Vegas Vacation

by Clare Revell

  Tamlyn took a long look at the impeccably dressed man standing there. “My name’s Lady Bradshaw. I’m staying in the Grand Lake suite.”

  Mr. Wilson tapped on the computer. “What seems to be the problem?”

  “Two nights ago, Daniel Haynes from room 2957, and a couple of other men, took my key and threw me out of my suite. I didn’t say anything as I hoped to resolve it myself. All my clothes and possessions are still there—including a very expensive family heirloom.” At least she hoped that’s where it was.

  Mr. Wilson glanced at the computer. “What can I do to help?”

  “I’ll pay for the three nights I stayed here and then find alternative accommodation elsewhere. They can pay the rest of the bill.”

  “I can try to have them evicted.”

  Martin pulled out his ID. “Sgt. Ames, Vegas PD. I’d like you to do more than try, Mr. Wilson. Lady Bradshaw has made a complaint and also reported the necklace stolen. I’d like this sorted out as expeditiously as possible, before the press hears about it. No bad publicity for the hotel that way.”

  Mr. Wilson nodded. “Of course.” He grabbed the phone. “Get me security to the lobby.”

  Tamlyn glanced at Martin as he put away his ID.

  “I will have this cleared up in no time, Lady Bradshaw. Do you still wish to settle the account? If you wish to remain here, I wouldn’t charge you for the nights so far and take fifty percent off the remainder of the bill.”

  Tamlyn exchanged a long glance with Martin and nodded. “OK, thank you.”

  Mr. Wilson turned to speak with the security guards who appeared at the desk. After a moment, he turned back to Tamlyn. “If you give us a couple of hours to clean the room, Lady Bradshaw, I’ll issue you with a new key.”

  “Thank you. I’ll leave it in your capable hands.”

  He nodded. “I really am very sorry about this. It won’t happen again.”

  Tamlyn headed away from the desk, brushing her hands together. “That’s that sorted. Can we go and get some more chips, now? This is meant to be a holiday after all.”

  ****

  Martin held open the door of the rental car for Tamlyn.

  She grinned at him as she slid into the passenger seat. “That’s the most fun I’ve had in ages.”

  “Ten casinos are fun?” He didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm. “You Brits sure have a weird definition of fun.”

  “My feet don’t think so, but I do.” She slipped off her shoes and rotated her feet, first one way then the other. “Sometimes being a daft English tourist pays off. Did you notice how they always look for the really decent chips for me? Where to next?”

  Martin returned her grin. Despite his reticence and need to keep her safe, her enthusiasm for this crazy escapade was infectious. “Dinner back at my apartment. Only this time, I’m cooking.”

  She turned her attention to the window as he drove. “Do you want a hand?”

  “No. You can sit and supervise.”

  Surprisingly, Tamlyn did exactly that, watching as he tossed meat and spices into the pan. “You could always become a chef.”

  Martin laughed. “You haven’t tasted it yet. Laura hated my cooking.”

  “Told you before and I’ll tell you again. Laura’s an idiot.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at her. “How do you know she wasn’t right?”

  She stood behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, and leaned against him, the warmth of her body shooting through him, curling around the pit of his stomach, straight to his core.

  Her breath was warm on the back of his neck. “Why do you have such a low opinion of yourself?”

  “I don’t,” he said, with every ounce of indignation he could muster.

  “I beg to differ, but you do.” She caressed his stomach, her hands sliding slowly over him. “You are one great bloke.”

  Martin stiffened beneath her fingers. He caught his breath. Did she have any idea what she was doing? This wasn’t fair. She wanted more than he could give her. He wasn’t a robot, even if his body wouldn’t co-operate with him. He was half a man and he hated it. “Tam, don’t,” he managed, his voice husky and taut with emotion.

  “Honestly your scars aren’t that bad. Actually, they’re kinda sexy.” Her fingers slid under his tee shirt, running across the raised flesh.

  He grabbed her hands and pulled them away, spinning to face her. “Tamlyn, that’s enough,” he snapped, unable to take any more.

