Vegas Vacation

by Clare Revell

  Tamlyn twisted her head to take in Blue Suit sitting next to her. “He’ll be here.”

  “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t drink alone. Let me buy you a drink.”

  Tamlyn shook her head. “No, thank you. I have one. And I have to be going.”

  His long fingers turned the beer mat over and over. “I insist. It’s just a drink, and we’re two Brits alone in a foreign country…”

  She sighed. Which part of no didn’t he understand? Maybe if she had one, then he’d go away and leave her alone. “Another water, please.”

  She drained the bottle of water and looked at the drink he handed her. She pushed the glass away. “That’s not what I asked for.”

  “You should drink it.” He gave it back to her.

  She pushed upright. “No, I should be going.”

  “I think you should stay.” He grabbed her hand.

  ****

  Martin exited the elevator, his anger growing with each step. The tracker in her phone put her in the hotel bar; at least she had the sense not to leave the building. He crossed the bar in five rapid strides, taking in the scene in one glance, cane grasped tightly in his hand. “Tamlyn!”

  He noted the guy in the ugly suit let go of her the instant he approached. Good. He didn’t want to have to spend the night doing paperwork.

  He slid his hand into Tamlyn’s. “It’s time to go.”

  Willingly, Tamlyn walked with him to the elevators. Just as well, he didn’t want to have this conversation with her in public. He pressed the call button and glanced at her. She didn’t look at all sorry. Her hand burned against his and he had to call on every ounce of professionalism he had, not to let his emotions get in the way of his job.

  Once in the elevator he let go of her. He stabbed the button for their floor and waited until the other occupants had left before speaking. “Is stupid your middle name? Or are you just incapable of following directions and not leaving the room?”

  She scowled. “Not like I didn’t tell you I was going. That bloke appeared, insisted on buying me a drink. I asked for water, which he didn’t get me. I tried to leave, he stopped me and then you arrived. Nothing happened.”

  “But it could have.” He walked her down the corridor to the suite and unlocked the door. “In you go.”

  Anger flashed in her eyes. “You’re sending me to my room? I’m not six.”

  “You’re acting like it. And evidently I need to take action.” He tugged her through the door, locking it behind him. “I want your key card.”

  Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “But—”

  Martin held out a hand. “Key. Now.”

  Tamlyn jerked the card from her pocket and slammed it against his hand. “Here. Happy, now?” She turned away. “I didn’t enjoy the show. I left. I was coming back.” Her voice was thick with tears.

  “You shouldn’t have gone in the first place.”

  “You don’t get it, do you?” She dropped to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees. “He’s dead, and it’s my fault.” Tears fell thick and fast and her shoulders heaved.

  He sighed and leaned against the wall, making no effort to comfort her. She needed to get the grief out of her system and the sooner the better.

  Finally, her tears slowed and her head fell to one side. He gently picked her up, his anger spent. “How can I protect you if you won’t let me?” He carried her to his room and, laying her on the bed, covered her with the comforter. He dragged a chair against the only door to the room and dropped onto it. At least here, he’d know where she was and she couldn’t leave without him knowing it.

  He pulled out his cellphone and dialed quickly. “Hey, Vance, it’s me. Did you get a chance to run that name? Daniel Haynes? He’s a Brit, staying at the Bellagio, room 2957. He’s been hanging around and—”

  Tamlyn’s phone rang. “Hang on one minute. Need to take this one.” He pulled the handset from her purse. “Lady Bradshaw’s phone. Sgt. Ames speaking.”

  “This is Lord Bradshaw. Why have you got my daughter’s phone?”

  Martin spoke honestly. “She’s sleeping.”

  “Right, well, tell her we’ll be with her by mid-morning. After that, your services will no longer be required.” The phone connection clicked off.

  Martin closed his eyes. She was his responsibility until his chief told him otherwise. Did these people not get that?

  It would be nice to get back to his normal routine.

  Why did the thought of not seeing her anymore bother him? She didn’t hide the fact she didn’t want him around, but when he touched her, something shot through him. She affected him like no one had in a long time, but it was pointless dwelling on it.

  Lady Bradshaw was way out of his league.

  7

  Tamlyn opened her eyes and shut them again with a groan. Memories of Blue Suit, and a very angry Martin filled her mind.

  “Good morning. How are you?” Martin didn’t sound angry this time.

  She opened her eyes. “Feel like an idiot.”

  “Good. Maybe you’ll think twice before disobeying me next time.”

  She glanced around. “This isn’t my room.”

  “No, it’s mine. You cried yourself to sleep in the hallway last night, and since this room only has one door, I thought it best you sleep here. I dozed in the chair. I got you the English breakfast. Sit up.”

  “Thank you.” She took the tray he handed her, her stomach gurgling at the smell of the fried food. He’d even ordered beans to go with it. She’d guess he only ordered pancakes for himself, though. She stabbed at the egg with a corner of the fried bread, sending the yellow yolk over the bacon. “Are you always this bossy?”

  “When I have to be. I’ve got the toxicology report. Raleigh had food poisoning, but the cause of death was anaphylactic shock.”

