Vegas Virgin (Nevada Bad Boys 1)

“You just described half the patrons in the bar and most of my immediate family.” He chuckled as he put the beer in front of me and scooped up my money.

“He drives a truck—a black truck?” I added the only detail I had.

“That narrows it down by about fifty percent.” He shrugged.

“He took my suitcase at the airport.” I picked up the beer and sipped it, feeling tears welling up in my eyes. “I just want to try and get my stuff back.”

“Oh shit.” He sighed heavily and leaned against the bar. “Please don’t cry.”

“I can’t help it. I’m here on vacation and I’m pretty sure he took it on purpose. I just want to talk to him. I’d be happy to pay for my stuff, if I could just get it back.” I sipped the beer again and wiped away a tear.

“Listen.” He leaned closer. “It sounds like you’re looking for Vincent or Floyd. They’re small time—but I’m pretty sure I saw them bring a luggage bag in here yesterday. I saw Vincent leave with it. He’s got an apartment over on Park Place—don’t tell him I told you that.”

“I won’t!” I shook my head and felt the hope rising again. “I promise.”

I could have called the cops—I probably should have gone that route instead of heading to the apartment complex on my own. It took a while for the Uber to arrive and that was after two refused to even pick me up. The apartment complex looked about as shady as the bar, but I couldn’t give up when I had a lead, especially when I saw the black truck parked in one of the spaces near the lobby. The guy at the front desk eyed me suspiciously when I asked about Vincent, but I slipped him a twenty-dollar bill and he quickly told me which apartment I should go to. I started up the stairs with each step heavier than the one before it. I had no idea what would be waiting on me when I knocked on the door. For all I knew, he could just kill me—I wasn’t sure it would be that unusual to see a dead body lying in the hallway underneath the graffiti. My thoughts were focused more on my camera than my safety. I really did want to get it back. I got to the front door of the apartment and positioned myself to knock.

Here goes nothing.

Chapter 6: Vincent

I had woken up a few times during the night, but my living room didn’t have a window, so it was easy to go back to sleep. My dreams were haunted by the woman I saw in the pictures on the camera, teasing me with her ocean-blue eyes. All of those lovely dreams that left my cock permanently aroused in my shorts were destroyed when I heard a pounding on my front door.

I sat up and rubbed my eyes, trying to make sense of the noise. It was too early for Floyd to be awake, even if the day was creeping into the afternoon hours. When the sound ended, my head stopped throbbing along with it, but then it started again with even more fury than it had the first time. I groaned as I came to my feet and stumbled forward, hitting my shin against the coffee table. The empty whiskey bottle landed on the rug at my feet and rolled towards the couch and cigarette ash dust rose up for a moment before settling on the coffee table. I walked over to the door and pushed my eye against the peephole. What stared back at me was a vision of loveliness with ocean-blue eyes.

“Oh fuck!” I took a step back. “It’s her...”

“Is anyone in there?” Her voice echoed from the other side of the door and then the pounding began again.

“Just a minute...” I looked behind me at the luggage and the camera sitting on the table.

“Come on, Vincent. Open the door.” Her voice sounded again.

Shit! She knows my name? How the fuck does she know my name?

“Just a minute!” My words were louder—loud enough that I was sure she could hear me. I made a mad dash towards the coffee table and hid everything that belonged to her in the closet next to the television.

“If you don’t open the door, I’m calling the cops!” I could hear her tone getting angrier.

“I’m opening the door!” I stumbled back towards it and unlatched the chain before flipping the lock and pulling it open. “Can I help you with something?”

“I believe you picked up my bag at the airport—maybe it was an accident?” I could tell by her agitated tone that she didn’t believe what she said.

“Airport?” I let the door open a little further. “I haven’t been to the airport.”

“Yes you have!” She pushed the door hard and I had to take a step back to avoid having it slammed into my skull. “You took my bag!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” It was too late to keep her out of my apartment; she was already pushing her way through the door like an angry bulldog and I wasn’t going to slam it on her.

“Don’t lie to me!” She put her hands on her hips once she was inside my apartment. “I saw you, and the truck parked outside is the same one I saw driving away!”

Well shit—she is quite the junior detective.

“Okay, fine.” My tone got a little firmer. “But do you really think I have any of your shit here? I already pawned everything.”

“You pawned my clothes?” She tilted her head angrily.

“No, I tossed those in the garbage.” I shrugged and tried to keep the lie going.