letting you put yourself in danger.”

“Someone has to create a distraction. If I thought we had time, I’d call my cousin Benji, find out how to turn a two-ton SUV into a crater. Don’t worry. I’ll think of something.”

“It’s not an option. I won’t let you.”

“I’m not asking permission.” She pushed him aside, slammed the toilet seat down, and climbed on top. She could just reach the bottom of the window with her hands. She pulled, hard, trying to remember the exercises she’d learned in gym class. She might have paid more attention if the baseball team hadn’t been working out at the same time. As it was, she’d learned more about the male form than doing pull-ups. “You’re not looking at my ass, are you?”

He was definitely looking at her ass.

“Once you get outside, I’m giving you the car keys,” Luke said. “And the money. I don’t need a distraction—I’ll think of something—I need you to get the hell out of here.”

His words had her stopping mid-wriggle. She knew that tone. Luke had sounded firm, but there was something else in his voice. Something soft. Almost as if he couldn’t swallow. It was the same tone that Benji used when he was falling in love for the hundredth time in a week. Only…Luke didn’t even like her. Did he? Strong arms wrapped around her knees, lifting her easily into the air. His thumb trailing across her inner thigh. Her breath caught in her lungs. Holy moly. What was he doing?

“You have five minutes,” he said, his voice cold. “If I don’t hear the Vanquish drive off by then, I’m coming after you. Understand?”

A slight push, tipping her over the edge, and she was out the other side of the window, tumbling wildly to the ground.

Years of crazy accidents and random occurrences had taught her a few simple laws to live by. She always packed clean clothing in the trunk of her car and she didn’t put her hands out in front of her for a fall. That was a rookie mistake. It put too much pressure on the wrists. The smarter move was to try to land on her forearms, distributing her weight evenly.

The air slammed out of her. The ground in front of her spun. Her body hurt like hell. She was going to have bruises in the morning. That was fine. It was the blood that she could feel welling up in fresh scrapes that was going to be a pain in the butt. The gravel that had embedded itself in her arms wasn’t exactly comfy, either. But at least she hadn’t sprained her wrists.

The asphalt was dark, hot from the morning sun. Ten feet away, scrawny trees lined the far edge of the parking lot, swaying to and fro in a breeze she couldn’t feel. She was at the back of the diner where they’d parked the Vanquish beside two large, rusted trucks and an old sedan that had once been stained red with house paint. To one side, the diner’s large air-conditioning unit hummed and coughed.

The keys came flying through the window, clattering against the asphalt.

There was a gruff cough, someone clearing their throat. Glory’s heart kicked up again and she glanced up, ready to run if it was someone dangerous. Nope. Not a goon. Just the waitress who’d served them earlier. The woman wore a pissed-off expression and was smoking a long, thin cigarette.

“Don’t throw the money,” Glory whispered, hoping Luke would hear.

She walked away from the window and over to where the waitress stood, leaning against the exterior wall. She desperately tried to appear nonchalant, although stopping halfway to pick up the car keys didn’t help.

“Um, think you could help me?” she asked the waitress when she got close.

“You running from your boyfriend?” When the waitress spoke, the cigarette waved up and down between her lips.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Glory tried to ignore how much her arms hurt, but she had sense enough to notice the woman’s name, embroidered on her uniform. Myrna.

“Man that good-looking, he’d definitely be my boyfriend.” A short pause. “He doesn’t look much like someone you’d date, though.” A quick headshake, dyed curls flying out of her ponytail. “Small-town girl, big-city guy, I see it all the time. For her, it’s first time she’s been more than a hundred miles from home. Her boyfriend’s wearing shoes that could pay my rent for six months.” A gesture, stabbing with the cigarette end to emphasize her point. “Sound familiar?”

“Sort of.” The small-town girl, big-city guy part, mostly. She and Luke definitely weren’t in the same league. Heck, they weren’t even playing the same sport. Her love life was like tackle football, the kind played on Saturday afternoons, without any padding. His was probably like figure skating. Slow, elegant, with lots of flowers and boring music.

“Um…Myrna, I need a favor. Can you go inside and pull the fire alarm?” Glory asked.

