Ha. Right. Nothing would ever be as normal as it had been with Kass—she had been his normal, and now she was gone, and it was all his fucking fault.
In front of the hotel doors, a car pulled up to the valet parking. He squinted into the sun, recognizing the make and model of the sleek black car in front of him. It was a classic Mercedes, the one his sister had owned before her death. She had loved that car—cherished it. It had been a gift from their father for her sweet sixteen.
Rage flooded through Logan as the driver's side door opened and a woman stepped out. She wore a black cocktail dress that clung to the slender curves of her body. Sunglasses framed her face, and her blond hair was down around her shoulders. She clutched a Gucci purse under one arm and an older gentleman with a potbelly on the other. Logan knew that man who clung to her arm—he'd been the man she was screwing while she'd been married to his father. She didn't spot him across the street as she handed the keys to the valet and vanished inside the front doors to the lobby.
Logan pushed himself off the wall and smashed out the burning cigarette, adjusting his sunglasses as the bright Nevada sun egged on a headache. He pulled out another cigarette and slid it between his lips, wincing as somewhere out of the corner of his eye, a flash of light blinded him. He shielded his eyes, scanning the area for the culprit. Standing across the street, tacky pink jewel dangling from the cell phone in her hand, was Kass. She was leaning up against a palm tree, one arm crossed and other one holding a leash. Her leg was propped up behind her, watching him, and the silly dog was lying at her feet. He stared for a moment, trying to fathom the possibility. Was it even her? Yes. Yes, it was her. There was no mistaking that wavy brown hair and stubborn, no-bull-shit stance.
Logan dropped the unlit cigarette onto the ground and crossed the street, unfamiliar with this new feeling of awe overtaking him. He had never felt like this before; so glad, so excited, so relieved. When she saw him approach, she lifted her chin, eyes meeting his. She had that challenging look on her face, an expression mixed with both excitement and smugness. She said nothing as he approached, only let her hands drop to her sides as he came face to face with her.
“Is it wrong to feel awkward here?” she asked, sizing up The Four Seasons Hotel behind them. “I miss our Motel 6 already.”
Logan reached out for her, pulling her into him, embracing the alluring scent of shampoo in her hair. His heart fluttered unnaturally against his chest as he rested his lips on her forehead and closed his eyes. It was like a dream come true, a moment of pure elation. They stood together for the time being, embraced in the other one's arms. Nothing had to be said now. The silence was all that was needed, and an unspoken bond hung between them.
“Yeah,” Logan said. “I do, too.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
At first, Kass was confident she might regret this. She'd flipped around fifteen miles outside of Mesquite after calling the phone number the police department had given her. Once at the hotel, she'd seen Logan, standing on the other side of the street with a cigarette in his mouth and a scowl on his face. Every reason to turn around and go home screamed in her ear, but even then, she couldn't bring herself to do it. She'd already seen him. There was no way she could leave now. But even then, she'd fought with herself for a moment, wondering if it would be better for her to leave, to turn around and never look back. But now, as he held her in his arms, it wasn't just comfortable—it was exactly where she wanted to be.
“You're an idiot,” he said in her ear. His breath tickled her neck, and she buried her face in her chest, never wanting to let go. “You are such an idiot.”
“You're telling me.” He smelled of cigarette smoke and sweat, and she wanted to drink the familiarity of it in. She let her head rest against his chest, never wanting to let go, wondering if they could just stay like this forever. Forget Laurel. Forget the cops. Forget everything. But she knew they couldn't. This mess wasn't over yet.
“This could be dangerous, Kass,” Logan said. He held her out, his eyes meeting her, and brushed a strand of her hair behind one ear. “I don't even really have a plan.”
Vegas nudged them with his wet nose, not understanding, only concerned with the attention he was not getting.
“It's okay.” She raised her fingers to his lips and smiled. “We'll figure it out.
She didn't know if they would figure it out or not, but at that moment, she didn't care. She was with Logan, and that's all that mattered. When she was with him, she was complete. It was that simple.
