Leaving Las Vegas (Entangled Ignite) (11 page)

Chapter Eleven

The gas station was old, a concrete block built in the fifties, a piece of Cold War infrastructure with neon lights in the window. There was a battered trailer parked out back, probably living quarters for an employee who didn’t want to commute every day. Stopping meant that they’d lose valuable time, but Luke had insisted that they needed gas and food and a packet of Band-Aids. At least, that’s what he’d said.

He’d asked her to fill the tank as he made what sounded like a rather testy phone call. From what she could tell, he wasn’t getting any information on the identity of the mastermind, even when he used his
I’m-in-control-and-don’t-you-ever-doubt-it
tone.

Clearly he’d been wrong earlier when he’d said that information could always be bought for the right price. Real intelligence-gathering depended on relationships. Back in Beaux, all it would take to get the low-down on some dirty, rotten no-good thug—or the kid who’d stolen a freshly baked pie off her windowsill—would be a call to Cara May. The older woman would take it from there, lighting up a phone tree that covered the entire mountain until she found out who’d done the deed.

As Glory leaned against the back of the Vanquish, her hand on the gas pump as it sloshed cheap gasoline into the tank, she bobbed her head up and down in time to music coming from hidden speakers. A country and western song about a woman in love with a handsome man who’d done her wrong. She didn’t recognize the song, but she liked the fiddle that soared above the chorus.

Any time more than five people got together in Beaux someone insisted in pulling out a fiddle. Some of them were better than others. The sheriff was pretty damn good. He could set everyone’s blood racing and their feet tapping. Real mountain step-dancing.

They were so damn close to Beaux. With Luke behind the wheel, they could make it back home in less than eighteen hours, even if they took back roads and stayed well off the highway.

She’d be home. Safe.

She should be happy, but suddenly she couldn’t imagine the journey ending.

In another day, her life would no longer be in danger. Luke would be gone, riding off into the sunset in a private jet with an attentive stewardess. It shouldn’t bother her, but—

Realization hit her like a ton of bricks.

Luke wasn’t perfect—he was a coldhearted developer who was allergic to small towns—but he was tall, dark, and breathtakingly sexy. Broad shoulders and a cardsharp’s hands. A real-life Prince Charming, he’d saved her life three times now.

She wanted him, more than she’d ever wanted any other man before, and for the next day he could be hers. A red-hot fling until they went their separate ways—just long enough to get him out of her system.

All she had to do was ask him for a kiss.

The driver’s-side window rolled down. “Did you get premium?”

“Of course not.” There was no way she was paying for premium gas. It was almost a dollar more per gallon, and the nifty little sports car sucked down gas like her cousins drank moonshine on the Fourth of July. The regular stuff was good enough for her ancient, beat-up, holes-in-the-floorboard cruddy Toyota Corolla. It was good enough for the James Bond car.

She glanced at Luke. His face was pale. His skin slack. Now that was odd. “You’re not looking so good.”

“I’m fine.” He grinned. Color sprang back into his cheeks.

Well then, if he was fine, she was going to go for it. Put some of Hallie’s lessons to use. Seduce the heck out of the man. Her heart flipped around in her chest. She hadn’t been this nervous since the first time she’d bailed Hallie out of jail.

Closing her eyes, she leaned against the hood of the Vanquish. The dark metal was hot, burning. She arched her back to avoid burning the bare skin when the jacket bunched up above her shorts. Luke took a sudden intake of breath, and she bit back a laugh. The seduction was off to a great start.

Reaching up to pull her hair into a loose ponytail, she let the borrowed jacket fall open, a small inch, and then a foot.

Wrapping an elastic band around her ponytail, she considered the next move in her impromptu striptease. A sound startled her, and she opened her eyes to see Luke standing beside her, pretending not to watch her out of the corner of his eyes.

“Luke?” She was salivating for him now, eager to run her hands through his dark hair, mussing his straight part. She wanted to tear off the once-white shirt that clung to his broad shoulders. This was it, her chance to channel her inner wild child.

He was just so damn perfect. The only signs that he hadn’t started out the morning in some perfect penthouse apartment were the day’s worth of scruff on his cheeks and the large, dark stain on his shirt’s left arm. A reddish-brown color. Probably ketchup from the diner.