“Nah. Busboy did it too many times last year. The boss fixed the damn thing so it doesn’t go off unless there’s actually smoke.”

“Can you go inside and start a fire?”

“Nope.” The cigarette was burning down. Myrna removed it from her mouth with two fingers, careful to keep away from the dark stains that her red lipstick left on the far end. “Why are you running away from your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Glory muttered through clenched teeth.

“You keep telling yourself that, girlie.” Myrna flicked the remnants of her cigarette to the ground, stubbing it out with a decisive step. “When you sleep with him, make sure that you get something better than a dinner at this dump. Rubies are nice.” Red fingernails moved up to fumble with her shirt buttons. “Ruby earrings. That’s what I’d get.”

“Thanks for the shopping advice. I still need help. Any advice?”

“My shift’s over, so I’m not going back inside. I’m giving you my shirt.” The older woman sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “I might hold out for more than earrings if I were you. I saw the way that man looked at you. A bracelet, a necklace…heck, he might go all the way and give you a ring before he gets bored.” She slipped her shirt off over her head. “You’d better give me yours, or I’ll be arrested for indecent exposure on my way home.”

“Right.” Myrna’s blouse was pink, shiny, with black buttons and a lacy collar. The outfit screamed waitress. It was the same style as the dress Glory had worn when she’d started working at the diner. The day she’d bought the place, she’d burned her uniform and ordered a bunch of boatneck T-shirts with the diner’s name printed on the front and a little line drawing of the town’s beach splashed across the back.

Glory slipped her T-shirt over her head and held it out to the older woman. “Why are you helping me?”

“Funny you should ask. Cute girl like you, I expect a lot of people do what you want without even wondering why.” Myrna tugged the blue T-shirt on as Glory dressed in the waitress’s top. “I used to be a lot like you. I did what I wanted, when I wanted, and who I wanted. I flirted with men I could never get.” A sigh. “Never keep, anyway.”

The older woman checked her appearance in the metallic surface of the air conditioner. The reflection was rough, scarred by dozens of small scratches. “I guess that’s why I’m helping you. That, and your boyfriend tipped me fifty dollars.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Glory said. She finished buttoning the blouse. “And when I do sleep with him—if I sleep with him—it won’t be for rubies or gold.” Or even the money she needed to save her town. “It’ll be because he can make my insides melt with a single look.”

“Uh-huh.” Myrna shrugged and walked away, fumbling for a fresh cigarette from her back pocket. “Try not to burn the place down while I’m gone,” she called over her shoulder before getting into the rust-bucket sedan.

Try not to burn the place down. That was a nice suggestion, but it wasn’t a plan. Glory tucked the car keys into her bra, straightened her shoulders, and walked around the wall of the diner, up the front steps, and through the door. When her sneakers finally hit the diner’s stained linoleum floor, it took everything she had not to scream. She reached up to toy with the charm hanging around her neck, holding her breath when the gun thugs glanced in her direction. Nothing happened. The men hadn’t really seen her the night before. They’d seen a girl with brown hair, a tight blue shirt, and a fast car.

Walking through the diner, she kept her motions loose, easy. A woman in uniform never got noticed, not really. Not even by the cook behind the grill who knew she didn’t belong. Dark eyes gave her a quick once-over before he turned back to his work. In a few minutes he might ask what she was doing, but at the moment, there were onions to cut, and her uniform was the right shade of pink.

Waitresses at roadside diners came and went even faster than the distant relations who always seemed to need a job at Glory’s place in Beaux.

The thugs were sitting in a booth. That wouldn’t do, not if Luke was going to get from the bathroom to the door without being noticed. Glory stepped behind the counter and began to putter around.

There was one rule of thumb every small-town waitress knew. Undoing a single button was worth an extra five dollars in her tip jar at the end of the night. Undoing three buttons was worth an extra twenty. She undid her top four buttons carefully, wishing she’d worn a nicer bra. One that was newer, more supportive, and didn’t have a stain on the left cup from the last time she’d gone berry picking.

Every time she bent over, the goons got a good look down the front of her shirt. Refilling the salt shakers, filling the water pitcher, wiping down the counter. A practiced flick of her head sent long curls tumbling down her back.

