Dangerous Flirt(Laytons Book 2)(43)
The subtle approach hadn’t worked last night. She wouldn’t go that route again. The hired thugs, Stoliz and Daniels, could still be useful, however.
“Do you know where she’s staying?”
“She’s at the Bellagio.”
“With the sheriff?”
“I don’t think so.”
Sarah Jane thought back to the way Hank had watched Beth this morning. Would he let her stay by herself after last night? Doubtful.
“Where is the sheriff staying?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then stop sitting there looking all sad and pathetic and find out.”
His eyes widened.
Darn it, she didn’t mean to be so harsh with him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. It’s just we’re so close to making everything perfect. It’s only Beth standing in the way of us being a family together.”
He sat up straighter in his seat and his face lost its confusion. “Give me five minutes.” He grabbed his phone.
While Phil talked on the phone, she got her suitcase out of the closet and laid it on the bed. She tossed in the contents of the dresser drawers and closet. Next, she gathered her toiletries from the bathroom. It took less than five minutes to pack up her room.
“The Palms. Got it.” Phil clicked off the phone. “What are you doing?”
“Getting ready to lead everyone on a wild goose chase while you work with Stoliz and Daniels to take care of Beth and the sheriff.”
“What do you mean ‘take care of’?”
She zipped shut her suitcase. “I mean kill them.”
He jumped up from his chair. “Mother—”
She stopped him with a flip of her hand. She hadn’t come this close to getting her revenge to be stopped by that bitch. She’d waited too long and risked too much. She had to make Phil understand.
“Your father favors her at work, do you like that?”
“You know I don’t, but—”
“As Ed Webster’s son, shouldn’t it be you that he lavishes attention on?”
“Yes, but he doesn’t believe I’m his son.”
“He will. That’s what I’m trying to explain to you. That’s why we have to do this.” She patted down his collar. “It’s them or your family. Which do you care about more?”
For the fiftieth time during the ten-minute cab ride, Hank stared at the closeup of the thugs from the Little Elvis Wedding Chapel. The smaller one had a narrow scar from where his chin must've been busted open. What he'd give to be able to give the asshole a few matching injuries.
He'd already e-mailed a copy of the photos to the Dry Creek Sheriff's Office. Chances were slim the men would pop up on a local search, but with luck, some of the national databases would reveal their identity.
The cab pulled into the taxi line at the Paris Hotel. Wallet at the ready, he pulled out a few bills and handed them over to the driver. “Keep the change.”
The dry Las Vegas heat hit him as soon as he stepped out of the cab. Damn, he couldn't wait to get back to Dry Creek and the crisp fall weather. He'd had it with sweating his balls off in October. As soon as he walked into the casino, he scanned the crowd for Beth's brown hair even though he knew she’d still be in her panel.
But she wasn’t.
He increased his speed as he made his way through the lines of slot machines surrounding the bar. She sat at the bar with her back to him, chatting with a guy in a dark suit. Damn it, he’d warned her to stay at her panel where there’d be lots of people she knew.
“Beth!”
She didn’t turn.
The man whispered in her ear, giving Hank a perfect view of his profile. He turned, revealing a scar on his chin. The fucker was right here.
At the same moment, the man swept aside Beth’s hair, revealing a stranger.
Where was Beth?
First relieved Beth hadn’t been taken, Hank paused his march. But not for long. Fury at the perp who’d chased them last night blazed to the forefront. He popped his knuckles and stormed forward.
His target stood, oblivious to the world of hurt about to befall him.
Hank rushed up the three steps to the raised bar and shoved the goon away from the brunette.
Startled, the woman squeaked. Barstools scraped back as people scattered.
Surprise flashed in the man’s pale blue eyes, quickly blotted out by recognition. The white scar on his chin stood out like a crooked bull’s-eye.
The thundering feet of running security guards approached from behind.
In the half a second it took for him to pull back his fist, the man grabbed the brunette and flung her into Hank.
Thrown backward, he crashed back into the brass railing surrounding the bar. They both tumbled to the ground, the woman screaming at the top of her lungs.