Sucker Bet (Vegas Vampires #4)(21)
Author: Erin McCarthy

Anything to avoid questions about Nate. Speaking of which, she needed to scoot back to the spa before the day staff strolled in and found him.

Before he thought she’d ditched out on him.

Of course, maybe he wouldn’t want to see her. Maybe he regretted what had happened.

Maybe he was too busy to worry about where she was.

Maybe he would never think twice about her again.

And maybe she was a highly neurotic vampire who needed to get of the house more often.

Why did it feel like once a penis was thrown into the mix, she was utterly incapable of handling herself? Roberto had made her ridiculous, left her feeling completely out of control. And she was determined no man would ever have control of her again.

If Nate wanted to see her, he knew where to find her. He was probably too busy with his sister’s funeral arrangements to give her a second thought anyway. She didn’t want to intrude on his grief, or put herself where she wasn’t wanted. And she had got neurotic again. Damn it.

No dangling after men, no wallowing, no worrying. She was independent now.

"Actually, I’ll go with you. It should be fun." Fun wasn’t the point, though. The principle was.

Kelsey let out a whoop. "Cool! And you have to wear something blue. You look hot in blue."

That was all that mattered then.

Chapter Seven

Normally, Nate knew how to take a hint.

But he wasn’t feeling particularly normal.

He stood in the lobby at the Ava, feeling exhausted, gritty, stubborn. The lingering taste of bad coffee was in his mouth, and his shoulder muscles were screaming from being taut with stress all day.

So Gwenna Carrick had slipped out on him. He should leave it at that. Let it go.

But he didn’t want to. He wasn’t in the mood to put up with a disappearing act. If she didn’t want to see him again, fine, whatever, but she should have said it to his face. There should have been a good-bye. What was so f**king hard about that?

And he had some questions for her regarding the dead guy in the train station. Some interesting little facts had popped up during the course of the day and he was curious as to what her reaction would be to the news.

Nate went up to the front desk. "I need to speak to Gwenna Carrick. What room is she in?"

"I’m sorry." The desk clerk gave him a generic smile, her blond hair sliding over her boxy uniform jacket. "I can’t give out that kind of information."

Extracting his badge from his pocket and holding it up in front of her, Nate said, "I’m Detective Thomas with the Las Vegas Metro Police. I need to speak to Ms. Carrick about an ongoing murder investigation."

The girl blanched. "Oh, um. Hold on. Let me get my supervisor." She turned and ran off.

Nate was tempted to just reach over the counter and type Gwenna’s name into the computer, but he restrained himself. Five minutes later he had the information he needed and he was in the elevator heading to the twenty-first floor.

He had questions and he was going to get answers.

Gwenna scanned through her e-mail, checking both her private account and the slayers’ loop for signs of Slash.

There were posts from him the night before, but that was unreliable as far as she was concerned. Sometimes e-mails hit the loop immediately, sometimes there were random and unpredictable delays. It didn’t prove that Slash wasn’t the guy now lying in the morgue.

The possibility of his death made her shiver. Not that she had any reason to feel guilty. He had suggested the meeting location, and in his many posts, Slash hadn’t come off as a particularly nice guy, but still. It wasn’t like being a bit of a shit in e-mail justified popping someone off.

But she actually discovered a personal e-mail from Slash to her that appeared to have been sent that morning, given the time listed in the header. That was promising and she went to click on it when the doorbell rang.

"Damn." She really wanted to see what Slash had to say. Scanning it quickly as she stood up, she read a quick apology from him for missing their scheduled meeting. He’d had to work, he said, and couldn’t get away in time.

The doorbell rang again and Gwenna jogged over, vampire speed, her mind processing Slash’s e-mail. If he was at work the night before, surely he couldn’t have been killed and stuffed behind a ticket dispenser then. That meant it was all a coincidence. The murder victim had nothing to do with Slash or the slayers’ loop. And she’d just been stood up.

It was a total relief.

She opened the door without checking the peephole, expecting to see Alexis or Kelsey, early for their concert outing. Kelsey had threatened to bring a big giant bag of makeup to play with on Gwenna. Already intent on protesting, she yanked the door open and opened her mouth, an adage about "less is more" on her lips.

The words died when she realized it was Nate at her door. Looking tired, angry, and impatient, if his raised hand was any indication. He was going for a third knock with a taut fist.

"Hi!" she said inanely, wishing like hell she wasn’t wearing yoga pants. But she’d just thrown them on after a shower, knowing Kelsey would insist on going through her closet and picking out an outfit anyway. Kelsey was just that type, and Gwenna was actually lousy at dressing herself, so she was willing to give it a go. As long as it didn’t involve anything see-through or so short that sitting wasn’t an option.

But now she was in stretchy, second-skin gray pants that screamed Friday Night Without a Date, and Nate was staring at her without saying a word. Feeling that annoying and telltale burn creeping up her cheeks, Gwenna forced a bright smile. "What brings you by?"

"Can I come in?" he asked, gesturing to her suite. Not smiling.

"Oh! Of course." She had spent too much time in York. She’s forgotten how to deal with other human beings on a day-to-day basis. The bulk of her contact with people was online, which wasn’t exactly social skill building. "I’m sorry… come in. Please."

He followed her into her apartment and she gave a quick glance around, making sure nothing inappropriate was lying around like a basket of dirty knickers or bags of blood. Of course, he’d seen her knickers when he’d ripped them off the night before, so it was not like a little personal laundry would distress him, but still. And bags of blood would just be bad. Bad blood. Bad, bad, bad. She’d have to mess with his memory, do a little erasing, if he saw anything vampiric, and that just felt wrong. Violating, really, after what they had shared.

"Have a seat," she said, gesturing to her sofa. Ethan’s design staff had done a respectable job of ensuring the suites were more apartment than hotel room, and they were done in rich textures and quality furnishings. It was tasteful, yet Gwenna realized she’d never quite bothered to make it her own. It was still just a hotel suite in her brother’s casino. Not home. No more than Roberto’s Italian villa had been her home. She’d always known his staff had little respect for her, and Roberto himself had never given her any authority over decorating or their living arrangements.