The motions were blatant, heavy-handed, executed without Hallie’s skill or Ashley’s enthusiasm. It didn’t matter. Less than thirty seconds later, the thugs had stood up and moved from the booth to the counter, all ready to give her their orders. Two Reubens, a stack of pancakes with bacon on the side, and a cheeseburger.

“You boys better watch yourself,” she warned. “That stuff will kill you.”

She’d only have one chance to get Luke out of the bathroom. She needed to time everything perfectly, and hoped he’d be able to hear his cue through the wall between the dining room and the bathroom.

“Need anything else?” she asked, picking up the pitcher of water. It was heavy in her hands, cool. The outside of the glass pitcher was sweating. Somewhere else the waitress might have put lemon slices in the top, but this wasn’t that kind of place and Glory wasn’t that kind of waitress. Hands raised the pitcher high above her head, the glistening water shining in the morning light. A deep breath, a quiet moment, and the pitcher slipped from her hand.

It was an accident. It had to be. No one would purposefully dump a pitcher of ice water on herself.

“Damn it!” Glory yelled. The noise was loud. Very loud. A soft shudder moved through her body. She was cold and wet, and the water meant that the shirt clinging to her body was now transparent.

Now
that
was a distraction.

Chapter Ten

Luke was in the middle of checking his watch for the tenth time since Glory had gone out the window when he heard the yell.
Glory
.

Holy hell. Was that the “distraction” she’d been talking about? Didn’t matter. He couldn’t stay in the bathroom any longer. A woman was in danger. A bright, beautiful, wonderful woman who made his heart flutter with a smile that made his blood run hot through his veins.

He wrenched open the bathroom door and sprinted out into the middle of the diner, the bag of money in his hand, then spun angrily, ready for a fight. There was no way that he was going to let Glory get hurt.

But she wasn’t hurt. No, Glory was standing behind the diner’s long linoleum counter, smiling at the thugs.
Smiling
. She was a mess. Water soaked her from head to toe, pouring down the front of a shirt she hadn’t been wearing five minutes earlier.

The shirt was pink. Or at least, it had been. It took him a moment to recognize the waitress’s uniform—it looked different when it was translucent. The wet fabric clung to her body, revealing every hard muscle and soft curve.

His breath caught in his throat. She had wonderful curves.

The thugs certainly seemed to think so. They gathered around her with paper napkins and a dishcloth they’d found somewhere, trying to pat her down. Looking past them, Luke saw a twinkle in Glory’s eye. Her lips twitched upward. Her teeth flashed. She was grinning. The thugs obviously didn’t remember her face.

No need to worry. Everything was under control.

She didn’t need a damned knight in shining armor.

Now
that
was sexy.

This distraction of hers would get him outside, away from the thugs, and to the car. He assumed she’d make an excuse and follow him out in a minute.

A half a dozen steps took him out the door and into the sunlight. He turned the corner and headed toward back of the diner, making sure the men couldn’t see him through the window before he let out a breath that he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He was still standing there when Glory walked out of the diner thirty seconds later.

She was wearing the wet pink shirt and a smile. She tossed her dark curls back over one shoulder. Water droplets glistened in the air.

“They think I’m going to get something to change into from the car. But we still should get out of Dodge before they follow me out.” A tense laugh. “Trying to get a free peep show.”

“Uh-huh.” Luke had a sudden desire to kiss her—to press her back against the wall of the diner and claim her lips with his, taste her—but Glory was already taking off, headed to the car. He had to break into a jog to catch up with Glory before she got to the Vanquish.

She unlocked the car and climbed into the passenger’s seat, then handed over the car keys. He opened the door, got in, and started up the engine, noticing how Glory sat beside him, head held high, chin stuck out determinedly. She looked so damn cute in her wet blouse. Like a kitten who’d fallen into a puddle. Slightly soggy and a little confused but still as cuddly as hell.

He wanted to tell her she was wrong. She wasn’t the good sister, no matter what the people in her hometown might say.

She was the sexy one.

The girl who made him lose his mind.

Although this wasn’t the time to tell her how wrong she was.

