Leaving Las Vegas (Entangled Ignite) (2 page)

What had he been thinking? Forcing her to go all in by betting his car? He’d lost his virginity in that car, talking his high-school girlfriend out of her cheerleading uniform. It had taken him longer to remove her bra than do the deed. It had been hot, sticky, and awkward. Luckily, things had improved since then. As an adult, he had no trouble satisfying women, and in a real bed instead of a cramped car. Besides, these days most of his girlfriends didn’t stick around long enough to get a ride in the Aston Martin.

He loved his car, but most of the time it was just easier to take his chauffeur-driven limo. Still, the Vanquish was one part of his life where he could be more than a boring businessman in an Armani suit.

Logic said he should keep the pair of queens.
Instinct
told him he should keep the pair. But even that hand might not be enough to save his car. Sure, Luke believed in logic. And instinct had helped make him into the man he was today. But there was something more powerful churning around in his mind. Something he’d learned about at his father’s knee.

Luck.

Logic was how you kept a fortune, but luck was how you made it, his father had always said.

A small fortune sat on the table. More money than most poker players could hope to win in a lifetime. And yet all Luke cared about was the small metal key to the Vanquish.

He put the queen of hearts down. Everyone watched him, trying to figure out his next move, but he watched Glory. Watched her fingers skim the top of the card deck before moving down. She peeled the card off the bottom of the deck and dealt it to him with one easy motion.

Wait. She’d just dealt from the bottom of the deck. What the hell was she doing? If Grant saw her—hell. Luke didn’t know what the other man might do, and he had no intention of finding out.

Luckily, he’d been the only one looking in her direction when she cheated.

There was a slight pause, then all eyes turned in her direction, daring her to try something. The woman blinked twice, long lashes fluttering against her pale skin. Her motions were smooth. She dealt herself the top card from the deck. Good girl.

He picked up his new card. A joker.

Huh
.

He’d pulled the straight flush. The only way Glory could beat him was if she had a royal flush, and Luke had never seen one of those.

It. Did. Not. Happen. In. Five. Card. Draw.

She’d deliberately pulled the joker from the bottom of the deck and given it to him. But why? He could accuse her now of cheating, but then he’d never figure out what she was doing. He waited. Patiently. Wanting to see how the game played out. Needing to catch her when she made her play for the pot.

No point in bothering with a second round of betting. Grant put his hand down first, turning over a full house, kings high. A good hand. Luke knew why the other man had been so confident.

But Luke had the higher hand. Only a royal flush could beat him. He laid his hand out on the table one card at a time. When they were all down, he turned to Glory. She couldn’t possibly have been dumb enough to deal herself a royal flush.

Glory shook her head and threw her cards down, the action surprisingly frustrated for a woman who’d just won everything.

She hadn’t, he realized when she placed her last card. She hadn’t won. His hand beat hers. She might have gone into the last hand ready to face off with the world, but once she’d started passing out the draw cards, she’d realized there was no way she could deal the joker to herself without getting shot for cheating. She’d cheated, but only to give him the win over Grant.

Hell. She’d given him the win on purpose.

That was so damn sexy.

“Well, boys, this has been interesting.” Tiffanette stood up, her teeth bared in a hungry grin. As though she was the one sitting in front of a pile of cash, not him. “Mighty interesting.”

The showgirl reached into her pocket and pulled out a gun.

A nine-millimeter pistol with a short barrel, capable of taking out a rhinoceros.

Or a wall.

Oh, shit. Now
this
was a problem.

“You all know how this works.” Tiffanette raised the gun. Her voice was hard. Flinty. “Luke. Hand over the money.”

Chapter Two

Blood rushed from Luke’s head. His entire life he’d been careful. Always going out with a bodyguard. Never drawing too much attention from the paparazzi—the same bloodsuckers who’d turned his father from Las Vegas’s most famous playboy into a moving target.

This was it. He was going to be shot in the head for a pile of cash, just like his father.

Well, hell.

No. He shook off the fear brought on by the sight of the gun. After his father’s death, he’d steeled himself for this moment. Now that it was here, he found it completely absurd. He was Luke Morrison. Nobody messed with him.

“You don’t want to do this, Tiffanette.” The relaxed poker player was gone, replaced by the billionaire casino magnate. The man thousands of people obeyed. “Put the gun down.”

“I don’t think so,” Tiffanette snapped out.

Luke glanced across the table, checking to make sure Glory was all right. The woman was frozen in place, eyes wide, like a gazelle that had suddenly wandered into a cheetah’s kitchen.

Chester squeaked, catching Luke’s attention. God. His stepfather looked like he was going to pee his pants.

Grant and Bone just chuckled. They probably found Tiffanette’s pitiful attempt at a holdup funny. Not Luke. He knew how big a hole a gunshot could leave in a person’s body. How much blood could puddle up on the floor. He’d been the one to find his father’s body.

Tiffanette swung the gun up, firing a wild shot into the ceiling. Plaster cracked, falling to the ground in a cloud of white dust. Just like in the movies.
Hmm.
Luke hadn’t known plaster would really do that.