  “Sorry.” She backed away, her eyes glistening. “I’ll…uh… go wash my hands before we eat.”

  He watched as she ran from the room, the door slamming shut behind her. He closed his eyes, his hands going to his stomach where hers had been. He wished things were different, but they wouldn’t be. He could never give her what she wanted. The sooner this was over, the better, for both of them.

  Because being this close to her, loving her the way he did, and being unable to act on it, was torture, pure and simple.

  ****

  Tamlyn locked herself in the bathroom, grateful he hadn’t stormed after her. She hadn’t been expecting that reaction. He’d eased up towards her, been laughing and joking and enjoying her company. She was only trying to show him how little his scars mattered. She thought if she touched them, showed him that they didn’t matter, that maybe he’d be more comfortable with himself.

  She loved him. She wanted him. Yes, he’d said married in name only, but he’d married her properly. In a church. Or kind of a church. With his family there. So he must love her, too. Or not. What had she done for him to keep pushing her away?

  Tears burned her eyes as she leaned against the door, trying to regain her composure. I’ll eat, then go back to the hotel, pick up my stuff and go to Aunt Agatha’s in Headley Cross. Perhaps she’ll want me.

  She pulled her phone from her pocket and rang the airline. They had a non-stop flight to London Gatwick leaving at six thirty the following morning. She took the last first class seat they had, not caring how much it cost. From London she’d take a train to Headley Cross. She splashed water on her face and then took a deep breath.

  Don’t let him see he upset you, Tam. Put on that poker face you’ve perfected over the years and treat him like the rest of the hired help. After all, that’s what he seems to want.

  Back in the kitchen, Martin put the plates on the table. “Are you OK?”

  “I’m fine.” Tamlyn sat at the table and pushed her chair in. After Martin said grace, she picked at her food, getting no enjoyment out of it.

  When he’d finished, Martin stood. “I’ll take you back to the hotel. See if you’ve got your suite back.”

  She nodded. If they were in her suite, it’d make leaving unseen easy. “At least you won’t have to sleep on a chair tonight.” She pulled off his grandmother’s engagement ring and set it on the table. “You should have this. I don’t want to lose it. I’ll get my bag and we can go.”

  Shock resonated in his eyes before he covered it. “Keep it for now. Not like you’re going anywhere. We’d only extradite you back here if you did.”

  “Of course, you would,” she muttered. She shoved the ring back onto her finger. She’d leave it by his wallet before she left in the morning.

  Martin drove back to the Bellagio without saying a word, for which Tamlyn was grateful. It made life considerably easier. Because every second she spent in his company her heart broke a little bit more.

  Tamlyn and Martin crossed the lobby to the reception desk, where she smiled at the duty manager. “Mr. Wilson. I trust there were no problems.”

  “No problems, Lady Bradshaw. Here is your new keycard.”

  “Thank you.” She headed to the lift.

  A commotion behind made her turn. Two armed men wearing ski masks stood at the desk.

  Martin drew his weapon. “Get up to the suite, now. And call 9-1-1 on your way.” He moved towards the desk, gun raised and ready to fire. “Police, put your weapons down.”

  Not wanting to leave
him, Tamlyn stood still, fumbling for her phone. A hand clamped over her mouth at the same instant a strong arm wrapped itself around her. She struggled.

  “Not so fast, your ladyship,” Daniel hissed in her ear. “You’re coming with us.”

  Tamlyn struggled as he dragged her to the lift. She bit his hand, and sucked in a deep breath as the bloke cursed. “Martin!” she screamed in the second her mouth was clear.

  There was a gunshot. The last thing she saw before the doors closed was Martin falling to the ground. Don’t let him die, Lord. Keep him safe.

  15

  Loud voices jarred Martin’s tortured senses as he sat inside an ambulance in front of the hotel entrance. A paramedic flashed a light in his eyes and fired a dozen questions at him.

  “Martin?” Vance climbed up and looked at him worriedly. “You OK? They said you’d been hurt.”

  “I took one of the gunmen out, just before the other hit me with something. I need to make sure Tam’s OK. I sent her up to the suite once I saw the gunmen.”

  “She’s missing.”