Not with Tiffanette’s henchmen pouring out of the diner, tromping around out back. looking for the sexy waitress who’d been unfortunate enough to lose her shirt. Four men in matching black T-shirts and dark cargo pants. The man on the left was the first to spot Luke in the coupe’s low-slung front seat. By the time he had his gun in his hands, one of his friends was already pulling out his cell phone and waving it about.

The cell phone couldn’t do any damage, but that damned gun sure could.

Damn. Luke’s jaw tightened as he shoved the Vanquish into first. There had been a lot of men with Tiffanette at the poker game. More than a single car full, all with guns and cell phones to reconnoiter.

Crack
.

The thunder of a gunshot. Wild. The men were shooting on the run, racing for their boxy black SUV.

Figuring out why they were after him was important, but first Luke needed to escape. He needed to buy them some time. The black SUV was just sitting there like a big black scar on the horizon. No, that was wrong—it
was
the damn horizon.

He smiled as a plan came to mind.

Another shot, close enough to hit the Aston Martin’s window before burying itself somewhere in the car. What the hell? Either the guy with the gun was a terrible shot, or they weren’t trying to shoot out the tires any longer. What the hell did that mean?

He depressed the clutch, shifted into reverse, and stomped on the gas.

The wheels spun wildly. One quick breath, then another. And a yank on the wheel. The car swung around in one smooth motion, crashing violently into the large black SUV.

“Damn it!” Glory shrieked. “What the hell are you doing? Are you legally blind?”

“You’re welcome.”

“Excuse me?”

“I assumed that was your way of thanking me for saving your life. Again. It’s starting to be a habit.” Luke shifted into first gear. He put a foot on the gas, making the wheels spin. The car stalled. He tried a second time. The thugs were running now. Ten seconds away.

Nine seconds.

He took a deep breath. When he was sure that one foot was on the clutch and the other was solidly on the brake, he turned the key in the ignition. Praying every second. The car was annoying. Sure, it looked good. Sleek, sexy, and powerful, but the last time he’d driven it to a party the damn thing had broken down less than a block from the valet stand.

A smart man would have bought a new vehicle years earlier, but Luke couldn’t bear to look at new cars. The Vanquish was wild, reckless—everything he’d wanted to be when he was young. Everything he’d never let himself be.

When it finally roared to life, he let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. Apparently Aston Martins could take more of a beating then he’d thought. The SUV was bigger, bulkier, but it was built like a tin can. Pulling away from the parking lot, Luke could see that the SUV’s rear bumper had been crumpled. Crushed, really. The Vanquish was still running, but the gas-guzzling behemoth wouldn’t be so lucky.

The thugs weren’t going anywhere soon.

The steering wheel seemed to be quivering. Odd. He looked down and noticed that his hands were shaking. His entire body felt numb, except for the pain radiating from his left arm. Adrenaline? Or had some of the window glass cut him when it fell into the car? It didn’t matter.

“Hurry!” Glory shrieked.

“Put on your seat belt,” he ordered.

She clicked her seat belt and he put his foot to floor, opening up the throttle as he shifted into a higher gear and peeled out of the diner parking lot. A spray of dirt and gravel threw up a cloud of dirt behind them as they drove away, but he kept a sharp lookout in the rearview mirror. No black SUV.

Three miles later, after multiple turns, dodges down side streets and alleys, and a couple of backtracks, he knew they were safe. He’d disabled the thugs’ car for good.

He hit the main road and relaxed his grip on the steering wheel. “We’re okay now.”

Silence met his statement.

He looked over to notice Glory shaking, her arms wrapped around her waist, tight, and a blue tinge to her lips. The car’s air-conditioning had finally kicked in. She had to be freezing. No wonder—she’d doused herself with ice water.

He opened the windows, letting a burst of warmth into the car.

That stopped the shivering, but Glory was still crouched on her side of the car, mouth half open. Tears pooling at the corners of her eyes.

Wait, this wasn’t just cold. It was shock.

Luke straightened in his seat. Whatever was going on between him and Tiffanette, Glory didn’t deserve to be part of it. She was something shiny and bright. He’d do whatever it took to make sure she was never scared again. Even if that meant tracking down Tiffanette and each of her men personally.