Bone and Grant swallowed their laughter.

“You missed,” Luke commented. The entire room seemed a little smaller than it had a few minutes earlier. And a whole lot darker. Luke leaned backward in his chair. “Put the gun down.”

There was no mob in Las Vegas, not anymore. But that didn’t stop men who claimed to be connected from trying to intimidate Luke every once in a while. They wanted bribes, graft, or the ability to launder money through his casinos. He’d found that what stopped people from asking again was the strength in his voice when he said no.

Apparently, his voice wasn’t strong enough for Tiffanette.

“Don’t be self-centered, Luke. I wasn’t aiming at you.”

Luke concentrated on Tiffanette, suddenly aware of just how many other people were in the hotel room. Grant, Bone, Chester. The two waitresses in their scanty uniforms.

Glory.

He forced himself not to glance in her direction, anything to keep from drawing Tiffanette’s attention toward her. He flicked plaster dust off the edge of his jacket. “Unless you were aiming at the plaster, I find it hard to believe you hit what you wanted—”

Crack.

Bang.

The motel room’s door burst open, splintering in every direction. Big men dressed in black clothes and body armor flooded the room. Each man was holding a gun.

Holy shit
—had Tiffanette hired muscle?

A spray of bullets made a distinct pattern on the wall, a foot below the ceiling. A warning.

“Everybody down!” Luke shouted. All around him, people dropped to the ground, flattening themselves against the floor. He waited a beat to make sure everyone was safe before joining them on the floor.

“Damn!” Glory swore loudly.

Luke swung his attention to her. So did the bad guys.

Guns shifted, pointing in her direction.

“Don’t shoot!” she shrieked and lunged backward, pulling the card table over with her. Money flew everywhere then fluttered down. Hundred-dollar-bill snowflakes littered the ground. Luke wasn’t paying attention to the money—Glory needed help.

The girl was a cheater, but she was also out of her element.

A shot went off.
Oh, hell.
Bone had managed to get his gun out of his holster. He got off two more shots before the thugs pinpointed the danger. Bullets started flying—this time lower than the ceiling. Flat against the ground, Luke belly-crawled to the upended table. He couldn’t spot Glory, but Grant had taken cover behind the bureau and Chester lay curled up in the corner, his arms tucked around his legs.

It wasn’t exactly a courageous motion, but at least his stepfather wasn’t running around like a chicken with its head cut off.

Unlike Glory.

Apparently, she hadn’t wanted rescuing.

The pretty brunette had abandoned her hiding place. Now, instead of keeping herself safe, she was racing around, grabbing money and stuffing in her oversized purse. Completely ignoring the gunslingers duking it out on the other side of the table. Did she
want
to get herself shot?

“Glory!” he shouted. He stood upright, blocking her with his body.
Damn
. Now they’d shoot him, too.

“Stop right there,” Tiffanette snapped. Two quick strides across the motel room, and the showgirl was standing beside Glory. The two women were around the same height and—except for Tiffanette’s enhanced attributes—of a similar build.

That was where the similarities ended.

“Give me the money,” Tiffanette ordered.

“No, I—”

Tiffanette waved the gun.

“I need this money.” The desperation in Glory’s voice was palpable, a physical force in the small motel room. “My family—my town—you have no idea what this money means to them. I’m not here for me.”

For the first time all night, Glory was being completely, entirely honest, Luke realized. But honesty wouldn’t prevent Tiffanette from shooting her in the gut. He’d clearly misjudged Tiffanette. Forget bimbo, the woman was a python. A snake in the grass, patiently waiting to strike. A clever villain capable of orchestrating a major holdup.

“Easy.” He held up both hands, drawing Tiffanette’s attention away from Glory. “Let’s not be too irrational.”

The only sound in the room was Chester’s whimpering in the corner.

He fixed a calm, unwavering smile on his face. “Glory, I don’t care what kind of small-town hellhole you pulled yourself out of. The important part is that you get back there. Now put the damn money down.”

“It’s not just money,” Glory said in a tight voice.

Of all the stubborn, pigheaded— Luke forced himself to take a breath. The woman was clearly irrational. If she didn’t let up her grip on the purse, then she really would be dead.

“Here.” He reached down, searching among the rubble until his hand connected with his keys. He scooped them up and straightened.. “Take my car instead. You know how much it’s worth.”

“It’s not enough.”

“At least you’re not going home empty-handed.” He held out the keys. Damn, did he ever love that car, but it wasn’t worth a woman’s life. Not a woman like Glory. Determined—no matter what happened—to have her way in the world. There was plaster dust in her hair and a slight nick on her cheek where she’d been cut by flying debris. Even while it was shaking, the curve of her lip was soft, seductive.

He turned and faced the showgirl. “Tiffanette will let you go.”

“How very noble,” Tiffanette sniffed. She took a few seconds to consider, drawing out the drama of the moment. “The car’s worth more than two hundred grand. That’s already been established. You want me to give it up? I’m going to need something more. Something extra.” Cocking her head to the side, she surveyed him from top to bottom and back again before concentrating her gaze somewhere in the middle.

