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“My base rate is two grand an hour or six grand for an overnight. If you want more than a basic dinner and drinks date, it goes up depending on how… exotic you want to get.”
He hums. “What if I want to take you to a BDSM club?”
I shake my head. “Not in Las Vegas. I have to be very careful what I do in Vegas.” I can’t believe I’m even agreeing to step foot in that city again.
He chuckles. “What if I owned the club?”
That piques my interest. He owns a BDSM club? While I’ve been to a number of swinger clubs and strip clubs, I’ve only ever been to one kink club in London called Serendipity. It was gorgeous and a lot classier than I imagined it would be. The client who took me there turned out to be not so classy. I shudder as I remember the depraved things he wanted to do to me. Luckily, the club was staffed with people who recognized my distress and helped me out of the situation.
He brushes my hair out of my face. “I’ll give you a hundred grand for a week. If it’s still not safe, I’ll double that the second week.”
Two weeks to make three hundred grand for lying low in a swanky resort in Vegas? I would be an idiot to turn that down. Right? It won’t even be hard to avoid the people in Vegas that make me hate it so much. If I’m hiding out, they won’t even know I’m there.
“Fine. But I want my phones back and I have to have the first week’s payment up front. If I’m going to break my dates for the next two weeks, I need to start making calls.”
He shook his head. “Not until we get to Vegas. We’ll be on a plane in two hours or less. Where are your things?”
I blow out a breath. “Most of them are in France. I was headed there after what was supposed to be a one-night trip to New York. My travel bag is in your cousin’s room.”
“Fucking hell,” he curses. “Are there any identifying items in that bag? I’m sure the police are probably searching it now and will want to know where you are.”
Damn it. That hadn’t even occurred to me. I tried to think of what might be in that bag. Safety is important to me, and I’m not stupid enough to leave documents in a client’s hotel room, so my passport is tucked into my small purse along with two IDs.
“I’ve got a Kindle. My Amazon account would lead back to me.”
He closes his eyes. “Fuck. Pop, you need to make the call and get that room cleaned before the cops get there.”
Jamie Bowden nods. “It’s already done. I don’t know why you’re so worried about Zara. She’s not part of the family.”
“No offense,” he says, glancing at me.
I don’t respond. It’s a sentiment I understand all too well. A half hour later, we get dropped off at another vehicle where Luke slides behind the wheel after escorting me to the passenger side and waiting for me to get in. Jamie stays in the limo, clearly headed somewhere else.
I consider trying to run, but I have no idea where we are and with no phone, I can’t just call an Uber and get picked up.
No. I’m stuck here with Luke Bowden until I can come up with a better plan.
Chapter 3
Luke
Mymindisspinningas I speed toward the airfield where a private jet should be arriving any time. Nothing about this trip has turned out like I thought it would. What am I supposed to do with Zara? First, I need to find out how she came to be connected to my cousin. If she’s part of the scheme to kill the mayor and frame Oliver, she’ll pay for her sins.
But if she’s not, she could be in danger just for being associated with him. That leaves me with a sense of dread I wasn’t expecting. She’s a stranger. There is no reason for me to care about the fate of this woman.
Bellamy, the office manager at the club, calls to let me know the plane is ready at the private airstrip we’re headed to, not too far outside the city.
My father must have sensed how important it was for us to get out of the city, because he didn’t say a word about me answering for Donovan’s death when we parted ways.
I’m not keen to be working closely with my family again, but I might not get a choice. As much as I prefer my brothers in Vegas, I’m not so heartless that I’ll abandon blood relatives. Especially not since they do provide a lot of business for us in Vegas. My phone rings and it’s my dad.
“Zara’s e-reader will be dropped off at the plane,” Jamie says when I answer. He hangs up before I can respond.
“Thank you,” Zara whispers when I relay the message. Suddenly, I miss having her in my lap in the back of the limo. But it was better for me to drive us to the airport so a driver couldn’t be talked to by the police to find out where we went. We need as much of a head start to Vegas as possible. I might make her sit in my lap the entire flight from New York to Las Vegas, though.
After several miles of silence, she says, “I’m not getting on that plane without a wire transfer. And we can’t do that without my phone.”
I hesitate. Transferring a hundred grand to Zara could look like a payoff for her part in murdering the mayor. I don’t trust it.
