Asher’s eyes drifted shut for what felt like only a few seconds, but could have been longer, when one voice from the crowd somehow penetrated through the others.
“Oh, I’m sorry! Sorry. Oh, shoot! Sorry about that.”
He raised his eyelids slowly and turned toward the source of that almost panicked litany of apologies.
Messy hair, golden blond with streaks of light brown in color, a ridiculously huge sweatshirt weighing down what looked like a slight build, and jeans that, based on the frayed hems and torn pockets, had seen better days. This was the vision Asher saw spread out on the marble floor of the richly appointed lobby. The red-cheeked man was surrounded by toppled luggage and grumbling people. By the time Clumsy managed to get himself back onto his flip-flop-covered feet, the people had retrieved their fallen suitcases and walked away. Huge brown eyes blinked rapidly, creating a dazed expression on an intriguing face.
Asher got up and tugged at the sleeves of his crisp white button-down shirt, making sure it lay straight. Then he found himself following Clumsy through the casino and out the door. He stayed just a few steps behind. The streets were crowded in Vegas at any time of day, and this was no exception. Asher’s stony expression managed to deter the dozens of people shoving pamphlets at the tourists, but the man in front of him seemed to be gathering a collection, thanking every person who handed him a piece of paper. Okay, clumsy and polite. One pamphlet seemed to catch the man’s attention, because he stopped and talked to the solicitor.
“Do these run all the time?” Asher heard the timid voice ask. A nod was the only response the guy received and then the solicitor was off, handing out more pamphlets. Narrow shoulders slumped and Clumsy examined the piece of paper he was clutching carefully. He caught his bottom lip between his teeth and darted his head around before choosing a direction and walking down the Strip.
About twenty minutes and two outdoor escalator rides later, the man was walking back the way they came. Skinny arms shot into the air and fisted hands pumped excitedly as he approached a kiosk. Asher couldn’t hold back his smile as he watched the small man celebrate his victory in taking almost half an hour to locate a building that had been right behind him when he’d accepted the brochure.
If Asher didn’t know better, he’d think the man had taken the most circuitous route possible because he was trying to evade him. But there was no way Clumsy had noticed him. First off, Asher had been in law enforcement long enough to know how to tail a subject without being noticed. And secondly, the number of times the guy tripped indicated that he had enough difficulty being aware of his own limbs to be able to focus on anybody else.
After dropping his wallet not once, but two times and halfheartedly trying to chase after dollar bills that blew away, the man finally approached the kiosk. Asher tore his gaze away from Clumsy, which was incredibly difficult for no discernible reason, and looked up at the sign above the kiosk—Double Decker Bus Tours.
“I’d like a ticket for the next bus tour, please,” the quiet voice said to the salesperson. Asher heard a pause, a deep sigh, and then the man looked down and shifted from foot to foot. “Just one,” he croaked.
A bus tour. Asher thought it over and then shrugged. Why not? It wasn’t as if he had anything else going on. Not that this explained why he felt the urge to follow a stranger around Las Vegas, but he wasn’t in the mood for self-analysis. Besides, he didn’t have time. Clumsy had already walked away clutching his ticket and not looking at anything but his own feet. Asher needed to buy his own bus pass if he wanted to follow the man on what was sure to be the longest journey possible to the bus stop, which was adjacent to the exact opposite side of the kiosk from where Clumsy was headed.
As much as Asher enjoyed the impromptu tour of the Strip as the man he was tailing walked from Paris to Treasure Island, a quick glance at his gleaming metal watch told him that if they didn’t turn around, they’d miss the bus tour’s departure time. For a person who liked to arrive at airports at least two hours before takeoff, this was already cutting it close enough that Asher should have been well past frustrated and deep into ticked-off. But oddly, he didn’t feel either of those things. If anything, he was amused by the direction-challenged stranger. Still, amusing or not, the man clearly needed help or he’d never find the bus stop.
When his unwitting companion stopped on top of a walking bridge to buy a bottle of water from a vendor, Asher got a little closer, trying to come up with an opening.