  Tamlyn paused eating mid-mouthful. “He’s only allergic to nuts.”

  Martin pulled the file over. “The levels in his blood were so high that he must have ingested a lot over several hours.”

  “Like I said, the only thing he had since leaving England was bottled water. He should have several bottles left in here somewhere.”

  Martin sat bolt upright, his brow creasing, then jumped to his feet. “That could be it.”

  Tamlyn twisted to face him as he started to search the room. “You think someone spiked the water?”

  “It’s possible. I’ll need to get it checked.”

  She dipped the fried bread into the egg yolk. “Are you allergic to anything?”

  “Only spoiled heiresses who can’t follow simple instructions.”

  “How dare you call me that? You come here and say that.”

  Martin smirked at her from the closet. “It’s the truth. You aren’t very nice at times. You speak and act before you think. The only person that matters is you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Take last night, for example. You storm out of here, do exactly what I told you not to do, and then go and get accosted in the bar.” He crossed the room, the packet of bottled water in his hand. “We all have to do things we don’t like or want. Part of being an adult is doing it without complaint. Something you seem incapable of doing.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You’re not sorry or you’d stop it.”

  “Don’t you presume to tell me what I mean,” she huffed.

  Martin raised an eyebrow. “See, you’re doing it again. This whole ‘I’m right, and everyone else is wrong’ attitude you’ve got. OK, so you hate having a bodyguard. I expect the President does, too, but he most definitely doesn’t complain about it in his online status.”

  “How did you...?” She looked at him in shock. Sure, she’d complained bitterly several times online, but didn’t think he’d ever find out.

  His reply was blunt. “I have my ways. This will be a lot easier on both of us if you play ball and let me do my job.”

  Tamlyn turned away, her face burning. Maybe he had a point. “OK.”<
br />
  “Thank you.” He perched on the edge of the bed. “Tamlyn, you mentioned a couple of days ago about becoming a Christian. Does your faith mean anything, or is that simply lip service, too?”

  She looked at him, the usual retort on her lips, but something in his eyes held her back from saying it. She looked down, lost for words. It was no concern of his, but she could hardly tell him that. Or acknowledge that he was right. “I…”

  He nodded. “Thought as much. Once you’re dressed, we’ll go take this to the lab and get it analyzed, because this is now a murder investigation and you’re officially in protective custody.”

  “Thought I was, anyway,” she muttered. She finished the plate of food in silence. “You said we could go get more chips today. Or are you going to prevent me from doing that?”

  Martin frowned. “What part of murder investigation do you not understand?”

  Tamlyn scowled back. “But we’ll be on the move. The whole world knows I’m in Vegas, remember? And which hotel…” She broke off as his scowl deepened. Backtracking fast, she tilted her head and studied him. “Besides, according to what Dad said, you’re meant to be brilliant at your job and you did promise…I won’t leave your side for an instant and I’ll do what you tell me, when you tell me, and how you tell me.”

  Martin did that cute rolling his eyes thing as she tossed his words back at him. “First I call the captain, and next, we go to the lab. Then, and only if the captain agrees not to charge you with murder, we’ll go find some more chips for your collection.”

  “Charge me with what?” she managed, horrified.

  “You’re the only person Raleigh had contact with here in the US before he got sick. You keep saying his death is your fault.”

  For once, she didn’t have a reply. “I’ll go shower while you’re on the phone.” She stood and grabbed one of the bottles of water from the packet. She checked the seal, opened it, and took a long mouthful.

  “What are you doing? Are you stupid?” he yelled, pulling the bottle away from her mouth. “Or do you have a death wish? What if that’s poisoned?”

  She spat the water into the flower vase on the side. “It would be poison to him. I can taste nuts.”

  ****

  Tamlyn glanced at Martin as they waited for the valet to bring the car around. His words spun around her mind, making her feel horrible. “Martin? Am I really that bad?”

  “Honestly? Yes, you are. You say you want to be treated like an adult, but then you throw a tantrum when you don’t get your own way.”

  “So, what do I do?”

  Martin took a deep breath. “Don’t argue all the time. If someone says jump, then jump. You might be surprised by the result.”

  “So if Dad tells me to go home, then I go home?”

  He tilted his head. “Yeah. But not until this investigation is over.”

  “And if he says go jump under a train, then I go jump under a train?”

  Martin laughed. “I can’t see him doing that, because someone would have to jump after you.”

  She took a deep breath. “To be honest, what you said made me think, and I’m not that nice, am I? And I was pretty horrid to you. I’m sorry.”

  “How about we start again?” He stuck out a hand. “Hi, I’m Martin, and I’ll be your bodyguard for the duration of your stay.”

  Tamlyn took his hand, warmth running though her. “Hi, I’m Tamlyn, and I’m a spoiled brat of an heiress who wants to change for the better.”

  He waved the bottled water at her. “Let’s drop this off at the lab.”

  “You think it’s the water?”

  “I think it’s a good possibility. Especially since the bottle you opened tasted odd. Do you still have that?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. It’s here.” The car came, and she got in. Glancing in the mirror as she shut the door, she saw a huge limousine pull in behind them. It must be someone important. The driver got out and moved to open the back door of the car. Her eyes widened as she recognized the person disembarking.

