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.