Maybe it was time he reevaluated his plan. Tiffanette’s men showing up at the diner had been random—those men hadn’t expected to see Glory and Luke there—but the fact that they were in Tulsa meant that somehow, whoever was running the operation knew where to look.

So how had the mastermind figured out their trail?

He leaned down, the action making his hurt arm scream, and grabbed his jacket from where it lay discarded underneath his seat. The designer fabric was crumpled, wrinkled. It might not survive the journey, but it was still warm. He forced it into her hands.

“Put that on before you freeze to death.”

She sniffed. “It was just a little water. I’m not some kind of delicate flower who’s going to freeze to death because of a little water.”

They both knew she wasn’t just shaking because she’d been doused in water. The water had been cold. It had been wet. It was probably staining his leather seats while they talked.

It was getting shot at for the billionth time that had her quaking like an aspen in autumn.

“Think there’s some sort of tracking device on the car?” he asked.

She shook her head and draped the jacket over her knee, straightening the collar with a flick of her wrist. “Nah, I thought about it back in the diner, but I don’t see how. Tiffanette’s smart, but she’s not psychic. There’s no way she could have predicted you’d escape. So she wouldn’t have bothered to put a tracking device on your car before kidnapping you.”

“I guess you’re right. Every time the bad guys have been close to us, we’ve been in motion, so they couldn’t have sneaked something into the car after we left the poker game.” Tension was making his head pound and his body stiffen. “They don’t seem to know where we are. Just our general direction. So we’re not being tracked with technology.”

He cast a quick glance at her. Long fingers ran across the jacket to remove an invisible speck of dust before lifting to the open collar of her shirt. Her nails were clipped short. She’d painted them some time earlier, and there were still traces of red on the edges.

Most of the women Luke dated had manicured fingers, long claws that they used to dig into his back. Her peeling polish was damn sexy.

“That means someone’s feeding the mastermind information,” he said. “But who? And how are they getting it?”

“If this were a spy movie, someone would have bribed a government official to track the Vanquish. Super-secret technology. Satellites.” Her fingers kept working on her top.

“How often do those things orbit Earth? Once a day?”

She shrugged. One more moment and the buttons that had been valiantly attempting to protect her dignity were open. Smooth creamy skin and a cotton bra.

The worn fabric was pale. Once it might have been a rich burnished gold or bright pink, but now it was faded to an uneven cream. The only splash of color left was the stain on the right breast. A deep scarlet color that formed a single heart.

Luke’s throat went dry. He swallowed, hard, trying to keep his eyes on the road. Trying to concentrate on anything other than Glory’s perky breasts. They’d fit just right in his hands. He’d give anything to be able to touch them, to tear off that bra and have them untethered in his hands. He wanted to feel her nipple tense and pucker under the rough pad of his thumb. More than that, he wanted to run his hands down her trim waist to pull her tight against him while he kissed her. His mouth moving from her lips, down the edge of her neck, to tease at her breasts until she let out a happy moan.

His head pounded harder. A ragged breath pulled in over his lips.

Glory didn’t seem to notice the effect her nearly naked body was having on Luke’s sanity. She pulled off the wet shirt, dropping it onto the floor by her feet, and slipped on his jacket. The jacket was lightweight. Designed to be worn in the heat of Las Vegas, it was a nice blend of wool and linen.

She tugged the jacket closed across her chest. A soft sigh. She relaxed back into her seat. “They’re not going to stop coming after us, are they?”

“It doesn’t look that way.” The goons had followed them across state lines. They were organized and armed to the teeth. The person pulling their strings was determined and seriously dangerous. More important, he must have figured out some way to track them.

Disabling the SUV had bought them time, but they wouldn’t be safe for long.

She sighed. “Do you have a plan, Luke? Or are you just going to stare at my chest all day?”

“I didn’t know that was an option.” He’d love to keep looking at her chest all day, but there were more important things to do. He quickly turned his attention back to the road. There was a sign for an upcoming gas station. Luke slowed the car, turning off the highway to pull into the parking lot.

He was hungry. His arm hurt. He probably needed a Band-Aid.

But first, he needed to figure out who the hell was after them. And he needed to protect Glory.