Werewolf in Las Vegas

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “Yes. Infinitely.”

  “Then I’m off. Don’t follow me.” He slipped into the crowd. His scent lingered for a few seconds and then was swept away as several women wearing strong perfume walked past.

  As Giselle made her way back to Luke, her thoughts were jumbled. She’d been face-to-face with her brother and had been so distracted by the issues with Luke and Cynthia that she hadn’t asked him the question that had brought her here. She still didn’t know if he wanted to be the Landry pack alpha or not.

  But she was reassured that he hadn’t fallen in love with Cynthia. That was something to hold on to. Now she had to decide what to do about Luke.

  • • •

  Luke paced while he waited, although pacing wasn’t easy in an area of high pedestrian traffic. He felt certain she’d caught a glimpse of her brother and thought she had a better chance of talking to him if she went after him alone. She could be right, but he wished she’d trusted him enough to say that.

  Yeah, that was what bothered him more than her taking off without him. He might think they operated as a team when they were together, but it looked as if she didn’t feel the same way.

  It struck him that his life had been spread out in front of her, literally in the case of the photo gallery, but he knew very little about hers. Maybe she didn’t trust him enough to tell him that, either. And that bothered him.

  Before he had time to examine why that was, she appeared, walking toward him with that graceful stride he admired. Yeah, he still wanted her. He couldn’t turn off his natural reaction, although he wished he could.

  She held his gaze as she approached. “Thanks for waiting.”

  “You saw your brother, didn’t you?”

  “I talked to him, but—”

  “What about Cynthia? Did you—”

  “She wasn’t there.”

  “What did he say?”

  She hesitated, as if deciding what to tell him. “I asked if they were involved, and he said no. There’s no chemistry.”

  Luke’s tension eased a fraction. “That’s good, but did you ask him if we could sit down and discuss this?”

  “No. He didn’t want to stay long. They must not feel the timing is right.”

  “Yet it seems he deliberately created an opportunity to talk with you. Why?”

  “He thinks I’m a good influence on you.”

  “Which he obviously thinks I need.” At first he was indignant, but that began to fade as he recalled that he’d basically told Giselle the same thing. He just didn’t like Landry saying it. He sighed. “Well, he’s right.”

  “I’ve decided to accept your invitation to stay in the penthouse in one of your guest rooms.”

  “You have?” Relief flooded through him. Until he’d resolved this issue with Cynthia, he needed Giselle nearby.

  “I’ll need my things.”

  He forced himself not to appear overly eager. “No problem. Jim will drive us down there so you can pick up your suitcase and check out.” He wondered what Vaughn Cartwright would think of Giselle leaving his hotel.

  She spoke as if reading his mind. “Vaughn will hear about it. Because I’m a family friend, his staff will report that I’ve checked out.”

  “Do you care?”

  “Only to the extent that I don’t want to be rude. He’s been nice to me.”

  “So send him a text and explain that we’re on the trail of your brother and my sister, and we need to be together for efficiency’s sake.”

  Giselle pulled out her phone. “Would you repeat that? I liked the wording.”

  Luke went through the logical explanation again. “And thank him for his hospitality.”

  “Right.” Her thumbs moved rhythmically as she completed the text. “Done.”

  “The town car is right over here.” He gestured toward it. When Jim saw them coming, he got out and opened the back passenger door.

  “Jim, this is Giselle Landry, a guest from San Francisco. Giselle, this is Jim Hicks. He drove my dad for about fifteen years, right, Jim?”

  “About that.” The burly chauffeur smiled at Giselle. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Landry.”

  Luke knew Jim had to be curious. Giselle was the first woman Luke had been seen with, other than his sister, since his dad died. But Jim was a professional and would never let his curiosity show. “We need to go to Illusions,” Luke said, “to pick up Giselle’s suitcase.”

  “Very good.” Jim’s gaze didn’t flicker. He waited until they were both seated in the backseat and then he closed the door.

  Luke settled back against the leather seat. “How did you know Bryce was close by, anyway?”

  “Just a hunch.”

  He glanced over at her. “Pretty good hunch. Do you two have a mental telepathy hookup?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “When Cynthia and I were younger, I used to think we had one. When she was two, she managed to sneak out to the pool and fell in when nobody was around to see her. But I got this panicky feeling and raced out there. She was already at the bottom.”

  Giselle’s eyes widened in horror. “How awful!”

  “It was awful.” Luke would never forget that moment. “I don’t remember screaming for help or diving in. But I must have, because I do remember working on her once I got her out. I was only ten, but thank God we’d studied CPR in school. And help came, so I must have screamed pretty loud.”

  “Wow. Scary.”

  “It was. I watched her like a hawk for the rest of that summer, and the next summer she learned to swim, so I relaxed a little.” And here he was, once again, revealing details of his life when he knew so little of hers. “Sorry. Ancient history.”

  “Vivid history, though, I’ll bet. Were there other times you sensed she was in trouble?”

  “A few.” Actually, more than a few, but he wanted an exchange of information this time. “How about you? Did you and Bryce come to each other’s rescue?”

  “All the time when we were little. But as we got older, not so much.”