Only, there hadn’t been any ketchup at their table. Otherwise, Glory would have dumped it on her eggs. There hadn’t been any hot sauce either.

She took a deep breath, sucking in dank muggy air overpowered by the sharp, coppery scent of blood.

Luke’s blood.

Hell’s bells.
Had he been shot?

“Give me your hand.” Glory straightened, leaning forward slightly. Luke’s eyes widened, he was staring straight ahead. Straight at her. His jaw dropped open. Glory glanced down. Her borrowed jacket had slipped open. Great. Just great. Here she was worrying about his health, and he was getting all glassy-eyed over her boobs. It was nice to be appreciated, but some things were more important than animal lust.

“Come here.” She grabbed his arm, jerking him closer to her.

“Ow.” Luke’s brow furrowed. “That hurt.”

“I figured.” She didn’t bother waiting for permission. She tucked his wrist under her elbow and unbuttoned his cuff, rolling his sleeve up. One neat turn after another. Just far enough to reveal a long track of blood.

Oh, God.

She bit her lip. “You’ve been shot.”

“It doesn’t hurt that much. I need a Band-Aid, that’s all.”

The man was too damn stubborn for his own good.

“You know,” she continued, “I take a free first aid class down at the fire station every year. I know exactly what to do in this situation.”

“What’s that?”

“Call 911.”

“We can’t.” Luke’s voice was tense, sharp. “This is a gunshot wound. We call 911 now, and we’ll be stuck cooling our heels in this backwater for a week. Sitting ducks for Tiffanette and her friends.”

“It’s the right thing to do.” With his sleeve rolled up and the wound exposed, the taste of copper was now thick in the air. Blood made his skin sticky to touch.
Blood
. She squeezed her eyes shut reflexively, blocking out the sight. That probably wasn’t the most effective way to inspect his wound. She forced her eyes open and took a deep breath. Through the mouth. “I should have paid more attention in first aid class.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

Luke didn’t need her gibbering at the sight of blood. He needed her to be helpful. She used the tail of his shirt to gingerly wipe the blood away from the gory—well, not so gory, now that she noticed. It was a graze, didn’t even have an entrance and exit hole, and there was no bullet buried under his skin.

It still had to hurt like hell.

“I guess we’re okay,” she said. “You’ll probably have a scar, but there’s no major damage. A little hydrogen peroxide will help.”

“Have you ever been shot?”

“I shot a man once,” she admitted, still distracted by Luke’s wound. “Mr. Ryan, my eleventh-grade civics teacher. He failed me on the midterm—which maybe I deserved.”

His eyes were wide. His bare chest heaved noticeably with every breath. “So you shot him? That’s not very
civic-minded
of you.”

“It was an accident.” She rolled her eyes. “I was looking at my cousin Benji’s new paintball gun. I didn’t even know Mr. Ryan was there. I was aiming at a tree. The paintballs were bright red. They stained something awful.”

“Remind me not to get between you and an evergreen.”

“My aim’s gotten better since then.” She bent slightly, using the edge of her borrowed jacket to clean off the edge of Luke’s wound. “Mr. Ryan still complains about the pain in his ass every time he comes into the diner for breakfast.” A deep breath. “We’ll find someplace to clean up. A quick shower, a fresh shirt, and you’ll be good as new.”

A car pulled down the road. A boxy sedan with oversized fog lights and a cage across the front like an ugly dark maw, ready to swallow Glory whole. She didn’t need to see the emblems on the side or the light bar on top to know what it was. A police car. State, local, or federal. It didn’t matter.

Her gut tightened. She sucked in a breath, hoping and praying that the car would keep on moving. Luke was right—they couldn’t report the gunshot. Whoever was in control of Tiffanette’s scheme was hooked up—tracking Luke’s cell phone the previous morning, finding them in freaking
Oklahoma
. That took serious skill, or access to someone else with serious skill. Like a cop. One bleep on the police radar, and the information would get to the goons. And Glory and Luke would be…well, probably shot.

Which meant the cop couldn’t see Luke’s wound. If he saw the bullet track on Luke’s arm, then he’d start asking difficult questions. He’d take them down to the police station and put something out on the radio. Tiffanette would find them. Next time, her thugs might actually hit what they were aiming for.

