A few seconds later, a text came back. Auuuuuuuuuuuukkkkkk
Which in Chance’s case, could mean anything—he could be on the commode, having a stroke, or jerking off.
“Ladies and gentleman, we’re ready to close the door and push back, please turn off all electronic devices and fasten your seatbelt.”
Wes sighed. Maybe Chance could catch a later flight.
“Wait!”
A passenger bounded through the door and if Wes hadn’t recognized the voice, he would’ve recognized the thud of his buddy’s big body coming to a wheezing halt.
“Made it!” Chance crowed triumphantly, and a few passengers cheered.
“Because I pulled you on my suitcase,” said his exasperated companion. Pierced and tatted Hannah Kizer was barely winded.
That explained the erratic text. Wes grinned when his buddy made it back to his seat. “That was close, dude.”
“Hannah decided to come!”
“He sees me,” Hannah snapped. “My seat is back here—wait, is that Coop?”
“You and Chance can sit here, and I’ll take your seat,” Wes offered to Hannah.
“No way,” Hannah said, already moving down the aisle. “I’ll see you two bozos on the other side.”
Wes glanced at Chance to see if his feelings were hurt, but Chance was glowingly oblivious to Hannah’s dis.
“This is going to be a fucking blast,” Chance said, settling back in his seat. “You’re going to love Vegas, man—anything can happen there.”
Wes nodded. Maybe it was the money he was wearing next to his skin, but he definitely felt as if he was on the brink of something big happening.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” a flight attendant announced, “we’re ready to depart. Travel time from Atlanta, Georgia, to Las Vegas, Nevada, is approximately four hours, thirty minutes. We should arrive around 12:00 noon, local time. Please sit back and enjoy the flight.”
Chapter 4
CARLOTTA SNAPPED the pink beaded bracelet against her wrist. Thank goodness it was waterproof—but ouch, it hurt more when the elastic was wet.
She lathered her skin, trying to ignore the sensations triggered by the warm, soapy water and the massaging pulse of the shower head. On top of her and Peter’s romantic efforts being interrupted last night, talking to Jack had resurrected so many wrong, no-good thoughts. And she was keenly aware how inappropriate her erotic urges were in the wake of finding Dead Johnson in her safe…but she couldn’t turn them off.
Releasing a pent-up groan, she turned the temperature lever deep into blue territory for an icy blast that took her breath away.
A knock on the door sounded. “Everything okay in there?” Peter asked.
She turned off the shower. “Yes. I ran out of hot water.”
“Well, you’ve been in there a long time.”
She closed her eyes briefly. Peter was being understandably overprotective after a “stalker” had followed her to Vegas and presumably broken into her room to lie in wait and suffocated for his trouble. With Jack’s blessing, she hadn’t told Peter or the police she suspected Dead Johnson had moved in next door to her and Wes—and subsequently followed her to Vegas—for a reason other than a perceived romantic attachment. If she were a betting woman, she’d put her money on it having something to do with Randolph’s reappearance.
But she needed for Peter to believe the danger was past.
“I was just taking advantage of this amazing bathroom,” she called.
After last night’s “regrettable mishap,” they’d been upgraded from a huge suite to a monstrous suite. She stepped out of the glass shower that would easily accommodate fifty people and glanced around the glittery spa-worthy room, taking in the gilded tub in the center of the room, the gold-leaf mosaic in the tile around the room, the wall of beveled-glass mirrors, and the enormous crystal chandelier that reigned over it all.
And this was her bathroom. Peter had his own equally posh lavatory on the other side.
“Wes just called our room—I told him to come up.”
“Oh, good. I’ll be right out.”
She was missing her little brother more than she thought she would. In truth, she missed Atlanta and everyone in her familiar world. She’d been in Vegas for less than twenty-four hours and she was feeling unwelcome, as if the city didn’t want her here and would devour her if she stayed too long. She’d hoped to start looking for her mother today, but it would have to wait until tomorrow when Peter would be occupied with clients.
If Wes was here, Jack was probably in town, too, or would be soon. He’d told her he’d check in after he talked to the Vegas police. Just knowing Jack was close by made her feel—