  He didn’t know if she would have expanded on that or not because just then they arrived at Illusions. Jim parked under the portico.

  Leaning forward, Luke spoke to Jim. “No need to get out, Jim. Giselle has to check out, but we shouldn’t be long.” He’d never walked into Illusions, and he was damned curious.

  “Luke.” Giselle laid a hand on his arm. “You can’t come in with me.”

  “Why not? Can’t a guest bring someone in?”

  “No. Only registered guests are allowed through the front door. You’re not registered.”

  “Not even into the lobby? I’ve never heard of something so ridiculous. Who stays here, the president of Iran?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t get it. We’ve hosted Tom Hanks and Lady Gaga, and neither of them required that level of security.”

  “It’s the way the Cartwrights want it, I guess. But come up to the door with me and we’ll see if you can step inside for a few minutes and then come right back out.”

  Luke thought about not going because he was ticked off, but in the end, curiosity won out. “Okay.” He helped her out of the car and walked beside her to the double doors of the lobby.

  Impressively muscled doormen in gray uniforms stood on either side of the entrance. They both smiled at Giselle. “Good evening, madam.”

  “Good evening. I was wondering if—”

  “Your companion is not staying at the hotel, correct?” The doorman on the right eyed Luke with suspicion.

  Luke wondered how in the hell the guy knew that. Was it written on his forehead?

  “No, he’s not,” Giselle said. “But he’s with me. I was wondering if he could step inside for a minute. I wanted him to see the lobby decor.”

  “I’m afraid not, madam.” The doorman gazed at
her stoically. “You know the rules.”

  “I know, but I thought a few minutes wouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Sorry.”

  That was enough for Luke. He didn’t go where he wasn’t wanted. “That’s okay, Giselle. I’ll wait in the car.”

  She looked embarrassed. “But—”

  “Seriously. It doesn’t matter.”

  “Okay. I’ll be very fast. I didn’t bother to unpack, so I’ll be out in no time.”

  “I’ll be waiting.” He walked back to the car and climbed in.

  “Wouldn’t let you go in, would they?” Jim said.

  “Nope.”

  “I didn’t think they would. I’ve seen plenty of folks get turned away from that door. Must be some really famous people staying there.”

  “I can’t imagine who. Really famous people stay in hotels all along the Strip, and they don’t keep you from walking into their lobbies.”

  Luke was just as glad to get Giselle out of there. The Cartwrights were paranoid about security, and paranoia was never a good thing to be around. She’d be better off at his place.

  Then again, the restriction could be a marketing tool. Only those who paid the high price of a room were allowed to walk through the front door. Judging from the way Harrison Cartwright had decorated the Silver Crescent, this lobby would be similar in tone. Waterfalls and green plants, no doubt. The kind of atmosphere that Giselle preferred.

  He thought about the penthouse, which had fresh flowers in vases, but not too many potted plants. None, actually. Now he wished that he had some, and maybe a water feature. But at least he didn’t have to worry about whether his bedroom was too white. She’d never set foot in it.

  Chapter 10

  Giselle literally didn’t have to do anything besides walk into her hotel room, quickly maneuver through video checkout, grab the handle of her rolling bag, and head for the elevator. After leaving Vaughn’s office that afternoon, she’d been too intent on getting over to Howlin’ at the Moon to take the time to unpack.

  She was on the way down to the lobby when Vaughn called. The elevator was empty, so she answered.

  “Giselle, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

  “Not exactly, but I talked briefly with my brother a little while ago, and he would like to see this situation resolved between Luke and Cynthia. Bryce thinks my presence helps.”

  “Is Bryce serious about her?”

  “Fortunately not. We can relax on that score.”

  “Then it seems as if the rest isn’t your fight.”

  “True.” Then she thought of something. “But while I’m there, maybe I’ll think of some strategy that will help you get back the Moon and the playground.”

  “Good luck with that. I didn’t find any give to Luke on that subject.”

  “But everyone has the ability to change.” She believed Luke was changing, and after hearing the story of Cynthia’s near drowning, Giselle sympathized more with his overprotectiveness.

  “Just be careful. He’s a Dalton.”

  Giselle couldn’t help smiling at Vaughn’s ominous tone when he said the name Dalton. “I know he is. I’ll be careful. And I’ll let you know what happens.” The elevator slid to a stop. “I have to go. Oh, by the way, I met Mr. Thatcher tonight.”

  “Mr. Thatcher? Should I know who that is?”

  “He’s the Daltons’ butler. Very English.” She started to say more and changed her mind. She wasn’t sure what was going on, and she certainly didn’t want to cause a problem for Mr. Thatcher.

  “Oh, yeah. Now I remember him. I always thought it was strange that he wanted to work for a human family. Benedict was fascinated by the idea, though. He used to like getting Mr. Thatcher’s insights into human behavior, partly because of the accent, I think.”

  “His accent is cool. I felt a little like I was in some period drama.”

  “Just remember you’re in enemy territory.”

  “I’ll remember. Talk to you later, Vaughn.” She disconnected the call and stepped into the lobby. Too bad Luke couldn’t come in and see this.