Luke was completely oblivious to the danger slowing down on the road, turning into the lot, and parking.

“Luke,” she murmured slowly, “get your fine ass over here.”

His head whipped up fast, as if he’d been slapped. Maybe he’d never been told how nice his butt was. Pity. He had the kind of behind that a girl could sink her teeth into. A short laugh bubbled out of her throat. The policeman had turned off the engine and was now out of his car. Less than thirty feet away, closing fast. Damn it. She had to do something. Now.

She needed to give the cop a reason to look away. Her tongue darted out, moistening her lips so she could say the two little words he’d been waiting to hear since their first night together. The words she’d been desperate to say since she’d decided she wanted to feel his body sliding naked against hers, to pull him even closer, and to hear him gasp as he came inside her. “Kiss me.”

He didn’t wait for her to ask twice. He bent down, impulsively, pushing her back against the car’s hood, and kissed her on the mouth. His lips were cool. His tongue was warm. He knew what he was doing.

The kiss hit her like lightning, making her body jerk and dance against his. All she could see was the scruffy beginnings of a beard and eyes that lust had deepened to forest green. All she could hear was the blood rushing in her ears. All she could feel was his hand reaching down to spread her legs. Long fingers moved up her leg, making her suck in a breath, before coming to rest possessively on her upper thigh.

His free hand curled underneath her body, smoothing out the jacket so her skin wouldn’t burn when he pushed her down against the hood of the car. His mouth moved down across her neck, and she was left gasping for air. A soft fluttering kiss on her collarbone, and his lips were on the top of her breasts. His tongue traced the crease where her white bra met her skin.

“Oh, God.” A soft moan escaped her lips before she knew what was going on. It had been so long since she’d had sex; she’d been considering giving it all up and taking holy orders. Not anymore. She lifted her feet off the ground, wrapped her legs around Luke’s waist, pulling him in tight against her. Four layers of fabric between them, and she could feel him throbbing, hard against her.

For all her wild behavior, sex in public had never been her fantasy. The closest she’d ever gotten was a make-out session in a thin tent her last year at sleep-away camp. Even then, she’d kept all her clothes on while wriggling all the way into her date’s sleeping bag. With Luke’s mouth on her, she was willing to forget all about her tender sensibilities and focus on the thing she really wanted.

Sex. Mind-blowing, toe-curling sex. The thought of it made her heart beat faster and the muscles in her belly tighten. Her hips bucked, trying to get closer to him. Nothing happened. She opened her eyes to see the police officer’s patent leather shoes scrape against the asphalt on his way past.

Luke’s gaze moved to one side, tracking the officer’s steps. There was a moment’s pause. “No more, sweetheart, not unless you want to get arrested for public indecency,” he said under his breath.

“I just wanted to—”

“Borrow his handcuffs?” He grinned.

When the cop finally entered the convenience store, Glory let out a breath that she hadn’t known she’d been holding. Her entire body relaxed. She leaned back against the hood of the car, staring upward. The sky was a deep cornflower blue. Fluffy white clouds hung overhead, so close she could almost touch them. Luke’s mouth dipped down against her breasts, and she shuddered wildly.

Having sex in public had
never
been one of her fantasies.

Now it was.

Hot lips skimmed across tender skin. Luke’s actions were passionate, hungry, but he was favoring his left arm. He was still hurt.

“We need to go.” She put her feet down on the ground and tried to lever herself upward. It wasn’t possible. Not with a hand on either side of her waist, pushing her hips down against the car.

“Luke—” She almost stopped breathing. Her bra had finally given up any attempt at modesty. Her right breast was completely exposed. Luke’s lips teased her nipple. Glory trembled. Every breath Luke took had air moving across her skin, making her tingle in places that she hadn’t thought about in months. She darted her gaze to the side, checking to make sure no one was looking.

Then he began to make his way up her body again, his supple fingers trailing up her belly. She couldn’t think. More importantly, she didn’t want to. All she wanted was for him to keep touching her, bringing her closer to the precipice of pleasure before launching her off the side. When she was eleven years old, she’d jumped off the roof of Dandelion House, trying to fly. The sensation had been incredible. The landing had been even better, the cool water of Black Lake swallowing her whole. She’d jumped more than a dozen times that summer, trying to re-create the rush. His mouth made her feel the same way.