Page 72 of Sam's Salvation

“Well, with me, it’s true.” They reached the door. Audra prayed it wasn’t alarmed—or locked. She pushed on the bar. It swung open with a soft protest of the hinges.

Warm night air blasted her in the face, and the bright lights of the Strip made her squint. “Phew! It’s warm out here. I thought the desert was supposed to be chilly at night. How about we hit up the Paris for some air-conditioning? And some of their crepes? That sounds good. I’m starving.” She needed to get the woman away from the club and some place safe. Liam’s band of merry men usually stayed away from the Paris. It was one of the reasons she’d met Sam there.

“I hear you loud and clear, babe. We’ll see you there,” Sam said in her earpiece.

“I’m not very hungry,” the girl said. “I think I’d like to just go home. Can you take me there?”

“Where’s home?”

“Aud, no,” Sam said.

“I live with Simon.”

“No. We’re not going there. And I don’t think you really want to go back there. Do you?”

“No,” the young woman whispered.

“Then we’re getting crepes.”

Thirty-Three

Sam met Dean and Max out back of the club. Audra was nowhere in sight.

“You know where she went, right?” Dean asked.

“I do. Let’s go.” He jogged around the side of the building to the street, signaling a taxi. The three of them squished into the backseat.

“Paris Hotel.” Sam leaned forward. “Quick as you can. There’ll be a good tip in it for you.”

“Yes, sir.” The driver pulled into traffic.

“What the hell was she thinking?” Max asked. “This isn’t the plan.”

“I don’t know.” Sam swiped a hand down his face. “She’s always liked to go her own way. It’s part of what makes her so good at undercover work. She can think on her feet. But this—” His words hadn’t stuck this time. They’d just left. He didn’t know what to say. They’d agreed to bugging the girlfriend in the hopes Simon and Geoffrey would talk in front of her. No one had ever mentioned absconding with the woman.

“Moran’s going to be really unhappy now,” Dean muttered.

That was no lie.

The cab driver wove in and out of traffic, making the little Focus’s engine whine as he accelerated. Sam was impressed, though. The guy had some skills behind the wheel. In less than ten minutes, they were pulling up to the Paris entrance. He handed the man a wad of bills and patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks, man.”

The man took the cash, a look of surprise on his face. His gaze met Sam’s. “You need a ride elsewhere, you call Denton.” He picked up a card from the cupholder and gave it to him. “I take you anywhere, man.”

Sam took the card and offered him a smile. “Thanks.” He slid out of the car, pocketing the card.

“Where are we going?” Dean asked.

“The connector between Paris and Horseshoe. There’s a creperie there. It’s where I met Audra when I came to town.” He jogged past his friend and went inside.

They waded through the smoky casino and hurried past the crowded restaurants. In the corridor, it was quieter. Sam saw the sign for the restaurant. “There.” He glanced into the seating area. At the back sat two blonde women.

His heart rate slowed. They were safe.

Anger at what she’d done took over. He marched into the café. “What were you?—”

Her hand in the air and the pleading look in her eyes stopped him. His gaze flicked to the woman across the table from her. She held a plastic fork and was busy cutting off a chunk of the ham and cheese crepe.

Sam’s anger died. Woman was stretching it. Beneath the makeup, there was a softness about her features that said she was just a girl.

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