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Chapter One
Jonas
I walk down the Las Vegas Strip, dodging tourists in cheap and brightly colored clothes with cameras slung around their necks. The homeless and the professional beggars, the wasters trying to sell copies of their latest demo, and all the rest of the life that happens here in Vegas.
It’s a hectic old town, but it’s my town. I slide through the crowds easily, knowing the quickest routes, knowing which lobbies are best to slip through as a shortcut and which ones should be avoided at all costs. I sidestep scammers and pickpockets, making my way down the strip towards the next casino I need to visit.
“Afterparty tonight?” One man says, trying to step into my path and offer me a leaflet promising free entry. “Ladies’ night, girls get two drinks for the price of one. Bring a friend.”
I dodge past him seamlessly, fighting the urge to roll my eyes simply because the motion might slow me down. I’m dressed in an expensive suit and carrying a briefcase – does he really think I’m the kind of person who would be interested in some cheap club tonight?
Besides – he can’t have been working the Strip for long if he doesn’t know I’m a local.
Up ahead, I catch sight of something through the parting stream of people. A glimpse of white. It’s a young woman in a white dress, her back to me. Something about her head looks familiar, even though that sounds crazy. Who would I know well enough to think I recognized them just from that – and not be able to figure out who they are?
As I get close, I can’t help but take her in. The patterned white sundress is fitted to her figure, making a shape that is definitely easy on the eye. I find my gaze traveling down to her ass, taking in her perfect globes before someone steps between us, and the spell is momentarily broken.
Not that it doesn’t come back the second I can see her again. Now she’s half-turned, her long blonde hair falling over her shoulder, allowing me a glimpse of her face. Blue eyes, big kissable lips, a dainty nose – why does she feel so familiar?
I don’t know what it is about her, but something about the way she looks sends a jolt of desire right down to the base of my cock. I don’t normally feel this – definitely not so strong that I end up stumbling, slowing down, watching her. Women buzz around me all day and every day. Vegas isn’t exactly a place for the shy and retiring. But none of them make me feel like this.
None of them have me stopping just down the street so I can get a longer look. Especially not on the way to a meeting.
I can’t tear my eyes away. In profile, I can also see her chest, her breasts pushing at the seams of her dress. I want to get my hands on those and I want it now. She has that classic hourglass figure, big chest, and round childbearing hips, and I can’t help allowing one momentary flash in my head of what she would look like bent over in front of me.
I don’t even know who this girl is, and I already want to make her mine. Who is she, that she can put me under this kind of spell before we even speak?
But a movement up ahead drags my attention away from her. I suddenly realize there are a few other men watching her, not just me. The three are like matching pieces from a set, slightly grubby, wearing grimy tracksuits and gold chains, hair cropped short. One of them is clutching a bunch of CDs in his hand, walking towards her with a predatory look in his eyes.
Oh, hell no. I’m not about to watch her become a victim.
Chapter Two
Savannah
I turn in all directions, trying to figure out where the heck I am and where I’m going. I thought it would be easy to navigate Vegas since everything is basically in one straight line, but it’s more complicated than it looks down on the ground. There are bridges and distracting novelty buildings and people all over the place, and roadworks blocking off parts of the sidewalk, and I can’t figure out where I’m supposed to go.
I think I was supposed to be there already, but I don’t see anything familiar. I’ve gotten so turned around. How did this happen?
“Hey, you lost?”
I look up to see a young man, maybe only a few years older than me, walking over. He’s dressed in a red hoodie, open over a plain white tee and a gold chain, and matching red sweatpants. He doesn’t look like the kind of person who I would go to for help back home – but then again, he did offer…