Luke suddenly felt the dire need for a codpiece.

“You’re one of the wealthiest men in Las Vegas, Luke.” A statement.

“Not true. Not true at all.” He could think of at least five men who were wealthier. Hell, even his cowering-in-the-corner stepfather was more liquid. All of Luke’s money was tied up in developments.

It didn’t matter. Tiffanette’s gun was loaded. Her face a study in determination. Pointing out simple truths would be hazardous to his health.

She wanted money. Fine. She’d take him captive. They’d stop at the nearest ATM, and he’d reach his daily withdrawal limit. If she was smart about it, she might even call his security team. They had standing orders to pay off any ransom demands.

After receiving proof of life, of course.

He didn’t suppose Glory had the same arrangements in place.

“All right,” Luke said. “You let Glory go with the car and you can have me
and
the money.”

A nod from the showgirl. “That car is like a beacon for the cops. She might as well take it.”

Luke’s gaze never left Glory. “Give her the money.”

“No, I can’t.” Glory’s voice wavered, suddenly unsure. “Even if I do, why would she let me go?”

“Hell.” Panic had made her sapphire eyes gleam and her cheeks turn pink. He extended one hand, reaching out to smooth a lock of hair. It was the only time they’d touched all night, and the reaction was electric. Sparks flew over his skin. “Do you trust me?”

“I don’t trust anyone who wasn’t born within twenty miles of my hometown—except my cousin Julie. Her fool mother was on vacation when she went into labor.”

“Right.” Luke’s head throbbed. “This isn’t whatever hick town you came from.” He kept his voice low, calm. “We’re in Las Vegas, Nevada.
My
city. When I arrange a deal, both sides are kept.”

For one long, treacherous moment, Luke actually thought Glory was going to turn down the deal. Again.

Then her fingers loosened around the top of her purse. She nodded slowly. “Fine.” Keeping her gaze locked with his, she tipped her head in Tiffanette’s direction. “You can have the money and the guy. I’ll take the car and my freedom.” She dropped the bag on the ground, then grabbed the keys from Luke’s hand.

The scent of vanilla hung in the air as she brushed past him, headed to the door.

The entire room held their breath, waiting for her to leave. Thugs, Grant…even Chester seemed to realize the seriousness of the situation and stopped his whining. Bone laid his gun flat on the ground, recognizing a moment’s truce. Glory stopped at the entrance, slipping the keys into the back pocket of her skin-tight shorts before opening the door and stepping out into the gray Las Vegas night.

At the last instant, her body stilled. She cocked her head to the side.
Damn
. The woman thought she had a plan. Luke just hoped it didn’t get anyone killed.

She slammed the door. Loudly.

The action shook the paper-thin walls of the motel room. The heavy table rocked dangerously on edge, once, twice, swaying back and forth like a drunken sailor before falling back onto its legs.

Guns swung up in every direction. Men started shooting. There was a brief scream and then more quiet.

The gunfight was over. Tiffanette had won.

The showgirl stood in the middle of the room, calmly reloading her pistol while Bone sat quietly in the corner, without his gun, looking for all the world like a schoolboy who’d had his favorite toy taken away—except for the bloodstain that was quickly turning his shirt a lurid shade of red.

Unbelievable.

Tiffanette had shot Bone. At least once. Maybe twice, if the amount of blood pooling on the floor was any indication. The guy was still alive, but he’d need to see a doctor before sepsis set in.

This changed everything. A gun was a deadly weapon. Anytime a deadly weapon was used, then it meant attempted felony murder, right? Luke should have paid better attention during his criminal law classes, but honestly, he never thought he’d actually need to know any of that stuff. Corporate and securities law. Business law. That’s what his focus had been. Classes designed to help him take the millions he’d inherited from his father and turn it into billions.

Wiping gunpowder and plaster dust off his pants, Luke calmly stated, “He needs to go to the hospital.” Bone wasn’t a friend, but he was a longtime acquaintance and a damn good poker player.

“The police will be here any minute,” Tiffanette said. “They’ll bring an ambulance.”

“Good. You did the right thing letting Glory go. When the cops get here, I’ll tell them you weren’t trying to kill us.”

“No.”

“You can still get out of this,” he bluffed, a born gambler putting his chips down on black and hoping like hell that Lady Luck was watching out for him.

“We had a deal, Luke. When you make a deal, both sides are kept.” She slammed the purse full of money against Luke’s chest. “I’ve got what I came here for—you and the money.”

Luke clenched his jaw, tight, realization dawning.
Holy hell.
Tiffanette had been intending to kidnap him all along. It made sense. There was a lot of money in the bag, but not enough to risk bringing down the FBI—or even the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department. Kidnapping Luke was something else entirely.

He’d always been so careful to keep a low profile. Never throwing his money around. Never appearing to live too fast or too rich. He’d thought his pattern had been a success. Three weeks earlier he’d celebrated his thirty-first birthday. He was three years older than his father had been when he died.

All those years spent making the safe choice, and now this?
Damn
.

He ground his teeth together, then said, “You’ll be kidnapping me now?”