And what were the circumstances around Dead Johnson’s untimely death?
And if she didn’t have enough on her mind, there was Peter’s conversation she’d overheard—someone at Mashburn & Tully was paranoid about Randolph talking to his children…but why?
Peter’s promise they would do something fun this afternoon, just the two of them, echoed in her head as she approached the room’s door with Jack and Coop.
“How long are you both planning to stay in Vegas?” Carlotta asked, inserting the keycard.
Jack shrugged. “I’d like to stay until we get an ID on the body.”
Coop nodded. “Hopefully his DNA will be in the system.”
“Keep me posted?” she asked.
“Yep,” Jack said, without making eye contact.
“Send me those files,” Coop said as he and Jack walked away.
She pushed open the door to the sound of voices. On the other side of the suite, Wes, Hannah, and Chance were sprawled on the elegant, pale furniture and apparently working their way through the assortment of food and drinks in the bar. Empty wrappers were strewn everywhere and something purple had been spilled on one of the couch pillows. Peter stood nearby looking irritated and helpless.
“Hey, Sis,” Wes called, saluting with a bottle of soda. “This is one hell of a room.”
“Our room isn’t nearly this nice,” Chance said, licking chocolate from his fingers. “We’ll probably hang out here most of the time.”
Peter’s face blanched, but Carlotta welcomed the raucous interlopers.
Hannah pushed up from a chair, holding a bottle of wine by the neck. “What the fuck? Wes said some stalker followed you out here and fucking died in your safe?”
“Hi, yourself. And that’s about the sum of it.”
“How do you die in a safe?”
“I’ll tell you about it later.”
“Tell me about it now,” Hannah said, steering her away from the others. Then she leaned in close and whispered, “Why the fuck did you get engaged to Peter? I thought you came out here to find you-know-who, not to fuck up your life.”
“Can we dial down the ‘f’ word?”
“Can you give me a fucking answer?”
“Why do people normally get engaged?” Carlotta hedged. “I love him.”
“It’s me you’re talking to. You find out Jack knocked up Liz and suddenly you love Peter?”
“Okay. I want to love Peter, and I think I can get there.”
“I think I’m going to be sick all over this silk carpet.”
“Did you come all the way out here just to give me a hard time about Peter?”
Hannah frowned. “No. In fact, I need your help. I promised my father I’d meet with some VIP piece-of-shit royalty at one of our hotels out here, just to kiss his noble ass.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“So I can’t go looking like this, and I don’t want Chance to see me looking like that. Can you help me pull this off?”
Carlotta looked past Hannah’s shoulder to take in the motley Atlanta crew assembled in Vegas. Had everyone brought secrets with them?
“Sure. Actually, I could use your help, too.”
“No problem.” Hannah took a swig from the bottle of wine. “So where’s the big-ass diamond ring and what’s up with the pink Barbie bracelet?”
Chapter 7
“THANKS FOR LETTING ME get dressed in your room,” Hannah said, fastening her seatbelt.
“Are you kidding?” Carlotta clicked her own belt into place. “I wouldn’t have missed seeing the look on Peter’s face when you came out.” Her friend had gone into the bathroom looking like trouble, and came out looking like the cover of a magazine.
Hannah grinned. “It did feel good to render Richie Rich speechless.”
“I think I saw a spark of attraction there,” Carlotta teased.
“Oh, no—don’t try to pawn your fiancé off on me.”
“I’m not.”
“I think you are.” Hannah gave her a pointed look. “How’s the sex going?”
Carlotta sighed. “It isn’t…yet.”
“Carlotta! This is the time in your relationship when you should be going at each other like rabbits.”
“Like you and Chance?”
“Bad example, but yeah. We’ve had sex seven times since we got to Vegas—and that’s while sharing a room with Wes.”
Carlotta lifted her hand. “I don’t want to hear anymore. You have to admit finding a dead guy in the room is a libido killer.”
“Speak for yourself.”
Carlotta laughed, shaking her head.