Kass stood on her tiptoes and kissed him again, embracing the feeling of warmth that traveled through her body. She knew that staying on the road to home would have been the better idea, the safer one. But the thought of never seeing Logan again had shattered her heart into pieces. It had dawned on her somewhere in the stupid desert between Las Vegas and Lakewood that she didn't care what happened to her anymore—so long as she was with him when it did.
“Well, she's here,” Logan said, taking her hand in his and removing his sunglasses. “I just saw her.”
“Good.” Kass pocketed her phone and took the sunglasses from him, placing them over her own eyes. “Let's do this.”
He couldn't be angry with her. He couldn't even be annoyed. She had come back. After everything he did to her, after everything he was, she had come back to him, and she still wanted to be with him.
Logan rested his elbows on the restaurant table top, grasping his hands together in front of him. Sitting across from him was Kass, all-smiles and buzzed from the wine she'd consumed. She had insisted on lunch first, as though it was the most important thing to do while they were in Vegas. Outside the glass doors of the diner, Logan kept a firm eye on the mutt he had tied to the mailbox. It didn't matter that he had never been an animal person—the dog was still his. No, theirs.
“So, tell me again,” she insisted. “I want to make sure we do this right.” She picked up the wine glass, smiling kindly at the server who dispersed their appetizer on the table top. Logan watched her walk away, overly aware that they would have to keep each conversation on the down low.
“It's going to be complicated,” he said. He leaned forward, picking at the pieces of bread in the basket. “We need the police at the hotel, but we need to find Laurel's room first.” He hesitated, feeling wary. Even though she had found him and come back to him, he was terrified that something would go wrong and Kass would get hurt. What would he do if Kass got hurt because of him? How in the hell could he live with himself then? “The cops, they won't even give me a chance to explain, Kass—they may kill me on the spot if I don't have her with me to confess.”
“We don't know what room she's in, Logan,” Kass said. “I don't think it's going to be as simple as asking for it, either. Some places can be kind of weird about the confidentiality thing.”
He looked over at her, taking her hand in his. Her skin was soft. Comforting.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
Kass swallowed once, and then nodded, her free hand curling around the glass of wine.
“Of course,” she said, and he believed her. If she didn't trust him, he knew she wouldn't have come back.
“Good,” he said. He squeezed her hand and looked over his shoulder. “Listen carefully—here's what we're going to do.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It was probably just her imagination, but Kass could swear that the more nervous she got, the more people appeared. She felt eyes on her, that moment of paranoia when you know that no one is looking at you, but it still feels like every eye in the place is staring you down. Her heart was pounding against her ribs as she picked up the payphone and dialed her best friend's number. She held her breath. It rang twice, and Abby picked up, sounding breathless and flustered.
“Hi,” Kass said. Her friend's voice made her heart leap, and her stomach twist into knots, making her suddenly homesick. “It's me.”
“Kass!” Abby shrieked. “Where are you?”
Kass held the
phone away from her ear, drawing glances from across the room.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Who's with you?”
“Abby, I'm—”
“It's that murderer, isn't it? People have seen you together, Kass! If he did something to you, I'll kill him. I'll kill him and—”
“Abby, he didn't do anything to me. I'm okay.” She listened to her friend's irregular breathing on the other end of the line, and she could see in her mind how Abby looked; face flushed red, hair wild, eyes shining with that of the heat of a thousand suns.
“I don't understand,” she said finally. “You were kidnapped—you were taken hostage. The police, they've been looking for him. And you. They've been looking for both of you and—” her words trailed off. “Kass. I don't understand.”
“It's—complicated.” She turned to look at Logan, who was still waiting for her in the lounge chair by the door, Vegas sitting at his feet. He met her eyes and smiled—such a beautiful smile—and she forced one back. “Listen, I have to go, but give me a call in about fifteen minutes, will you? I'll explain everything then. I'm staying under the name Laurel Ryder. Just ask for me.”
