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Zane chuckles. “I believe you.”
“Stop laughing at me!”
“Go on,” he says, though not unkindly. “Get out of here,Ms. Doe.”
I’m off in an instant. This man is dangerous, and I mean that in more ways than one. If he really did take on two of Esteban’s men all by himself, he’s clearly powerful. And the fact that he so easily caught me off guard is another reason to be concerned.
I need to put as much distance between us as possible and ignore whatever this feeling in my chest is telling me to wrap myself around him.
Chapter 4
Willow
Ido end up staying the night in Vegas, but at a different hotel at the very edge of the Strip. The smart thing to do would probably have been to hitchhike the hell out of Dodge, but I am exhausted and hungry. I doubt I’ll get very far if I’m sleep-deprived and starving to death. I figure I have at least a couple of hours before Esteban realizes the men he sent are missing and decides to send more.
A part of me wonders if Zane really did shove them down the trash shoot.
The seedy motel room I rent for the night costs me an additional twenty bucks. It’s the worst sleep of my life. The mattress is lumpy, the bed sheets questionably stained at the corners. A definite one out of five stars on Yelp. The second I see the sun peak in through the crack in the dingy curtains, I’m out of there faster than I can blink.
My stomach is a growling, cramping mess. I need food in me—stat. Thankfully, Las Vegas is practically a living, breathing smorgasbord. With half a dozen all-you-can-eat buffets within a ten-block radius, I’m about to help myself to a queen’s share of delicious food.
I walk into the first restaurant I come across. I’ve never been a particularly picky eater, and something aboutNana’s Greasy Spoon & Grillfeels right to me. A quick look at their menu posted outside and I know this is the perfect place to grab breakfast before hitting the road.
Apart from the hostess, nobody seems to notice me slip in through the front doors and make a mad dash to the buffet. I grab a plate and load up on fluffy scrambled eggs, silver dollar pancakes, sausage links, at least six whole strips of crispy bacon, and a generous helping of dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets meant for kids—because why not?
I tuck myself into a corner booth near the back of the restaurant, stuffing my face with table manners that would definitely earn me a scolding if I were back home. Except I’mnothome, I have to remind myself. My father isn’t here to breathe down my neck and micromanage every calorie to pass my lips.
Watch your waistline,he’d say to me at the tender age of eleven.Your future husband won’t want you to look and eat like a hippo.
Screw him. Screw all of them.
From here on out, I’m the kind of woman who eats whatever the hell she wants and loves her curves while she’s at it. So what if I’ve got a fuller chest and a nice pair of thighs to go with it? My father might have spent my formative years treating me like a doll to put on display, but for the foreseeable future, I’m a free woman. Nobody is going to tell me what to do ever again, and that is a promise.
“I can’t believe you tripled your money,” a man in the booth behind me says. “The odds are supposed to be against you when you bet against the house.”
“What can I say, Knox?” a second man replies, a playful smugness dripping from his tone. “I’m a lucky, lucky man.”
“Oh, Heath,” the voice of a woman coos. “I think we should splurge on an extra-large wedding cake. Don’t you think that would be fun?”
“Darlene, baby, I’ll buy youa thousandwedding cakes if it’ll make you happy.”
“You’re being impractical,” the first guy, Knox, grumbles under his breath.
“Andyouare being a stick in the mud. Ain’t that right, Zane?”
I freeze.
Surely, it’s a coincidence. It’s not exactly a common name, but I’m hopingthisZane and the one who kissed me last night aren’t—
“Leave me out of it.”
The deep, rich timbre of his voice makes the hairs on my arms stand on end. I can’t tell if the rush I feel is the result of my coffee or the natural adrenaline coursing through my veins. It’s him. Without a shadow of a doubt, it’s him.
What the hell is he doing here?
I make the mistake of turning to look at him. I’m not sure why I do it since my only focus should be self-preservation, but my body moves on its own. It’s drawn to him, this inexplicable pull I feel between us impossible to fight against.
Our eyes lock in an instant.
