Leaving Las Vegas (Entangled Ignite) (9 page)

Chapter Nine

They’d spent the night in a motel outside Tulsa, Oklahoma, arriving well after midnight. Too late to get fresh clothes or care that their old ones were dirty. Paying with cash—instead of Luke’s credit cards—had raised a few eyebrows at the front desk, but at least no one would be able to find them by tracing Luke’s credit activity. They hadn’t seen any trailing vehicles since the morning, but Luke tucked the Vanquish away carefully behind two big rigs in the back. Out of sight, out of mind.

The room wasn’t much, but at least it was clean.

And the shared king-sized bed was a whole lot bigger than the front seat of the Vanquish.

Certainly big enough for two reasonable adults to share without any trouble. At least, that’s what Glory had thought before climbing under the covers. All night long, she could feel every breath Luke took. Each time he shifted on the mattress, she woke up tense. Certain that this would be it. The moment. The instant in time when he reached across the expanse of white linens and pulled her close. His mouth finding hers. His hands running up underneath her shirt to trace patterns on her skin.

Instead, he’d been a perfect gentleman.

Jerk.

Luke had woken up starving. Apparently a grown man used to working out in the gym five times a week needed real food. He’d gotten directions from the man behind the counter to a diner five minutes down the road, parking in the employee lot behind the old brick building with its red-and-white-striped curtains. She didn’t want to waste time on a sit-down breakfast, but Luke insisted that the place was perfect. The Vanquish was invisible from the road, no one knew her cell number, and they’d taken back roads and side streets for so long not even NASA could find them.

Now her legs were tucked into a back booth, awkwardly arranged around the bag of cash at her feet. Her stomach was rumbling, hungry, but all she could do was stare out the window. Desperate for any view that didn’t include Luke’s rugged jaw and warm smile. After the kiss they’d shared back at the Grand Canyon, she’d been sure the man was attracted to her. Clearly she’d been wrong.

Why the hell hadn’t he tried anything back at the hotel room? Not even a damn brush of his hand across her chest on “accident.”

“You get anywhere with those calls last night?” Her phone had juice now. They’d finally found a place to buy a charger the day before. As soon as it was plugged in and running, Luke had started making phone calls, talking to half of creation trying to figure out who’d been asking after him, paying a little too much attention to his goings-on. When she’d woken up the last time—exhausted from a night of broken slumber—he’d been on the phone again, speaking with a hushed tone so she couldn’t even tell who he was talking to. Let alone what was being said.

He shook his head. “No leads yet.”

Great
. All that work and he still didn’t have a clue who’d orchestrated Tiffanette’s little adventure.

Or if Glory was still in danger.

“Your ‘friends’ not very forthcoming?” she asked.

“My ‘friends’ are none of your business. The less you know, the better.”

Fine. Luke didn’t trust her with helping get out of this mess, and he didn’t want to jump her bones. Why were they still driving around the country together? She crossed her arms and glared out the window.

“You’re not hungry?”

“What?” She glanced up. Stared across the cramped diner table at Luke. “Of course I’m hungry.”

“You’re not eating. Is there something wrong with your eggs?”

Oh, yeah. There were eggs sitting in front of her. She looked down. They were rich and creamy, swimming in butter. They quivered on top of wheat toast beside two crispy pieces of bacon that glistened in the early-morning light streaming through the window.

Gorgeous. Like Luke.

Glory forced herself to take a deep breath. She needed to be thinking about something else,
anything
else. Even the fact that someone was apparently out to kill her would be better than thinking about Luke. Or how much she missed her own bed. Her hometown.

By her calculations, if they drove hard, she could be sleeping in her own bed by nightfall. Or—more likely—she’d be sitting on her sister’s overstuffed couch, attempting to explain why she’d come back without $860,000.

Whatever she was doing, she needed to stop thinking about Luke. About how good he smelled. Felt. Tasted.

She looked over at him, staring blankly at his plate of light, buttery pancakes piled neatly under a sea of maple syrup. His gaze tracked across the table to her plate, then around the diner, taking in the jukebox in the corner, the old-timers hunkered up at the counter, and the faded soda pop advertisement on the back wall.