“Laurel who? What? I still don't under—”
“I have to go, Abby. I love you.” She dropped the phone back into the cradle, her fingers shaking. Hearing her best friend's voice had been harder than she had expected. She missed home. She wanted to be home. But then, another part of her, the bigger part, couldn't bear to think of never seeing Logan again.
“Are you okay?” he asked, getting to his feet as she approached.
She took a breath and nodded, wondering if she was as okay as she was trying to be. Of course she was—she was with Logan.
“I miss Abby,” she admitted. “She's my best friend, you know? This has been a bizarre turn of events, is all.”
“This is going to work,” Logan assured her. “Does she have the number to the hotel?”
“It should be on her caller ID.”
“Good. If it works out in the way I think it will, she'll call the police and send them here. If you gave Abby Laurel's name, they'll be able to get the room number.”
“Aren't you afraid they'll get you first?” Kass asked. The thought of anything bad happening to Logan made her sick, but she had to put her faith in him and trust his plan to work.
“By the time they get here, we'll have found the room and Laurel,” Logan said.
“I don't understand,” Kass said. “We don't know Laurel's room number.”
He smiled, reassuring, and took her hand.
“She isn't alone,” he said. “There was a man she was with that I saw outside. While she was married to my father, she was having an affair with a man named Tyson Barnett. He's a businessman. Rich and powerful. Oh, and did I mention he’s also her drug dealer?”
“You mean the GHB?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think they have that on them?”
“Without a doubt,” Logan said. “A man like Barnett carries wherever he goes. If we can find the drug that she used to give to me, we might be able to use it for evidence.”
“Okay, Logan,” she said. “What do we do now? How do you expect to get into her room?” She watched him fold his arms, looking wary. She didn't much like that look.
“It's what I need you to do, Kass,” he said quietly.
“I don't think I like that sounds of that.” She shifted, feeling tense, and Logan squeezed her shoulder—this time, though, it didn't reassure her much.
“Outside the lobby doors, there's a courtesy phone near the bell-hope desk. Call the hotel, and ask for Tyson Barnett's room. It is probably under his name, anyway.”
“Okay. And then what?”
Logan stood up, pulling Kass to her feet. He took her into her arms, chin resting on the top of her head as she laid her cheek against his chest. All she wanted to do was hug him and never let go.
“Trust me on this, okay?”
October in Vegas was still hot. Too hot for Kass. She was a Seattle girl, born and raised. In Nevada, the heat was stifling. When she was hot, she was antsy, and she was just really, really pissed off. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she took a steadying breath as the rings buzzed in her ear.
“Four Seasons Hotel,” chirped the desk attendant. Even wearing Logan's sunglasses, Kass could feel the heat giving her a headache. She shielded her eyes, wishing she was standing in front of an Air Conditioner.
“Tyson Barnett’s room, please.”
“Please hold.” There was a moment of silence, and then a tacky elevator tune began to play in her ear. Kass reached into her pocket and fingered the tattered piece of paper with Logan's note on it, feeling anxious. On the third ring, a man picked up.
“What?” he barked.
Kass turned away from the glass window, focusing on a random drawing of a dog on the disheveled phonebook in front of her.
“Mr. Barnett, this is Sarah—” she glanced down at the book, panicking “—Sarah Fridgeair. I'm with Las Vegas PD. We have reports of vandalism on a vehicle registered under your name.”
There was silence, and then: “What the fuck?”
“Some punk kids tagged your car,” she lied. “We're here now doing a report, and the hotel manager transferred us over. Please meet us in the lobby.”
“Sure, sure,” Barnett mumbled. His voice was gruff, strained. “Give me a minute.”
He hung up the phone with a click, and after a moment the dial tone buzzed in her ear. Kass hung up the receiver and backed out of the booth, trying to keep the sound of his voice in her head. Outside the sprawling front doors, Logan was slipping a wad of cash into the hand of one of the bellhops. The man nodded and took the leash from Logan, glancing down warily at the yellow dog. Logan shook his hand and met her inside.
