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She clicked the phone shut and dropped it into her purse before he had a chance to say goodbye. What a namby-pamby man he'd become. Things would have been different if she'd raised him. She'd have done it right. Once her plan came to fruition, she'd make up for that lapse.
When Sarah Jane had discovered Beth would be in Las Vegas for a national conference, the solution came to her immediately. A small-town girl gets taken down by big-city violence. It couldn't be any more perfect if Beth had planned her own death. She'd whispered the right words into the right ear at the law office and here she was, ready to put the final part of her plan into motion.
Stepping off the cobblestones onto the bright carpet of the casino, she tried to ignore the tackiness around her. God, she loathed Vegas. The bright lights and gaping tourists everywhere. Street people shoving escort advertisements into your hand as soon as you stepped outside your hotel.
She swallowed her distaste for this tacky cesspool because she deserved the money. No. She deserved her revenge. He owed her and it was time to pay. Two decades was a long time to wait for justice. And the look on his face when he realized what she’d done? That she’d caused his ultimate downfall? Priceless.
Sarah Jane dipped her hand inside the small side pocket of her gold brocade jacket and caressed the paper envelope, so small it could only hold the GHB. It had been so easy to steal it from Julie Hallerson’s medicine cabinet during a scrapbooking meeting. Julie wouldn’t miss a little of it, she’d had plenty of the prescription on hand to treat her fibromyalgia. Best of all, no one would be able to tie Sarah Jane to the drug if the plan went awry.
The hotel doors whooshed open in front of her and a blast of hot air landed heavy on her face. The valet opened the door of the waiting yellow taxi.
“Where to?” The driver's beady dark eyes watched her in the rearview mirror.
Time to get into character. She let her spine slouch to accentuate the curve in her upper back. Exhaling, she raised her eyebrows and curled her lips into an open, grandmotherly smile. The driver relaxed and smiled condescendingly.
“The Orion, please. My friend is having a celebratory dinner.”
And soon she'd be celebrating as well.
Chapter Nine
An hour after the company-sponsored dinner, Beth sat stone still on a couch inside Club Reaction, the world swerving around her in a blurry haze. Across the low bar table, Sandy, the estate attorney from Ohio, zoomed in and out of focus as she droned on about her latest case to a rapt audience.
The conversation filtered into her brain like a legal jargon game of Mad Libs. She clanked down her champagne flute on the small table in front of her harder than she’d intended.
A scantily clad buxom server appeared immediately at her side. “Would you like another glass?”
Beth’s stomach turned a few times. “No thanks. One's my limit.”
That must have been some champagne to have affected her so strongly. Closing her eyes to block out the scene spinning in front of her, she focused all her mental energy on taking slow and steady breaths. Relaxing back into the cushions, she let the sensual pleasure of the velvet against her bare legs spread throughout her body until she felt as if she could melt right into the couch. Really, would it be so bad to just let go like that?
A man's booming laugh—one she knew as well as her own—rang out over the crowd's noise and made her body vibrate with want. Her skin sizzled with anticipation. Like a woman in a dream, she accepted the inevitability of making that man hers.
She eased her eyes open and searched for the source of the laughter on the club's crowded dance floor. From her vantage point in the private seating area above the main bar, she scanned the fuzzy crush of barely clothed women and their muscle-bound, perfectly coiffed dates. A sea of faces moved in time with the music's staccato beat, but the laughing man wasn't among them.
Her palpable disappointment at not being able to find him confused her, scaring her into a moment of clarity. Something was seriously wrong. She'd had so much fun talking at dinner, she hadn't eaten much. Maybe the mixture of low blood sugar and a glass of champagne had submarined her.
Digging her short, unpolished fingernails into the palms of her hands, she fought for control. A sudden clammy sweat dampened the nape of her neck as she sought out a focal point to center herself. She picked Sandy's bright red lipstick, which stood out even in the club's dim light. With her gaze locked onto Sandy's mouth, everything stopped spinning and a heavy lethargy descended. Her eyelids drooped.
A tiny scream of panic echoed in Beth's head. She couldn't pass out in front of her colleagues.
She had to get out of here, go back to her room a few hotels down the Las Vegas strip and sleep it off before she humiliated herself in public.
This is why she hardly drank. She hated the out-of-control fuzziness of it all. But she'd only had one glass of champagne to celebrate the success of her lecture during the National Estate Attorneys Association's annual conference. Still, she felt as if she'd gulped down the whole bottle of bubbly like a sorority girl with a bottle of peach schnapps during pledge week.
She pushed herself upward into a standing position, fighting the inertia swamping her limbs. A wave of dizziness overwhelmed her. Beth threw her arms out in an attempt to counteract her wobbling knees and weaving upper body.
The unavoidability of her fall penetrated her hazy mind, spiking her heart rate.
She tilted toward the table littered with empty martini glasses, and before momentum swung her onto her face, a strong arm wrapped around her waist.
Relief noodled her limbs and she sagged into the solid chest behind her. A familiar woodsy scent teased her senses. A quick visual sweep of the area revealed everyone's attention remained focused on Sandy, her low-cut dress and her tale of estate-planning woe.
“Thhhhh-ank you.” Beth’s thick tongue slurred out the words.
“No problem.” Her white knight turned her around. “Let's get you back to your room, lightweight.”
Her heart skipped. Just when she thought she'd been saved from disgrace, fate laughed in her face and heaped mortification upon her.