“I’ve never been in a place like this.” A soft smile playing across his face. “It’s interesting. Quaint.” His eyes never left her face, staring at her as if she were good enough to eat. “Everything looks so delicious.”

If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was trying to flirt with her. But she knew better. No man who was attracted to a woman would sleep next to her all night long and not try something. Anything.

“Didn’t your mother ever cook you breakfast?”

Luke’s laughter was a deep tenor that seeped through her skin and into her soul. “My mother’s sharp. A good businesswoman and a better social climber, even if she does have foul taste in men—first my dad, then Chester. But no, she doesn’t cook.”

“How’d she end up with Chester? Your stepfather didn’t seem like marriage material the other night.”

“I think she was lonely.” Luke cleared his throat. “After my father died she was just so sad. She bounced around from one guy to another, but they were all after her money. I think ultimately she married Chester because she couldn’t face being alone at night. That, and he’s even richer than I am. He’s a drunk, a fool, and a bad businessman—I bid against him for Cleopatra’s Asp and came out the winner—but he’s kind to my mother.”

“Maybe he’s got hidden depths.” Glory ate a bite of eggs. “There’s got to be more to men than looks and money, or you wouldn’t be able to go outside…what with all the women throwing themselves at you.”

Luke definitely wasn’t hurting for women, but that didn’t mean she wanted to join his fawning masses. The waitresses back at the poker game had looked at him like he was God Almighty. Tiffanette had practically salivated all over him, even after she’d kidnapped him. At least the woman who’d brought them their breakfast hadn’t fawned all over him. “Back home, a man like you would be snapped up lickety-split.”

“I’m surprised that someone hasn’t snapped you up,” Luke said. “Back home.”

“Right.” She hadn’t been on a date since the Stone Ages. Long legs stretched out underneath the cramped diner table, knocking against her ankles. Was it on purpose, some attempt at close contact? Or just a result of the small space? She shook her head, putting the thought out of her mind and going back to what he’d asked her. Dating.

“It’s hard to go out in a small town where everyone knows your business,” she noted.

“So your town’s not perfect after all.”

“I never said it was. I step one toe out of line and the next thing, everyone’s talking about how those crazy Allen girls are at it again. But I figure it’s as close to perfect as you’re likely to find here on earth.” She waved her hand, indicating the diner. “My place, it’s a little like this. Only better. People come from all over just for a cup of coffee and some company. I’m not out there trying to pave over the universe.”

“Neither am I. It’d be bad business.” He glared at her. “I’m in the business of selling dreams.”

“Dreams? I didn’t know those were something you could buy.”

“In Las Vegas, you can buy anything for the right money. Dreams are cheap. I inherited a hotel and casino from my father. Now I have twelve hotels around the world and three top-rated casinos.”

“I got a silver cross from my father.” Glory’s hand darted up to toy with the pendant around her neck.

“It’s not about what you have. It’s what you do with it.” Luke’s frown was gone, replaced by a soft smile and a faraway look.

Huh. So he genuinely liked what he did.

“I want to bring the glamour back to Las Vegas,” he continued. “The place I’m opening soon—it’s unlike anything else out there. Cleopatra’s Asp.”

“What kind of name is that?”

“It was opened back in 1962, about six months after Caesars Palace. When I bought it, the decorations were pure seventies—harvest-gold shag carpeting with avocado tables. I’m restoring it back to its original glory. Think Rat Pack. Sinatra crooning on stage and men dressing up to gamble. The place will be a huge success.”

The pitch was a little too practiced. As though he’d used it before. A lot. His grin was bright.

“At least it will be, if we get the parking structure built in time,” he added.

“Right, the parking structure.” Glory had listened attentively while Luke was on the phone. “The one that’s going to screw up the neighborhood.”

“Right. The
neighborhood
. Half a dozen streets, a broken-down park, and a used bookstore.”

“That’s not a neighborhood. A neighborhood’s the woman who works behind the counter at the used bookstore. The kids who play in the park. The creek running through downtown.” All the types of things the developer trying to take over Beaux wanted to destroy. “You just can’t go in someplace and steamroll a community.”

