He had no right. He didn’t fucking own Sienna Flower.
Do I want to? No, she’s a small obsession.
The only thing left to do was try to get some shut-eye before landing. Carson closed his eyes, leaned back, and started going over a plan of action for LA, based on where the family thought their missing relative could be hiding out with a similar God-fearing cult as the one back east.
As he made his plan, his mental checklist went something like this: Rent a car, check into a hotel, hit the streets, scout out a few predetermined neighborhoods, Sienna’s tits.
Shit. He was so screwed.
Thursday
THE ENTIRE week so far had proven to be largely nonproductive for Carson. He was barking up the wrong tree when it came to this case. He needed to clear his head. But which one?
His need to see Sienna was interfering with everything else in his life, and for what? This would be his last weekend in Vegas. He’d spend some time with her, going as far as she would go, get as much of her body and mind and eyes out of his system, and move on.
He couldn’t let his personal life screw with his work anymore. He’d kissed ass long enough at the Bureau and now he was his own boss, but that didn’t mean he could keep fucking up and not solve cases. He made up his mind to spend the next seventy-two hours with Sienna, and hoped to spend a number of them deep inside her.
Carson was itching to go to the Tunnel as soon as he pulled into his home away from home, his hotel on the Strip, even though he knew Sienna wouldn’t be onstage for hours. He also knew she was already there. Maybe she would let him come back and see her? He wanted to text her and ask, but he didn’t want to look as incredibly desperate as he was.
He decided on a quick workout, steam, shower, bite to eat, and then the club for Sienna’s dance. He was going to ask if he could go back to her dressing room afterward. No doubt.
DESPITE THE rocky start, Sienna had made an effort to relax on the trip to the desert earlier in the week. It was nice to be away with Asher, the only person she could truly be herself around. Except these days, Asher always called her Sienna in public. Way back then when the two of them would get together, she was still Lila to Asher.
Sienna was pretty sure everyone at the hotel had thought the two of them were a couple. They’d shared a room, and had lain next to each other in a little cabana by the pool and indulged in a couple’s massage. The two simply enjoyed each other’s company, and there was a lightness of spirit when they were together.
There was no denying Asher was on high alert for Sienna’s safety, evidenced by his insisting on staying attached to her hip even more than usual.
This actually worked in her favor, because he couldn’t escape Sienna when she asked about Natalie. With a lot of prying, Asher finally opened up about what was really going on with the couple, and now Sienna regretted asking. The situation was so complex, she had no idea how to fix it for Asher.
With little to no experience in relationships, Sienna could only listen to Asher and his crazy story. It was all new to Asher, his life was about to be completely upturned when everything came out in the open, and he begged her for some time to digest it himself before they figured out how to solve it. Good, Sienna thought, because she didn’t even know where to begin.
To say it was complicated was putting it mildly. Sienna’s head throbbed while trying to tie all the loose ends together. It was a sordid tale even for Vegas standards, and she wished the whole situation would end favorably for all those involved, although it seemed unlikely. In the end, Asher promised that he would come to her when he was ready to make any decisions. That worked for her.
Now that the little getaway was over and they were back in the city limits of Las Vegas, Sienna was completely on edge when it came to her own affairs of the heart. She’d been massaged, her pores cleared from a facial and the steam room, and she wasn’t one bit relaxed. Between the cowboy—who they now knew was named Sam Charles, thanks to Mike calling in a favor with the police—and anticipating Carson’s return, she was unraveling.
As for Sam Charles, all Mike’s police buddy needed was one security camera image and a fingerprint from his glass at the club, and he pulled up a file. Sam Charles had been born and bred in New Jersey, and certainly had no reason to sport a cowboy hat. Sienna was convinced he was after her, thinking he could throw everyone off with his stupid hat and Southern bullshit.
Sienna’s nerves were unraveling, the worry threatening to tear her apart over this guy, Sam. What was he doing in Vegas? When did he get there? What did he want?
Her, of course!
Mike had been keeping a close eye on the Tunnel and other strip joints in Vegas. Sam hadn’t been seen in days. Mike felt confident that he ran him out of town, but Sienna wasn’t so certain. She didn’t know why, but she was convinced he would be coming back to get her.