Page 172 of Menace in Vegas

We step outside. The sun’s slipping lower, casting golden light across the street. Tourists wander by in flip-flops, heading toward dinner.

I try to enjoy it. Iwantto enjoy it.

Then the hair on the back of my neck stands up.

Despite the sticky Key West heat, a chill rushes over me.

I look around.

And then I see him.

He’s Across the street, his hoodie pulled low. Oversized sunglasses hiding most of his face. He’s standing just beyond a rack of plastic leis and touristy postcards, in front of a tiny shop.

He’s not moving. Not browsing.

Just… watching.

And though I can’t see his eyes, Ifeelthem—locked on me.

I stop walking.

Gram’s still talking about edible glitter body paint, but I barely hear her. My pulse is in my ears now, thudding louder with every second.

He doesn’t move.

His focus is razor-sharp. Fixed.

Then a group of tourists passes between us, momentarily blocking my view.

When they’re gone, so is he.

I blink, suddenly ice-cold.

“Something wrong, sweetheart?” Gram asks, finally noticing I’ve stopped.

I force a smile. Shaky. Unconvincing. “No. Just thought I saw someone I knew.”

But inside, I’m unraveling.

I know what I saw.

I didn’t imagine it.

And whoever he is… he’s watchingme.

76

ALLISON

By the time Gram and I get back to the bungalow, I’ve mentally rehearsed five different ways to confront Connor.

Most of them involve yelling.

One involves throwing my flip-flop at him.

All of them end with him finally telling me what the hell is going on.

I escort Gram to her bungalow with a to-go cup of sangria and a warning to please stay out of trouble, and far, far away from Captain Jimmy, for the next fifteen minutes.

---