“I’m not—” Luke snapped his jaw shut and shook his head before speaking again. “Before we began renovations, studies were conducted on community impact. The economic benefit will be considerable. We’ll be raising the area’s per capita income. The infrastructure will be expanded.”

He was speaking English. Glory understood every individual word that he was saying. It was just the sentences that didn’t make any sense.

“I only own a little one-room diner,” Glory said. “It’s not much, but I’m still worried about leaving it for a few days. My breakfast cook’s keeping an eye on things. Justin. Only he’s not much of a cook. He was a steamfitter over in Miller’s Crossing for years. The man knows how to weld like nobody’s business, but he always burns the bacon.”

“If he’s such a bad cook, why’d you hire him?”

“Justin?” She shrugged. “He’s seventy-three years old. Working for me gives him something to do.”

“Very kind, but I don’t know if you’re showing the best business acumen—”

“Who cares about business acumen?” Glory put down her knife and fork. “Justin taught Ashley how to drive. He taught Hallie how to weld a straight line. He fixes my sink when the pipes break, and he comes in at four every morning to make the coffee. The man is worth his weight in gold.”

“That’s good.” Luke was still messing around with the sugar packets, his brow furrowed with concentration. Probably thinking about all the papers he’d left on his desk before going out for a card game and getting himself kidnapped.

There was no talking sense into that man. Glory gave up. Instead, she went back to staring idly out the window, her chin on her fist.

And saw a big black SUV on the street outside.

“Hell.” She held her breath, silently praying to the Good Lord Almighty. The SUV turned into the parking lot. It parked in the front lot and four men got out. She recognized them from two nights earlier. The one on the right was the man who’d shot Bone.

Oh, God. The bad guys were coming into the diner.

“Get down,” she said, and the desperation in her tone must have sunk into Luke’s consciousness, because he ducked down low at the same time she did, then peered at her underneath the table.

The diner’s front door was off-limits. Not unless they wanted to get caught. There had to be a back exit, but where? She scanned the room, swearing under her breath when she realized the back exit would be visible from the parking lot as well. They couldn’t walk through either without passing through the thugs’ line of sight. The bad guys might not know her name the way everyone back home did, but sitting next to Luke meant that she was unmistakable.

The man stood out like a single star in a dark night, like one of the rich tourists who tried crashing locals-only parties back home.

“I thought they couldn’t follow us anymore. You got rid of your phone yesterday.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

“It must be a coincidence. The car’s not visible from the road. There can’t be that many places to eat around here—”

“A coincidence?” She raised her head slightly, peeking out at the men again.

They weren’t doing much, just standing around all cool. Casual, relaxed. Not in bad-guy mode.

Luke was right—damn it—this was just a coincidence. The goons hadn’t come to this particular diner hunting the Vanquish. Of course, that still didn’t explain what they were doing in Oklahoma. Somehow they were tracking her and Luke. But how? She briefly wondered if a tracking device could have been attached to the car.

Probably not. If that had been the case, the Vanquish would have been discovered ages ago.

She’d have to figure it out with Luke. Later.

For now, they needed to get the hell out of there.

“The flare gun’s in the car out back. You have any bright ideas?”

“Of course.” Luke stood quickly, tossing some money on the table. Glory grabbed her bag, and when he stepped toward her, she scooted out in front of him.

Their backs to the goons entering through the front door, they made a dash toward the far end of the diner. No unmarked exit. They ducked down a short hallway leading to a storage room and a bathroom.

Luke pulled her into the one-person bathroom. He shut the door.

“What do you think?” she asked, her heart pounding against her ribs. This was it. She was going to die in a bathroom with white walls and a green tile floor that needed a good mopping. Some stranger with an Oklahoma accent would call her sisters, notifying them over the phone of her death by gunshot.

No, she’d made it this far. She started looking around for something—anything—that would help them. The sink had been cracked and repaired multiple times. The only window was a good six feet off the ground, a tiny slit that light filtered through from the outside.