Page 175 of Menace in Vegas

I stop pacing long enough to really look at her.

Her face is pale, but her eyes? They’re steady. Fierce.

She’s scared but she’s not running.

God, I love her.

“I’m going to find him,” I say. “I don’t care what it takes. I’m not letting some bastard stalk my wife.”

She steps closer, voice low but unwavering. “Then let me help.”

I hesitate.

But I know better than to lie to her now.

“You can help by staying close. Letting me keep an eye on you. And if you see him again—anywhere—you tell me immediately. No exceptions.”

She doesn’t argue.

But her jaw tightens, and I can see it in her eyes. She knows I’m still holding something back.

And she’s right.

If I told her that I called in a hacker named Stryker to trace Daltyn’s digital footprint like breadcrumbs, it would only spiral into more questions. More fear.

So, for now, I let her believe this is everything.

I don’t look at the flowers on the table. They’re just a reminder of what I was hoping for before everything flipped upside down.

They’re already wilting.

And so is my patience.

Whoever’s watching her better pray I don’t find him first.

78

ALLISON

Connor steps out to take a call, muttering something about needing to clear his head.

I’m left in the kitchen, alone and emotionally wrung out.

And suddenly… numb.

The adrenaline that carried me through our confrontation drains all at once, leaving behind a weird hollowness.

I rub my arms, trying to shake it off.

Then something catches my eye.

A bouquet of white lilies and pink peonies rests on the edge of the table, drooping in the warm air.

The plastic wrap is crinkled. There’s no note.

Just the forgotten flowers, already starting to wilt.

My heart sinks.

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