  The forest effect really was spectacular. Earlier today the woodsy atmosphere had been enhanced with chattering birds and dappled sunlight, but now moonlight filtered through the branches. The hoot of an owl blended with the sound of wind through the tops of the trees.

  After their discussion about the lobby of the Silver Crescent, Luke might not appreciate having her gush over this one, especially when he wasn’t allowed to see it. She’d always accepted the restrictions when it came to Weres and humans, but she couldn’t imagine what could be wrong with letting him step inside the lobby of Illusions for five minutes. It wasn’t as if guests would be shifting in the middle of the lobby or strolling through it in werewolf form.

  But she supposed having a Were hotel and casino in the middle of Las Vegas was an unusual security challenge. The resorts in Washington State and Denver were far less accessible. This hotel had a front door that was steps away from a bustling street full of humans. Obviously the Cartwrights thought limiting access was the only way to maintain secrecy.

  A valet took her suitcase and rolled it out the door.

  “I’m in that town car.” She gestured to it as she pulled tip money out of her jeans pocket. Whenever she rode a motorcycle, which was often, she liked to use her pockets so she didn’t have to carry a purse.

  The valet opened the back door of the car and accepted her tip before putting her suitcase in the trunk. As she scooted in, she noticed that Luke had opened the envelope the little girl had given him and was looking at the picture inside. The light in the Illusions portico was bright enough to read a book.

  She scooted onto the seat. “Can I see?”

  He turned the picture toward her as the car pulled into traffic. “This is one of my favorites. She was a water sprite, and the costume was made of this flowing blue-green stuff. She was six.”

  “The costume’s beautiful.” But what Giselle noticed most was the brilliant, gap-toothed smile. “She looks really happy.”

  “I’m sure she was. She loved getting dressed up and dancing for an audience. She was never scared.”

  “A born performer.”

  “She is. But this was a sideline, something she did after going to school. It wasn’t her whole life. I can’t believe she’d be happy if she had nothing else.”

  She thought Cynthia needed to find that out for herself. The longer Luke stood in her way, the more she’d be convinced that dancing was exactly what she wanted.

  “You don’t agree with me.”

  “Actually, I don’t disagree. You could be right that she’s glamorized this life and has no realistic idea of how she’d feel if she lived it.”

  Luke turned to her. “Then help me get her to see that!”

  She gazed into his eyes as the lights from the Strip flowed past, painting their faces in every color of the rainbow. “I don’t think that’s possible right now. I think she can only find that out if she tries it.”

  “Sure it is. She won’t listen to me because I’m her overbearing big brother and she thinks I don’t understand. But you don’t have a vested interest like I do.”

  “Not specifically, but in a general sense, I’m invested in how this turns out for her. She’s an adult woman who deserves to make her own choices, wrong-headed though they might be.”

  “So I’m supposed to stand by and let that happen?”

  “Yes, you are.” She turned to him. “In reality, she shouldn’t have to coax you into agreeing with her, although that’s what she’s attempting to do with these riddles and tricks. She should just do it. But she loves you and doesn’t want to cause a rift.”

  He groaned. “I don’t want a rift, either.”

  Hearing the pain in his voice caused her to speak more gently. “Did you open the enve
lope you got at the Bellagio?”

  “Not yet. Left it in the suite. There’s only so much of this I can take at one time. The pictures are bringing up all kinds of memories, times when the family was all together. Her recital nights were special times. I—” His cell phone chimed. “I’d better get that.”

  “Yes, you’d better.” While he was checking his phone, she took hers out and sent a text to Bryce. Stop the pranks. We all need to sit down and talk this out. She sent it off with no expectations, but a little hope.

  Luke put away his phone, too. “That was Mr. Thatcher. He says we have a little issue in the kitchen I need to handle, but while I do that, he’ll escort you up to the suite.”

  “Perfect.” She could use this chance to get better acquainted with the mysterious Mr. Thatcher.

  Jim pulled the town car smoothly into an underground garage and parked near an elevator. No sooner had Jim taken Giselle’s suitcase out of the trunk than Mr. Thatcher stepped out of the elevator.

  “I’ll take that, my good man.” Mr. Thatcher snapped the handle into place and gestured Giselle toward the elevator.

  Luke thanked his chauffeur and came over to join them. “So what’s going on in the kitchen?”

  “Some dispute over hours, I believe.” Mr. Thatcher frowned in obvious disapproval as he followed them into the elevator and pulled the bag in after him. “Apparently they were ready to start brawling in the midst of hot kettles and sharp knives. Dangerous, not to mention unseemly.”

  Luke sighed as he punched the button for the first floor. “My dad used to settle these things by telling everyone a joke.”

  “I hope you don’t feel you have to do that, sir.”

  “I would if I could, but that’s not my style.”

  “Then you should handle it in your own way.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Thatcher.” Luke handed the envelope with the picture to Giselle as the elevator stopped on the first floor. “If you wouldn’t mind taking that upstairs, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Of course.”

  “I shouldn’t be long.” He stepped out, turning back with a smile. “Mr. Thatcher will get you settled into your room.”