Werewolf in Las Vegas

Chapter 9

Giselle was ready to whack Luke upside his incredibly thick skull. The odds against keeping a twenty-two-year-old from making bad choices were far worse than the odds against hitting a million-dollar jackpot on a one-armed bandit. But Luke, who was at least as focused as his sister, had decided that Cynthia had to finish her last semester and get that sheepskin, and apparently that was that as far as he was concerned.

There was a thin line, Giselle realized, between being focused and having tunnel vision. She suspected that Angus Dalton had been a very focused individual, as well, and he’d passed on that characteristic to both of his children. Now they were butting heads, each of them determined to outlast the other.

“At least there’s no envelope this time,” Luke said. “Maybe she gave up on that. I hope so, because I think we have duplicates of everything in the vault, but I’ve never made an inventory to be sure. Trusting any pictures to strangers is risky.”

“Maybe she’s willing to take chances if it can get her what she wants.” Giselle wished that he’d see how devoted Cynthia was to her art. If he allowed himself to see that, he might soften his position.

“The pictures aren’t going to change my mind, so she might as well quit finding clever ways to give them to me. It’s a waste of . . .” He stopped talking as a little blond girl about five years old walked toward them.

She wore a black leotard, white leggings, and pink sneakers. Her hair was pulled back into a bun, and a small tiara rested on her golden head. She was clutching a manila envelope.

Giselle scanned the crowd and saw a woman watching the proceedings very carefully. The woman held a black canvas tote with PAM RAU DANCE STUDIO lettered on it in neon pink. Everything about her alert stance signaled that she was this little tot’s mother and that she wasn’t about to let anything happen to her kid.

Once Giselle satisfied herself that the little girl was well chaperoned, she turned her attention to the drama unfolding in front of her. Luke had hunkered down so that he was on the same level as the child. The tenderness in his expression caught Giselle by surprise.

She hadn’t seen this side of Luke Dalton. He might talk tough and act macho, but apparently he could also be a total pushover. This cherub had him completely in her power.

She held the envelope in two hands, as if carrying a tray. “Are you Mr. Dalton?”

“I am.” He spoke with such gentleness that without her Were hearing, Giselle wouldn’t have caught what he’d said. “And who might you be?”

“I’m Ella. My mommy’s over there.” She turned to point, let go of one side of the envelope, and had to make a quick grab for it. “Whoops. Almost dropped it. The lady said to be very careful.” Her solemn blue gaze returned to Luke. “It’s a picture. She showed us it.”

“Tell me, Ella, is that lady still here?”

Ella shook her head, which made her tiara jiggle. She let go of the other side of the envelope to grab for it and would have dropped it entirely if Luke hadn’t slid his hand underneath.

“Thank you for holding it for me.” After adjusting her tiara with one hand, Ella clutched the side of the envelope again. “You can let go now.”

“Are you supposed to give it to me?”

“Yes.”

“Are you ready to do that?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“First I’m s’posed to tell you something.” She took a deep breath and blew it out again. Then she looked up and began to recite. “Dancing is good for people. People . . .” Her smooth little forehead wrinkled. “People are . . . very happy when they dance! There. That’s it. You can have the envelope now.” She shoved it toward him.

“Thank you, Ella.” Luke took it as if accepting a Nobel Prize. “And thank you for delivering the message.” He stood.

“It’s true!” Released from her responsibilities, Ella grew more animated. “Dancing is great!” She began hopping from one foot to the other. “My dance teacher, Miss Pam, she entered us in this dance contest, and we’re all here in Las Vegas, and this is what I wore, except I had to take off my ballet shoes so they wouldn’t get all dirty, and we’re having so much fun!” She jumped up and down and would have lost her tiara if she hadn’t clapped her hand to her head at the last minute.

“Time to go, Ella.” Her mother came over. “You delivered your message, so let’s leave this man and his friend in peace.”

“Okay.” Ella glanced up at Giselle as if noticing her for the first time. “Are you a dancer, too?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“That’s too bad. If you were a dancer, you could be in this contest. There’s a whole bunch of us. Even mommies are in this contest.” She swung her arms wide. “Wanna see me do something?” She placed one sneakered foot against her calf, balanced on her other foot, and put her hands together over her head. She wobbled only a little bit.

Giselle clapped enthusiastically. “Bravo!”

