White Lies (Book 1)

Chapter 36

Chapter 36

"To the beautiful lady in red – I have a card here with your name on it!"

I knew that he was speaking to me before he'd even opened his mouth. The street performer had had his eyes set on me from the very beginning – watching me as I darted out of the hotel lobby and onto the streets.

I smiled thinly as a vague attempt at politeness, needing to push my way through the overwhelming Las Vegas Strip crowds and get as far away from the magician as possible. The bedazzling Bellagio fountains displayed their dizzying, colorful show for the delighted crowd to see. Lovers holding hands and taking pictures, parents with their screaming kids in tow, the homeless with signs dangling from their necks – the dry desert night was vivid with activity.

And I was completely alone.

But not anymore – the street performer followed me as I tried to skirt around him, pushing through a huge crowd of loitering tourists. And to my utter surprise, he had abandoned his trick and his half-interested crowd entirely. Now he was actively pursuing me. Of all the things I had to deal with that night, this stalker was certainly the least of my worries. Chagrined, I turned swiftly away and tried to hurry my steps.

"Hey, lady! I need to tell you something!"

Don't take the bait. Don't turn around, I told myself sternly. This was obviously a trap – and as I was quickly discovering, there wasn't a single thing in Vegas that hadn't been designed to trap and ensnare every poor, unwitting fool who happened to be just a little too unlucky.

I was that poor, unwitting fool. I had been trapped in this nightmare before the plane had even landed.

"See, what did I tell you? Customs was a breeze," Nathan had whispered in my ear during our quiet car ride to the hotel. And by car, I meant a very sleek and expensive service car. And by hotel, I meant the Buckingham Palace in drag and on steroids. The Las Vegas Strip zipped past us through the car windows, illuminating us in the fluorescent glow of the outside world. A non-stop carnival built upon desert sand dunes.

What Nathan had meant was that the woman who greeted us aboard the private jet – a woman by the name of Julie – was the customs officer tasked with inspecting our belongings and various forms of identification. Or rather, she actually simply asked us about our luggage.

"Have you brought any luggage with you?"

"No, ma'am," I answered, swallowing nervously. "Just a few carry-on bags." I clenched my fists and waited for the ball to drop. Any minute now, my overnight bag would split open and reveal the hidden gun for the world to see. Then I would be promptly arrested, and my mother would have to see my face on the news for a second time that year.

Instead, Julie had given me a satisfactory nod. "Very good. Well, I hope you both enjoy your stay here. I'd recommend you try SushiSamba at the Palazzo – they boast a great selection of food and an excellent ambiance."

My jaw must've dropped to the floor, because as soon as Julie was off the plane and out of sight, Nathan had immediately lapsed into hysterics.

"Hey lady! Wait!" The street magician protested, trying in vain to catch me before I disappeared out of sight. He grabbed my wrist to prevent me from melting into a drunken crowd of women wearing penis crowns. A bachelorette party.

"What?" I snapped back. Checking my pockets to see if anything had been swiped. Not yet.

He was panting – from up closer, he seemed a little overweight and very out of breath. "There was a guy – out there at the front of the Bellagio—"