“Well done,” he said, stepping up beside her as she walked. “Wait at the elevator. I won't be far.” He veered to the left, away from her, and Kass stopped in front of the elevator doors. Her chest was tight, and for a moment she struggled to breathe. She could do this—she would do this. If it meant helping Logan wash his hands of this mess, she would happily do it. Nothing—not even this—could keep her away from him.
Kass closed her eyes and took a calming breath as the jolt of the elevator started up. She leaned back against the wall, waiting, as the floor numbers on the elevator ticked off slowly, almost sluggish. Despite the cold air-conditioned lobby of the hotel, sweat was forming on the palms of her hands. She wiped them on her jeans, hoping—praying—that they could pull this off with no problems. It was risky, she knew that, but there was no way in hell they were going down without a fight.
Ding.
Main floor. She straightened up as the doors opened. Five people were in front of her. Two women, a child, and two men. Frantically, she flicked her gaze back and forth between the guests, trying to put a face to the name. A young woman with raven black hair stepped out, smiled at Kass, and walked away. A second woman, a redhead, followed suit, dragging her shrieking child with her. She took another step forward. Two men left. One middle-aged, one older. She took another step, placing herself in front of a motion sensor on the elevator.
“Can someone tell me which direction the pool is?” she asked. Her voice was squeaky, but neither man seemed to notice.
“It's down that hall and to the left,” the middle-aged man said with a smile. His voice was kind, smooth. She nodded at him with a return smile and stepped aside so he could leave.
“Thanks.” As he stepped around her to leave, the older man started after him, ignoring her. Kass moved up again, placing herself in the way of the elevator door.
“Would you mind showing me?” she asked. “I don't know my way around here very well.”
“I don't have time for this, kid,” the man said. He stepped in her direction, but she didn't move aside. She closed her eyes, putting the gruff voice to his face. It was him.
“Sorry about this,” she said. She stepped into the elevator, shoulde
ring her way in, using every bit of energy she had left to hold him off. Barnett let out a grunt of surprise as she pushed him back.
“I have to get off here,” he snapped. “Move aside, please.” Behind her, the elevator was closing. Someone caught hold of the door, pushing it back open, and a third body joined them. “Hold that door,” Barnett said. He pushed her aside, and Kass heard the click as Logan pushed a button, and the doors closed behind her. She turned around to face the front, ignoring Barnett's mutter of profanities. He was about to push the button to the main floor when Logan turned toward him, drawing the gun from the pocket of his hooded sweatshirt.
“Hi, Barnett,” he said. “It's been some time.” Kass watched the expression on the man's face flicker from confusion, and then recognition. His eyes widened in horror as Logan seized him by the throat with one hand and shoved him back, slamming him hard against the back wall of the boxed elevator. Barnett flailed, caught off guard, and was about to yell when Kass spun around and slammed the emergency stop button. The elevator came to an abrupt halt, jolting them, and then buzzed.
“We don't have much time,” she told Logan. She was certain there were cameras on them. He nodded, understanding, and pressed the barrel of the gun into Barnett's skull.
“What room are you?” he demanded. “What room is Laurel in?”
“Fuck you, kid,” Barnett snapped.
Kass flinched when Logan drew the weapon back and then lashed forward, slamming it into the man's head. Barnett cried out in pain, cursing. Kass knew he wouldn’t kill him, but his anger frightened her. She stared at the newly emerging blood on Barnett’s head, and she resisted the overwhelming urge to check his eyes and stop the bleeding. Even for a man like Barnett, she was an EMT because she had compassion for people, no matter how vile they may have been.
“I'll ask you one more time,” he hissed. “What room is Laurel in?”
The buzzing of the elevator grew louder, and Kass watched as Logan kneed the man in the groin. Barnett doubled over in pain.
Capture Me Page 20