  “What?” Martin struggled to his feet, only for Vance to push him down again.

  “A witness saw a guy in a ski mask pull her into the elevator. Lord Bradshaw is also missing. The raid on the desk was to get your attention away from Tamlyn. Half of Vegas PD is out looking for them and the other half is studying surveillance images. You sit still until you’re cleared.”

  Martin rubbed the back of his head. God, keep her safe. “I should have taken her to the suite, not played the hero.” He looked at Vance. “I can’t lose her.”

  “If she means that much to you, then talk to her. Trust me, she loves you. Peggy looks at me the same way Tamlyn looks at you.”

  “You know I can’t do that. Even if I wanted to…there are very good reasons why I can’t.”

  “Stop making excuses and hiding behind your burns. You’ve done that for long enough.” Vance turned to the uniformed cop coming across. “What’ve you got?”

  “Car’s been traced to a small house on the other side of town.”

  Martin struggled up. “Then let’s go.”

  “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “Vance, I’m going. And you’re driving.” He followed Vance out of the hotel to the car. I can’t lose her, Lord. Tam does more than press the right buttons for me. I’m head over heels in love with her. The problem is, getting involved with her isn’t fair to her. She needs a real man, one who could love her the way a man should love a woman, not half a man like me. Give me the strength to deal with whatever You want from this relationship.

  Martin got in the car, automatically checking to make sure his gun was in its holster. Keep her safe. Let us find her.

  ****

  Tamlyn sat in the car, tears filling her eyes under the hood. She had duct tape over her mouth and her hands were bound. She should have listened to Martin, but now it was too late. The engine stopped. Daniel pulled her from the vehicle and dragged her up a path. Doors rattled, and as the heat vanished, she knew she was inside somewhere.

  Daniel removed the hood and shoved her hard. She fell, landing on her hands and knees. She blinked hard in the bright light, catching her breath. Shiny black shoes moved into her field of vision. She ran her eyes up the tailored trousers, past the impeccably ironed shirt, waistcoat and open jacket, to the gun pointed at her. Garth?

  He pulled her to her feet and dragged her to the table. Her father was already there. Garth pushed her into a chair next to him. He ripped the tape from her mouth and then sat opposite them, the gun still in his hands. “Now I have your full attention, we can get a few things straight.”

  Lord Bradshaw looked at him. “This doesn’t concern Tammy. You let my daughter go.”

  Garth snarled. “She isn’t your daughter, you know that…Dad.”

  “What do you mean?” Numbness filled Tamlyn.

  “Did my mother mean so little to you? A year-long fling and then you marry Tamlyn’s mother, a woman who cheated on you for years.”

  “Tell him it’s not true, Dad.” Tamlyn tried to stand, but was pushed down.

  She looked at her father. “Dad?”

  Lord Bradshaw didn’t answer.

  Garth laughed. “She is not your daughter and he is not your father. I lodged papers proving I am the only heir to the Bradshaw title and estate with the estate lawyers. They want a paternity test done…on both of us.”

  Lord Bradshaw scowled. “If you think you’re getting your hands on my money, Garth, you’re mistaken. Tamlyn’s share is in a trust fund for her, always has been. You can’t touch that, no matter what the lawyers say.”

  “Wanna bet?”

  Tamlyn twisted in her chair. “Is he telling the truth? Was Mum unfaithful to you? Am I your biological child?”

  “No…”

  “Yes, she was and no, you aren’t.” Garth slammed his hand down on the table. “I’m your firstborn—your only child.”

  Lord Bradshaw shook his head. “Only children born in wedlock can inherit a title. So even if you are my son, it makes no difference. Tammy may be adopted, but she is my only heir. The title dies with me.”

  Garth pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “This is a copy of your new will which you wrote last week and lodged with your lawyers. In it, you acknowledge I am your firstborn son and leave everything to me. And your lawyer will swear to it. Of course. Daniel, my half-brother, gains her money on his marriage, and thus between us we own your whole estate. The way it should have been from the beginning.”

