Page 2 of Twisted Trust

I pawn the group onto the front desk staff to help organize their check-out and flee the hotel into the vibrant, thriving Las Vegas strip.

Moving here had been a dream three years ago, but now I’m not sure how I feel about the strip that never sleeps.

The money’s good, but the bills are expensive and I’m as poor here as I was living in New York.

At least here, I’m safe. There’s no better place to vanish than one of the busiest places in the world.

It takes me an agonizing ten minutes to hail a cab, and then an even longer ten-minute drive from the hotel to the activity center where my son, Scott, finished up his introductory sports class thirty minutes ago.

My heart clenches painfully as I sprint inside the building and spot him sitting alone on a plastic chair, kicking his legs back and forth.

He seems happily distracted by the picture book balancing on his skinny knees, but before I can reach him, Sarah, the activity center coordinator, materializes out of her office and into my path.

“You’re late,” she says with that perfectly polite but also extremely snippy tone she uses for scolding parents in front of their unsuspecting kids.

“Sorry,” I gasp as my face flushes from the sprint in here for the taxi outside. “I had a crazy day.”

“Mmhmm.” She purses her lips while smiling sweetly. “So did I. Caring for the twenty screaming children their parents dumped here definitely kept me busy, but you know what? I told myself it would be worth it because I’m going to dinner with my husband at seven and I’d have three whole hours to get ready!” Her thin, over-plucked eyebrows raise. “Do you know why my plans changed?”

I want to smack that sweet, condescending smile off her face but I can’t afford to get into any kind of altercation. “I have no idea.”

“Because you’re thirty-six minutes late.” She briefly looks me up and down, causing a hot, prickly flush to burst across myskin. “Aren’t you an event coordinator? Isn’ttimingsupposed to be what you’re good at?”

“In theory,” I reply tiredly. “Do you want to make yourself later by talking to me or can I take my son and go?”

Scott finally catches on to the sound of my voice and looks up at me with his gigantic golden eyes.

He smiles at me, and all the stress tightening in my chest instantly fades away.

Sarah sighs and sucks on her teeth, then she pulls a folded slip of paper from her pocket and hands it to me as her fake smile fades. “Your last check bounced. My boss says you can’t come back until you’ve paid your outstanding fees.”

“What?” Snatching the paper from her hand, I unfold it to see the gigantic red letters readingINVALIDstamped on my check.

Shit.

I thought I had enough in my account to cover this. “I get paid in two weeks. Can’t he come until then?”

Sarah’s fake smile turns into a smug one of real enjoyment. “No. We can’t run this place on promises, Miss Jackson. You understand.”

With that, she turns and saunters back into her office. The door closes firmly in my face, silencing the hundreds of excuses that flood my mind.

Shit.

I rely on this place, which is why it’s easy to put up with bitches like Sarah.

They have a partnership with Scott’s school so when school ends, he’s brought straight here with a handful of other children.

The extra time has been a godsend when it comes to my unpredictable work hours.

Now what am I going to do?

“Scott!” I call for my son, and he slips off the chair, abandoning his book and running straight into my arms.

“Mommy! You’re late!”

It kills me a little every time he points this out. “I know, baby. I had to deal with an ogre at work.”

His eyes widen in amazement as I scoop him up with a light grunt and carry him outside. “What did it look like?”