Page 19 of Sam's Salvation
As she left the Mirage, she dumped the phone pieces into a public rubbish bin. From here, Dee would have to pick her up on CCTV cameras if she wanted to track her down. Audra wished her luck. She’d need it.
Eight
Sam hopped out of the cab, pulling his small leather duffel with him, and paid the driver. He glanced up at the elaborate façade of the Paris Hotel. Lights on the Eiffel Tower danced in time to the fountains going off across the road at the Bellagio. He ignored it all and hurried inside, knowing Audra was waiting for him.
When he got her call, he hadn’t asked questions. He’d simply called his bar manager, Martina, and left her a message, asking her to run things for the foreseeable future, then coerced a local pilot to fly him to San José. There, he’d booked himself on the earliest flight to Vegas he could get, which, luckily, began boarding only twenty minutes after he made it through security. He’d landed in Vegas just over seven hours later to voice messages from Dean, but he’d yet to call him back. He wanted more details first.
Smoke filled the air, giving the casino floor a hazy look. It stung his eyes. Trying to breathe as little as possible, Sam strode across the wild, geometric-patterned carpet, past Gordon Ramsay’s steakhouse and the glam Vanderpump restaurant. He entered the corridor connecting the Paris to its sister resort, the Horseshoe. Stopping outside of a coffeeshop and creperie, where Audra said she’d be, he peered inside. At the back of the dining area, he saw a woman in a dark ball cap, sitting alone. With her head tipped down, he couldn’t see her face, but he’d know the graceful line of Audra’s neck and shoulders anywhere.
His heart stuttered in his chest. She was really here.
Readjusting his grip on his bag, he crossed the tile floor.
She looked up. Again, Sam’s heart stuttered. She was so damn beautiful. Even worn out and looking like she could use some sun and twelve hours of sleep, she was gorgeous.
“Hey.” He stopped beside her table.
A soft smile crossed her face. “Hey. Have a seat.” She motioned to the chair across from her.
Sam sat.
“You hungry? They’ve got good food here.”
“No. Tell me what’s going on.” He reached over and brushed his fingers over her knuckles. “Are you okay?” He didn’t want to waste time on pleasantries. He wanted answers. If she was calling him for help, something went terribly wrong with her mission.
She sighed and nodded. “I’m fine. I took a knock to the head and have a bad bruise on my hip, but?—”
“A knock to the head? What? Start at the beginning. All you said on the phone was basically that the shit hit the fan. How did you get hurt?”
“I got hit by a car.”
“What?” Sam’s voice rose in volume. His eyes roved over what he could see of her body. She was pale, but otherwise looked all right.
Audra shushed him. “I’m fine. A concussion and some bruises. Nothing that won’t heal on its own with time. I got lucky.”
“Was this on purpose?” He leaned in, fists clenched, lowering his voice.
“I think so, yes.” She pulled the corner of her bottom lip in and chewed on it.
Sam narrowed his eyes. Something about her expression told him she knew more than she was saying. “You know who did it, don’t you?”
“No. I mean, I have my suspicions, but—” She broke off and shook her head. “I don’t want them to be true.”
Sam propped his elbows on the table and rubbed at his eyes. He still felt like he knew nothing. “Okay. Back up. Does this have to do with what you were playing at when I saw you in February?” He assumed it did, but wanted confirmation.
“Yes.” She chewed on her lip again, then sighed. “What I’m going to tell you has to stay between us. You can’t tell anyone. Not even your friends in Costa Rica.”
“How did—” He stopped, frowning. “Wait. How deep did you dig into my life?”
She picked at the napkin beside her plate. “After I walked away that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I needed to know that you were doing all right, so I did some digging. Besides, you told me to contact you if I ever needed help. I figured it couldn’t hurt to look into you, so I did, and I memorized your number. I never intended to use it, but…” She shrugged. “I discovered you lived down there with several other former military members. That’s as deep as I went.”
“Okay.” His head bobbed in understanding. “Continue.”
“So, SIS sent me undercover as the fiancée of Liam Brogan, the head of the Las Vegas branch of the Irish mafia.”
“Fiancée?” Sam’s gut churned. What all did that entail? He hated the thought of her having to let some crime lord touch her in the most intimate of ways. “That’s why you were involved with the Irish mafia?”
“Yes. I bear a striking resemblance to Alexandra Burton, oldest daughter of Sean Burton, a right arsehole of a real estate developer in Chicago. He got into some financial trouble a few years ago and turned to the Irish mob to bail him out. Except he fell behind on his payment schedule. The U.S. authorities had been keeping tabs on him for some time. They had a boatload of evidence on him, but wanted bigger fish. When they realized he was between a rock and a hard place, they played their hand and offered him a deal. He’d maintain his independence for now, plead on lesser charges when it was time, and give them an in with the mafia. The original plan was to get someone on Brogan’s payroll through Burton’s recommendation.”