  Lord Bradshaw shook his head, tearing up the papers. “I’ll deny it, Garth. You’ll get nothing from me.” He looked at Tamlyn. “Tammy, I’m sorry.”

  “Then you leave me no choice...Dad.” Garth raised the gun and fired.

  “Dad!” Tamlyn screamed, her hand flying to her mouth as her father slumped across the table, blood spilling in an ever widening pool.

  Garth smirked at her, the gun swinging up to point at her head. Papers appeared in front of her. “Now the only thing standing between me and my birthright, is you. Sign over the trust fund to me.”

  Tamlyn stared down the barrel of the gun. What do I do? He’ll kill me once I’ve signed it. What would Martin do? “OK, but you need to untie my hands.”

  Garth frowned. “What’s the catch? You never just agree to anything.”

  “I don’t want anything to do with the estate. I never have.” The second her hands were free, Tamlyn signed the papers. As Garth picked it up, she jumped to her feet and upturned the table, knocking him over. She whirled around and kicked Daniel, doubling him over in pain. She ran to the door. Garth grabbed for her and she kicked out again.

  He flew backwards into the wall, hitting his head hard and sliding down to the floor. Tamlyn grabbed her bag from where she’d dropped it and ran out of the door, Daniel right behind her.

  Slamming the door in his face, Tamlyn hurtled down the steps. She lost her footing and slipped on the gravel path. Landing heavily, she cried out as sharp stones dug into her hands and knees. Grunting, she pushed herself up and ran as fast as she could. A cab passed and she flagged it down, thanking God for the fact it was there and stopped. She climbed in. “The airport…” She’d go to her aunt’s as planned. There was nothing left for her here.

  As the cab turned onto the main road, a massive explosion behind them sent smoke and flames mushrooming into the sky.

  16

  Martin gazed at the blazing house. His heart sank, knots curled in the pit of his stomach and he felt physically sick. Please, God, don’t let history repeat itself. “Is this it?”

  Vance nodded. “Yeah.”

  Martin ran to the path. “Tamlyn!”

  Vance grabbed him and pulled him back. “Let the fire department handle it.”

  The heat stung his eyes, making them water. The stench of burning flesh assailed his nostrils as the popping, crackling roar of the flames filled his ears. Thick black smoke billowed upwards.

  De
spair flooded every fiber of his being. He tried to pull free. “You have to let me go.”

  “There’s nothing you can do.” Vance pulled him back as three fire trucks arrived. “Let me take you to the hospital, get that lump on your head checked—”

  “No, it doesn’t hurt. I’ll wait in the car.” He pulled free and trudged over to the vehicle, his heart breaking as it pounded in his chest. He sat in the passenger seat, his fingers running over his wedding band. He couldn’t lose her, not before he’d had a chance to explain. Not before he’d told her he loved her.

  Three hours passed before the fire was out. Martin exited the car and crossed over to the smoke-blackened fire chief, Nick Jefferies, who stood talking to Lt. Wagner from homicide. “Well?” he demanded. “What did you find?”

  “It’s arson. We found three bodies in there. Along with this.” Jefferies held out a burned and charred photo ID. Half of Tamlyn’s face remained visible.

  “No...” Martin turned away, heaving, losing the coffee he’d drank.

  “Is this the first fire he’s done since he was injured?” Jefferies asked.

  Vance put a hand on Martin’s shoulder. “That’s his wife’s ID.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  Lt. Wagner frowned. “Wife? Isn’t that the woman he’s protecting?”

  Vance jerked his head. “Long story, best saved for later.”

  Martin wiped his hand over his mouth. “I want to see the bodies.”

  Jefferies shook his head. “I’m sorry, Martin, but the only way to ID any of them is going to be dental records.”

  “I don’t even know which one in the UK she goes to.” He sucked in a deep breath. He’d promised to keep her secret, but they had to know. “Tam has one of those partial plates. Her front left tooth is false.”

  “I’ll make sure the coroner knows.”

  Jefferies handed Wagner a bagged gun. “This was by one of the bodies.”

  “Thanks. I’ll get ballistics on this.” Wagner took the bag. “I’ll tell the coroner to rush the autopsies.”