Page 51 of Menace in Vegas

We’ve been drivingfor hours.

The skies above darken as I steer the wood-paneled gremlin on the highway, the window cracked just enough so I can breathe something other than decades of cigarette smoke.

The first lightning strike zigzags across the sky.

Allie jolts.

I grin over at her. "You scared, sweetheart?"

She glares at me, eyes narrowing. "No," she lies.

A roll of thunder shakes the car.

She visibly flinches.

I chuckle, gripping the wheel. "Sure about that?"

She crosses her arms, scowling.

I can’t help but admire the swell of her cleavage.

She stares stubbornly out the windshield, jaw clenched.

She remains silent, but I see right through her.

The radio crackles with an emergency alert.

Reaching over, I turn up the volume.

"Severe storm warning in effect. Heavy rainfall, flash floods, and damaging winds are expected. Seek shelter immediately."

Allie blows out a breath. "So we’re dying today?"

I smirk. "No, we’re not.”

The next exit is a shady, barely marked detour.

I take it, my eyes scanning for lodging signs.

Allie groans when she sees the motel. "Seriously? This place looks like a crime scene waiting to happen."

I throw the car in park in front of the dilapidated building. "Perfect for a honeymoon, huh, wife?"

She chucks her empty coffee cup at me.

* * *

A single flickeringneon sign buzzes over the entrance.

I can’t even muster the courage to say something positive.

We step into the lobby, exchanging a look.

It’s quiet.

Eerily quiet.

The guy at the front desk smiles at us. He’s missing teeth and smells like beef jerky. "One room?" he grunts.

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