  No. Her heart stopped as someone else got out. She raised a hand to shield her face.

  “Something wrong?”

  “No. Sun’s in my eyes.” She lied and for the first time in a long time felt a twinge of guilt.

  Tamlyn twisted back to Martin. If he was right and it was murder, then being with her dad might be dangerous. Right?

  She even lied to herself... “Protective custody means staying with you, doesn’t it?”

  “Not letting you out of my sight.” Martin pulled away from the front of the hotel. “I even removed that pile of books of yours from the bathroom.”

  Not even his joke could raise a smile.

  Tamlyn gazed out of the window as he drove. What bothered her was simply the thought of never seeing Martin again.

  ****

  The train stations turned out to be casinos on each of the four sides of the city and had nothing to do with trains at all. Tamlyn took photos and picked up chips from each of them. By the time they’d done the fourth, she felt a lot better. “Can we find someplace to eat, Martin? I need a drink, if nothing else.”

  He checked his watch. “Sure, we’ve got a few minutes before the lab results are due. What do you want?”

  “Take me to a supermarket. I fancy a picnic. You can phone the lab while I shop.”

  He frowned. “I know the perfect place. I’ll stand outside and make the call, but you’ll be in my field of vision the entire time.”

  She nodded, not admitting she actually felt safe with him around. “That’s fine.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Tamlyn came out of the tiny grocery store and gazed in dismay at the weather. So much for the sunshine. Thick clouds piled up in the sky, dark black and ominous.

  Martin smile lit the darkness. “All done?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Could almost feel you watching me the whole time.”

  “That’s all part of the service.” His hand touched her back again as he guided her to the car.

  She climbed in as the first drops of rain fell. She put the bags by her feet as he shut her door and ran around the other side. “Did you get hold of the lab?”

  Martin nodded, starting the car. “The bottles were laced with peanut essence. There is no doubt someone murdered him.”

  “Why? To make me go home?”

  “Or to get him out of the way so they could get to you.”

  She tapped at the raindrops on the other side of the glass. “What good would that do? The title dies with Dad.”

  “Are there no other relations that you know of? No one waiting in the wings to inherit?”

  She shook her head. “Just me. So where are we going?”

  Martin drove along the road, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Mount Charleston, a half hour drive. Nice place to hike and lovely views of the city and the desert. Not many people, except the rangers. And a great place for me to think about the next step.”

  8

  Tamlyn laughed as Martin parked the car in the pouring rain. “Loving the views already. Can’t wait for the hike.”

  He wrinkled his nose at her. “We can find a restaurant if you prefer.”

  “Nah. We had picnics in the car all the time as a kid. Kind of had to, it rains a lot in England.”

  “So I’ve heard. Cold, wet, damp, and rains all the time.”

  She giggled. “Actually we have three types of weather in England. It’s either raining, about to rain, or just finished raining.”

  Martin turned the engine off, leaving the air con on to stop the windows misting up. “You’re silly.”

  “And don’t you forget it.” She grinned at him.

  “I’ll say grace first.” He took hold of her hand, his gentle touch sending shards of warmth through her. For an instant, she wished he’d hold her hand because he wanted to, not simply because that’s the way he always prayed the blessing.

  They ate watching the rain beat down on the windscreen.

  Lightning li
t the sky as Martin looked at Tamlyn. “This is not your typical summer’s day.”

  Thunder echoed across the mountainside above them. “Lovely weather for ducks, though.”

  Martin raised a hand to her face, wiping something off the corner of her mouth. “You made a mess with the mayo.”

  “Did I?”

  He nodded, holding her gaze. “Has anyone told you how attractive you are?”

  Tamlyn did a double take. He said what? “Not when I’m covered in mayo, they haven’t.”

  “Especially when you’re covered in mayo.” He winked at her.

  Tamlyn shook her head. “Tease. You really do know how to say the most romantic things. Not. And while we’re on the subject, you’re not bad looking yourself.” She shifted sideways so she could lean against the window and study him.

  Lightning flashed again, the thunder following almost immediately.

  Martin glanced out of the window. “This will definitely be something to tell the grandkids,” he said, changing the subject. “A car picnic in a thunderstorm.”

  “Talk about getting ahead of yourself.” Tamlyn laughed. “You’re working. We’re not even going out, never mind engaged or married, and you’re talking about grandchildren?”

  He shrugged. “I never said our grandkids.”

  “So these hypothetical grandkids of yours. They have to come from somewhere. How many kids do you want? Assuming you find a woman prepared to put up with you.”

  “Hypothetically speaking? Four, at least.” He grabbed the box of fresh fruit pieces from the dash and fed her a strawberry. “Maybe six.”

  “Six?” she managed around the fruit. “Is that women or kids?”

  “Kids. Hmmm, let’s see. Maybe three of each, with two years in between them.”

  “You got it all planned, mister.” Tamlyn shoved a strawberry in his mouth to shut him up. “And that’s twelve years in total. You’d better go find a woman and start now.”

  He chewed and swallowed as lightning flashed again. “Not gonna happen. I’m not husband material.”