***
SEAN began to wonder if Callie was out of her mind. She was in the backseat getting all dolled up, carefully applying mascara with a hand mirror, then teasing and smoothing her hair with a small brush.
“You look beautiful, lovely, but I don’t think now is the time to worry about all this.”
A glance to his right showed that Thorpe looked as confused as he did.
“It’s the perfect time. I’m going to make a big splash.” She dug into her backpack and pulled out some black leggings and a simple V-neck shirt in red. She shimmied out of her old clothes and into the new, then exchanged her tennis shoes for some black sandals.
Somehow, she made clothes that had been rumpled into a ball five minutes ago look perfect.
“Why?” Thorpe demanded. “What do you have planned in that mischievous head of yours?”
Callie shook her head. “I’m still working out the details. Get me to a taxi. You’ll see.”
“You should clue me in. After all, I have some experience at eluding bad guys,” Sean said ironically.
“I’ve put my trust in you for the last thirty-six hours. Now it’s time for you to do the same for me.”
Sighing and grumbling, Sean continued heading northwest, toward downtown. Traffic was definitely picking up now that it was after seven a.m. They slowed to the speed he’d drive on a residential street as he headed north on I-515. Fucking mess.
Ten minutes to go, max. Then they could disappear into a cab, get lost in a sea of humanity, and hopefully whatever the devil was in Callie’s head would save the day.
Another glance in the rearview mirror alarmed him. A black sedan two cars back and to the right. They’d picked it up a few minutes ago—along with a lot of other cars. But this one . . . every time he switched lanes, so did the sedan.
With the hair at the back of his neck standing up, Sean slowed down. It wasn’t hard with this many cars. The lane of traffic beside him was moving a tad faster. But the black sedan slowed, too.
Growling a curse, Sean changed lanes again, getting directly in front of the dark car. He glanced in the rearview mirror, hoping to see someone blabbing on the phone, a woman putting on her mascara, or someone reading their texts—anything that said this driver wasn’t really paying attention to them. Instead, he saw two men in an unfamiliar bluish uniform, one fancier than the other. He tensed.
“What is it?” Thorpe asked.
Sean didn’t really want to talk to him, but Thorpe was another gun and more muscle. He needed that more than resentment now. “We’ve got company. Callie, have you worked out your plan?”
“I need to make a phone call. Neither of you has a phone anymore?”
“They’re destroyed.” Thorpe looked grim.
“Keep getting to the taxi. I’ll figure out how to make this work.”
An exit appeared on the right. He sped up and put on his blinker, pretending that he intended to change to the fast lane on the left. At the last moment, he jerked the wheel right, cutting off an SUV, then bumped onto the off-ramp, flooring it.
The other car hit the brakes, tires screeching, then followed them off the ramp.
“Fuck,” Thorpe said, turning to look out the back windshield.
That summed it up. Sean navigated the traffic, dodging cars, changing lanes, screaming through a yellow light to try to lose their tail.
The black sedan simply ran the red and continued on, firing a semiautomatic out the window.
“Jesus, they could kill anyone!” Sean cursed, thankful that the bullets had missed. “We should hit the Strip soon. If I can’t shake this tail, we won’t have time to retrieve our luggage from the back. Callie, hand Thorpe your backpack. As soon as I stop the Jeep, everyone bail out and run.”
In the backseat, Callie gave him a nod. Besides lushing up her lashes with mascara, she’d rimmed her bright blue eyes in her signature black liner. Her eyes stood out in her pale face, broken only by the red gloss on her lips. Now wasn’t the time to notice how damn beautiful she was, but he couldn’t help it. She looked especially lovely with her delicate face full of determination. Hell, he really was madly in love.
As Sean raced down Tropicana Avenue, he also realized that finding a quick place to ditch the Jeep on the Strip might be tough. Time to improvise.
Sean hung a right onto Las Vegas Boulevard the second he could, grateful that traffic wasn’t too heavy. When he saw the street sign for Las Vegas Boulevard, he hung a sharp right onto the edge of the Strip. A screech of tires behind told him the sedan was doing its best to follow suit.
“Where the hell are you going?” Thorpe barked.
“Looking for a place to lose the Jeep and pick up a cab,” he said grimly.
Thankfully, the traffic in the tourist areas wasn’t as heavy at this hour. Random cars and the occasional cab drifted by. Some hungover partiers were doing the walk of shame back to their hotels.
The grandeur of the Bellagio jumped out at him, the famous fountain show idle this early in the morning. He floored it down the relatively empty side street leading to the hotel, past the standing streetlamps meant to be charming. Through the back passenger window, he caught a glimpse of the fake Eiffel Tower that always made him roll his eyes—and the black sedan heading toward the curve to follow him, about thirty seconds behind. At least they had stopped shooting for now.
He roared under the canopy and glanced to his right, past the topiaries. A few idling taxies, a shuttle bus full of spent revelers leaving for the airport, and some members of the valet staff milling around.
The second the car came to a shuddering stop, they all jumped out and slammed the doors.
Sean threw the keys at a valet attendant and flashed his badge. “Emergency. I’ll be back. Park it now!”
“Yes, sir,” the young man answered.
He gripped Callie’s hand as they ran toward the hotel, searching the line of taxis and praying that his instincts were right. Bingo! Away from the line of vehicles for hire he spotted a taxi with its light off and an older man napping in the front seat. He pounded on the window.
The man started and adjusted his ball cap with a glower. “Can’t you read? I’m off duty.”
“It’s life or death. Please.” Callie pressed her face to the glass and she might have thrust her breasts a bit closer to the window, too.
As Sean flashed his badge he wanted to gnash his teeth, but at least the guy wasn’t scowling anymore.
“There’s a thousand dollars in cash if you get us out of here in the next ten seconds.” Thorpe reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. “And keep yourself off duty.”