Page 1 of Sam's Salvation

One

People milled on the busy Las Vegas Strip just outside the shop window. Sam Brackley crossed his muscled arms and watched the people passing by while waiting for Edie’s fiancé, Jordan, to pick out a wedding ring. Vegas was a study of humanity. In one glance, he saw several nationalities and ethnicities, as well as multiple fashion styles—some of them bordering on obscene. He doubted there was another place on the planet where a person could see so much diversity in one location.

“What’s wrong with them?”

Jordan’s question drew Sam’s attention. He turned to see him talking to one of their other friends, Dean, and tip his chin toward Sam, and Max, who stood nearby.

Dean looked over, then grinned. “I imagine Max is having flashbacks. And Sam gets hives at the word commitment.”

“What?” Sam glared at him. “I do not. This is all just too—” He swirled a hand, frowning as the word he wanted refused to come out. He clenched his teeth, hating that his mind didn’t want to work right. Damn brain injury… “You know what I mean.” He folded his arms again and glared. “It’s too frilly. I don’t do frilly.” That still wasn’t the word he wanted, but it would have to do. Shopping for women’s jewelry was not his thing. Even when he had a woman. He preferred to show his appreciation of her in different, more personal ways. Though, this shopping excursion was necessary. Most women expected a wedding ring when they got married.

Max laughed. “I don’t think any of us do.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Oh, whatever. I caught you wearing a tiara and nail polish last week when you watched Margot’s twins.”

“That’s different. They’re kids. I’ll do frilly for kids.”

“For those kids, you will.” Those two little girls had Max wrapped around their little fingers. Their mother did, too, for that matter.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sam turned to face him. “It means—” He stopped as something outside caught his attention. He squinted, frowning. “What the—” He stepped closer to the window. Was that—? No. It couldn’t be.

“What is it?” Ford asked. Sam felt him move closer.

“I thought I saw—” Sam shook his head. “But that’s not possible.” He stared a moment longer at a woman on the other side of the road who had stepped out of a restaurant. She just looked like someone he thought he used to know.

“Saw what?” Ford asked.

“Nothing.” Sam continued to stare down the street. The woman looked up from her phone as she stepped into the throng of people. Sam’s heart stopped. It was her. Ten years older and with darker hair, but he’d never forget that face. He turned toward the door. “I’ll meet you guys back at the hotel later.”

“What?” Ford took two steps after him. “Sam?”

Sam waved and hurried out the door. He couldn’t lose her. Dashing across the street, he wove between people, bumping into a few as he ran after her. Even in four-inch heels, she was moving at a good clip. She’d always been a fast walker.

Ten feet behind her, he called her name. “Audra!”

She didn’t react. Muttering a soft curse, he skirted around a group of young women already dressed to party hard, even at four in the afternoon. With another long stride, he reached out and touched Audra’s arm. “Audra.”

She stiffened beneath his touch, pausing to turn. Coffee-rich brown eyes met his. They widened slightly before her expression blanked.

“I’m sorry. I think you have the wrong person.”

Sam frowned. That was her voice—minus her accent. “No. I don’t. What happened to your accent?”

Her nostrils flared. “This is how I always sound.” She backed up a step, and her gaze darted to the side. “I’m sorry.” Turning her back on the direction she’d looked, she kept backing away. “Don’t follow me, Sam.” Her lilting British accent returned. She stared at him for another long moment, then spun on her heel and hurried away.

Sam’s eyes followed her as she briskly walked away from him. When she reached the other side, a man in a dark suit stepped away from an elegant black car. Sam backed up, fading into the crowd, but kept them in sight. The man said something to her. She pinned him with a glare, said something, then slid into the backseat of the vehicle. Closing her door, the man glanced up, scanning the crowd. Sam melded into the shadows behind a potted palm. With a fierce frown, the man rounded the hood of the car and got into the driver’s seat. A moment later, the car pulled away from the curb. Sam stepped away from the palm as they drove past, taking note of the license plate.

Audra turned her head, meeting his gaze. Sam frowned, watching her leave.

Audra, what did you get yourself into now?

Two

Standing at his balcony window, Sam gazed down at the bustling street below. Even at eleven p.m. the city was wide awake. He flipped the lock holding the door closed and pulled on the handle, opening it the inch the bar in the track allowed. Wind rushed in. The cool air smacked him in the face, but it did little to calm his racing thoughts. All evening, Audra’s wide brown eyes had lurked in his mind. What was she doing here? And sounding like an average midwestern American? It was an act; the switch to her normal voice had proven that. But why? British intelligence didn’t operate in the U.S. Not like that. It was possible she was working with a U.S. agency, but which one? And why?

He blew out a breath and crossed his arms, still staring down at the street. The Sphere lit up the sky, the image shifting from an ad for the new Disney movie to a sleeping emoji face. That thing was an eyesore, even if the technology was impressive. But it played into the Vegas experience, so it fit right in.

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