Vegas, Baby - Volume 3

I’d had my daughter at twenty, the result of a youthful indiscretion. Since her mom had no desire to be a part of her life, I’d raised Delia on my own. I was thirty-seven, with an almost college-age daughter, so while I’d been open to finding someone to spend the rest of my life with, I was done with the diapers, late-night feedings, dance recitals, coaching softball, etc. I had no desire for more children. Once again, my beauty had changed my world in an instant. Suddenly, I saw us filling our house with little ones, raising our family, and growing old together.

I hit a button on my steering wheel and said, “Call Knox.”

The sound of dialing filled the car, then a few rings, before Knox picked up.

“Parker,” he greeted. “What can I do for you?”

“I need some information on a guest,” I informed him.

“Don’t you have your own head of security?

“She’s a guest at your hotel, not mine.”

Knox made a tsking noise, and I could practically see him shaking his head and giving me his steely-eyed stare. “You’re asking me to violate the privacy of a guest? I would never do that.”

I snorted and rolled my eyes. “You think I don’t know about everything you’ve done in the past five years? Drew and my brother try to deny it, but they gossip almost as much as their wives.”

“True.”

I laughed at his exasperated tone. Knox was a hard-ass and impossible to crack unless he was willing or it had to do with his wife. Which gave me the perfect weapon so I didn’t have to beg.

“She’s it, man. I need to know how to find her.”

Knox sighed and grumbled something under his breath. “Give me some specifics.”

I gave him a description, the time she entered, and told him she was with a group of women. Then I waited silently, listening to the click-click of the keyboard. Finally, as I was passing through the gate to my driveway, he spoke up.

“Amelia Flores. Twenty-five. License says she’s from Mesa, Arizona. Here until Sunday. And she has one of our event rooms booked for a bachelorette party tomorrow night.”

My breath caught in my throat, and I was grateful I’d already pulled into my garage and put the car in park. The thought that she might be engaged put a sour taste in my mouth and made me want to find her fiancé and bury him somewhere no one would ever find the body. It would mean she was off-limits. Then the thought that she wasn’t married yet crept into my mind, and I knew I’d fight for her.

Knox must have picked up on my train of thought by my silence. “I don’t think she’s the bride. Most of the activities they have planned are booked in her name.”

“How do you figure?” I asked, confused at his conclusion from the evidence at hand.

There was some murmuring and rustling on the other end of the phone before a female voice came over the line. “The bride doesn’t plan her own bachelorette party, Zack,” Knox’s wife, Addilyn, explained. “That’s usually the job of the maid of honor.”

Relief eased the tension in my body, and I exhaled slowly. “Thanks, Addilyn.”

“Sure!” she chirped.

A second later, Knox was back. “You serious about this girl?” he queried.

“Absolutely. Never been more certain of anything in my life.” Now I just had to figure out a way to find her and get her alone so I could convince her that we belonged together.

“Have the VIP party room at your restaurant open tomorrow night,” he instructed, reading my mind again. “I’ll talk to Drew, and we’ll find an excuse to have her event moved to The Crescent Moon.”

I grinned stupidly and was glad he couldn’t see my expression because I’d never hear the end of it. “I owe you,” I told him sincerely.

“Yes, you do.”

It didn’t matter what he wanted. I would give him anything for the chance to get my girl.

Satisfied with the plan, I got out of my Maserati and entered the mudroom at the back of the house. I inhaled the rich aroma of meatloaf, and my mouth watered. I never took for granted how fucking lucky I was that my daughter loved to cook and was great at it.

Delia was at the sink, washing a dish when I walked in, and I went right over to kiss the top of her head. “Hey, jellybean,” I greeted.

She looked up at me with a bright smile that never ceased to make my world a happier place. “Hi, Daddy.”

“How was your day?” I asked as I shuffled over to the stove and practically drooled at the delicious food cooling there. My hand stretched toward the mashed potatoes, intending to scoop some with my finger for a taste when a spatula came down on top of it. “Ouch,” I yelped as I snatched back my stinging hand.