“That’s lovely, Ella,” her mother said. “Now we need to go. Everyone’s ready to leave.” She smiled at Luke and Giselle. “The woman who gave us the envelope showed us the picture. She said it was important that you get it back and that you’d understand what it was all about.”

“I do,” Luke said. “Your daughter is something else.”

The woman laughed. “Oh, yes. She is definitely a dancer! I swear she was dancing before she was born. I could feel her twirling around in there. Well, have a nice night.” Holding Ella’s hand, she walked away.

Luke stared after them. “My mother used to say that about Cynthia. That she could feel her dancing before she was born.”

Giselle chose to keep quiet. If that adorable little girl hadn’t turned the tables for Cynthia, nothing would. Anything Giselle said now might dilute the Ella effect.

After watching mother and daughter join a group of other parents herding a large group of girls in black leotards, Luke turned to Giselle. His expression was unreadable. “That must have been the grand finale of that stunt.”

“Guess so. Listen, I should find a cab and get back to Illusions.”

“My driver’s on his way. Let me drop you there.”

Refusing seemed unnecessarily abrupt. “All right.”

He hesitated. “If this is out of line, just say so, but when we’re together I feel like we’re a team. When you head off to your hotel, it’s as if the team’s broken up.”

“But Illusions is where I’m staying.”

“I understand that, but . . .” He glanced away in frustration, but when he looked into her eyes again, his gaze was completely open. “I’m going to level with you. I’ve had completely inappropriate thoughts about us, but that’s over.”

“I’m glad.” And she was, wasn’t she? If her heart started racing because he’d admitted he wanted her, she’d get over that inconvenient reaction. “This isn’t the time or place.”

“I realize that, so you have nothing to worry about from me. But the thing is, I’m more confident that Cynthia’s deal will come to a reasonable conclusion—”

“I don’t know what you mean by a reasonable conclusion.”

“Hell, neither do I. And that’s the point I’m trying to make. Talking it out with you, face-to-face, helps me sort out my thoughts. I didn’t realize how much I depended on your insights until you went back to Illusions. Like I said, it was as if the team had broken up.”

She took a calming breath. “What are you suggesting?”

“Check out of Illusions and stay in the penthouse.”

“No.” Her senses went on red alert. “That’s not a good idea.”

“The place is huge, even bigger than it looks. You’ll have your own room. But the main thing is, when there’s a new development, you’ll be right there. We can discuss it together.” His phone pinged and he glanced at it. “That’s Jim with the car. He’s pulling up now.”

But Giselle was no longer paying attention. She’d caught the unmistakable scent of her brother, and he was close, very close. “Luke, wait here.” Instinct kept her from mentioning that she thought her brother was mere feet away. She wouldn’t be able to explain how she knew, and maybe Bryce only wanted to connect with her, not Luke. “I’ll be right back.”

His blue gaze sharpened. “What is it?”

“A feeling. Stay here, okay?”

“But—”

“Please.”

“All right.” His jaw flexed. “I’ll text Jim and have him wait at the curb. He won’t be able to stay there long.”

“I won’t be long.” Turning, she searched the crowd going in and out of the Venetian. Then, following her nose, she headed toward a tall blond guy. Except he wasn’t a guy. He was Bryce.

He walked away, and she followed. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that Luke was nowhere in sight. She’d asked for his cooperation and he’d given it. She appreciated the effort that must have taken for a guy who liked to be in charge.

Bryce drew her deeper into the crowd, but at last he turned around and stopped. The blond wig was a good one. He looked sort of like Brad Pitt when the actor was younger.

Although he seemed to be alone, Giselle glanced around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Cynthia.

“She’s not here.”

She looked into her brother’s eyes, their green a shade lighter than hers. “Where is she?”

“Somewhere else. Listen, I don’t know how long before Dalton comes looking for you, so I’ll make this quick. He’s right. You’re a good influence on him. Cynthia loves the guy and wants him to be on board with her choices. The more time you spend with him, the better.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking. He’s . . . interested in me.”

Bryce laughed. “Of course he is. You’re a knockout. But he’s barking up the wrong tree, poor guy. I’m not worried about you. You can handle him. Cynthia reminds me of you, which is why I want to help her. Anyway, that’s all I wanted to say. I’d better go.” He turned.

“Wait.” She caught his arm. “Are you involved with her?”

He shook his head. “I wish I felt that way about her, because she’s cool, but I don’t. We’ve talked about it. No chemistry for either of us.” He shot her a quick grin. “Feel better?”

“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.