“She’s a strawberry blonde. Tall. Long legs.”
“I don’t know anything about women, Mr. Baron.” The waiter’s tone had grown cautious. “All I do is deliver for room service.”
“Yeah. Well, thanks anyway.”
“Have a good day, sir.”
Shit. Gray stalked back across the room as the door swung shut. He’d certainly screwed that. Now the waiter figured the guy in Room 1664 was in the market for a hooker. For a man who made his living pinning witnesses to the chair with carefully worded questions, he was turning out to be one sorry-assed detective.
He poured himself a cup of coffee, added a dollop of cream and stood looking out the window. It was early, barely seven, but people were already sprawled on lounges arranged around the freeform perimeter of the pool. Nobody was actually in the water, though a large woman in a suit a few sizes too small was sitting on the edge.
Maybe he’d take a swim. Maybe he’d lie in the sun. Gray’s hand tightened around the cup. Maybe he’d fly back to New York, send Jonas a check and a note telling the old man that he could send some other sucker on this wild-goose chase.
“Dammit,” he said, and drank some of the coffee.
It wouldn’t be enough. Jonas had done him a favor he’d never asked for, he was stuck with repaying it, and he couldn’t do it with anything as simple as a check. The old son of a bitch was good at figuring people and he’d figured him to a T. The only way he could discharge this debt was by fulfilling his uncle’s request.
He could feel his mood going from miserable to rotten. Nothing had gone right, not from the minute he’d hit Las Vegas.
The woman he’d rescued had brushed him off faster than a broom whisked away dust. On a personal level, he didn’t much care. This town had two things in profusion: slot machines and good-looking women. She was no loss. It just pissed him off, the way she’d used first his muscles and then his car, and cut out without even telling him her name.
Gray refilled his cup.
As for finding Dawn Carter… He’d find her, all right. You could find anything, even a needle in a haystack, if you gave it enough time and effort. Any thoughts of cutting this little jaunt short were fast fading away. He’d walked through the hotel and the casino last night without spotting a woman who looked even remotely like Dawn. Admittedly the pictures he had of her were next to useless but still, he’d expected to be able to find some similarity. Her height. Her hair. Her eyes. He’d checked all the tables on the main floor as well as those in the special area set aside for high rollers on the assumption that Jack’s guy might have gotten it wrong. Maybe Dawn still worked them when she wasn’t providing those special services to special guests.
No luck. She wasn’t around.
The high stakes tables had been interesting, though. He’d watched players raising the stakes to unbelievable levels and decided they were crazy.
He knew risk was exhilarating. Skydiving, mountain climbing, shooting class five rapids… Gray had tried them all and loved the adrenaline rush that came of dancing on the edge. You honed your body and mind in preparation, the same as you did for a courtroom showdown with a smart prosecutor or a tough judge. Risky, but you really were always in control.
Leaving everything to fate? That wasn’t risky, it was crazy, plain and simple.
Chance decided where the little roulette ball landed, which number on the die came up, how many coins you had to feed into the maw of a machine before you came out a winner, if you ever did. Along about midnight, when he was damn near punchy from lack of sleep, it struck him that it was the same with relationships. No matter what you tried, you could never count on how they would turn out. A man never knew what was coming. Women saw to that.
Like that routine with Red. He didn’t care if he saw her again or not. It just rankled, how she’d played him for a fool. Push my car, thank you very much. Drive me to work. Thanks again. Oh, no, I’m not going to give you my name. It’s none of your business.
Gray tossed back the last of the coffee.
Basically, she was right. It was just that he’d felt stupid as hell, watching her bolt from the car and run through the rear entrance of the hotel. After a minute, he’d driven to the door, leaned out the window and spoken to the security guard who had let her in.
“Damnedest thing,” he’d said, with what he’d hoped was a smile, “but the lady forgot to tell me her name.”
“Really,” the guard had replied, and Gray tried another smile.
“Yeah. Well, she was late for work.”
“Uh-huh.”
The SOB wasn’t going to give an inch. “I’d sure like to know her name,” he’d said, reaching for his wallet. “I’d be very grateful.”
“Get lost, mister. You’re trespassing on private property.”
Just what he needed. Legal advice from a rent-a-cop. Gray almost told him that but sanity had prevailed. He gunned the engine, drove around to the front of the hotel, handed the car over to a blue-jacketed valet and checked in at the front desk.
A shower cooled him down. A meal helped, too. Then he’d started his trek through a casino the size of a small city a
nd never came close to sighting his quarry. When he’d realized he was also keeping an eye out for the lady whose car had died on the road, he felt his bad temper coming back. He had problems enough, trying to find one woman. Why double the number?