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“Sounds like a plan.” He gave her ass a pat as she claimed her clutch bag or what amounted to a joke of a purse. Leaving him to check on the face he recognized, she headed out of the mixer. They’d given them enough time to get photos of everyone in the room, so she shut the watch off and stripped the cool metal from her wrist. Shoving it into the clutch purse, she made her way to the escalator and down to the first floor.
Whoever designed these places really wanted folks to stay inside. The elevators were accessible, but only if one passed through a portion of the casino. The narrow path between the reception desk and the slot machines guaranteed customers would have a chance to be tempted.
Merc wasn’t anywhere to be seen, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t in the hotel. His scars made him stand out, so he had become an expert at blending in. The cell phone buzzed as she reached the elevator. Hitting the up arrow, she tugged the phone out.
Plat’s message had her stomach bottoming out.
Danvers slipped his leash.
The second sent a chill up her spine.
Ant spotted him on a commuter flight roster to Vegas.
The time stamp on the messages irked her. They’d come in more than two hours before, right around the time she and Cobalt had entered the mixer. What the hell good was a phone if it didn’t deliver the messages?
Texting back an acknowledgement, she stepped into the elevator as the doors whooshed open. A flight time would have been nice. Where was Gabriel going?
The conference? They could adjust for his arrival. Her?
Her pulse and respiration increased, but she ignored the physiological response. Getting laid should have satisfied that particular need. Hitting Coyle’s floor number, she hit send on the message. An arm stopped the elevator doors from closing. They peeled open again to reveal Gabriel. He stepped inside and hit a floor button. Most people entering an elevator took the empty side and turned to face the door.
Gabriel did neither.
She focused her gaze straight ahead. The part she played didn’t know him.
“Hello, Copper.” His warm voice poured over her, and she flicked a look at him, modulating her surprise to perplexed.
Then, because her voice could give her away, she settled for Japanese and said, “I don’t speak English.”
His slow smile had a devastating effect on her equilibrium. Her pulse leapt and her breathing deepened. This close, she couldn’t miss the rich scent of him filling her lungs. “It’s a good thing I speak Japanese, then.”
The response floored her.
When the elevator arrived at Coyle’s floor, she had a choice—push past Gabriel or stay put. If she left, he’d know she needed something on that floor. If she stayed, she risked tipping her hand.
“Excuse me,” she murmured, holding onto her cover by the skin of her teeth. Submerging herself had never been an issue, but Gabriel was there—and he’d recognized her. How the hell was that possible? Her mind refused to wrap around the possibility.
“After you,” Gabriel said, then followed her out of the elevator. Exactly what she didn’t want him to do. He looked good. The white shirt and faded jeans look worked for him. A business casual that was all masculine. She kept her pace even as she walked down the hall toward Coyle’s room.
She had twenty rooms to make her decision. Gabriel kept pace. Ten rooms from her destination, a scream split the air. A woman stumbled out of a room down the hall wearing a towel and nothing else. Blood speckled her hands, and she whipped her head around to stare at them.
Then opened her mouth and screamed.
Copper stilled, but Gabriel hurried past her. Like a white knight, he tried to catch the woman as she fell. Her bloodied handprints fixed to his shirt as she kept screaming. Joining them, Copper glanced into the room.
Well, she knew why Coyle hadn’t shown up at the mixer. He lay on the floor of the hotel room with his throat slashed. Blood was everywhere. More rooms opened and people stepped out. Elevators dinged downed the hallway. Still walking, Copper left the room, Gabriel, and the screaming woman behind. At the stairwell, she let herself in with her room key then slipped off her shoes and jogged up two flights of stairs. Most people would go down, and she could hear the doors below opening.
On the second flight up, she heard the door below her opening and she went completely still. Gabriel’s soft curse drifted up to her. Would he go down or come up?
Most people would go down, but so far, he hadn’t done a damn thing most people would do.
“Sir!” a voice called, and Gabriel swore again. The door closed, and he hadn’t come inside.
Exhaling a relieved breath, she went up another two flights before letting herself out of the stairwell. Shoes on once more, she walked to the elevators and called one. Time to change and report in.
Coyle was dead, and she wasn’t any closer to their leak—except Gabriel was in Las Vegas. All the way to her room, she debated her next step. The obvious one—the one she needed to do because if he was the guilty party, she couldn’t let him escape.
Copper had to see Gabriel again.