Before I left, Brandy’s mom Donna had taken me aside and begged me to find her daughter, while she’d sobbed into a tissue streaked with blood. Donna had terminal lung cancer and could barely find the energy to make herself a sandwich these days, but she promised she’d manage looking after Brandy’s son Jack while I was gone. Then, on my way out of the house, Jack grabbed me around the waist and asked me to bring his mom home soon. Both times I’d blinked back tears, and swore to them that I would find Brandy.
What else could I have done? Brandy had treated me like family from the moment we’d met in the library where she worked, and she’d given me a place to live when I needed it most. I should have gone with her to Vegas, and guilt was eating me alive for that decision. I’d chosen my responsibilities over my friend, and I wished more than anything that I could go back in time and redo everything. If I could get Maggie to step in and help at the shop now, why couldn’t I have done that before? Brandy would have done it for me in a heartbeat. Why, why, why did I let her go alone?
I had to find her, and it was all on me. Brandy had nobody else in the world to go looking for her, and I couldn’t let her drop off the face of the Earth. Vegas would eat her alive and forget her, allowing her to become another statistic. The police here were proof of that. When I went to report her disappearance they blew me off, especially once they found out Brandy went missing in Lucas’s hotel. They’d closed ranks immediately, speaking in low voices to one another with pointed glances, suddenly all deferential about Mr. Ifer. He probably had each and every one of them on his payroll. They eventually took my report, but I had a bad feeling it was in a pile somewhere never to be seen again.
My only option had been to start doing some detective work myself, but I kept hitting dead ends. First, the staff at The Celestial Resort & Casino couldn’t find any information about a librarian conference. When I looked it up myself online I only found one sparse website for it, and no other mentions anywhere. It was almost like it never existed at all. Or like someone had set up the whole thing just to lure Brandy to Las Vegas. But why? Had she gotten herself involved in something bad? Some sort of business with the mob? I found that hard to believe.
I started poking around the hotel, asking questions and playing detective, but I was no Nancy Drew. I had no idea what I was doing, yet I asked people as many questions as I could think of, and slowly but surely my intuition tugged at me, telling me something wasn’t right. I wore my cheap flip-flops up and down The Strip, visiting all the places Brandy might have visited. No one gave me any information, almost like Brandy hadn't existed at all. I hit brick wall after brick wall. I needed access to video cameras, phone records, and credit cards, but I didn’t have a badge or any connections. And I was running out of time and money.
Then I heard about Lucas Ifer, the owner of The Celestial, along with a lot of other places in Vegas too, according to rumor. They called him the devil in hushed tones and made him sound like a dangerous mob boss, but it soon became apparent that not much happened in Vegas he didn’t know about. Plus he was known for making deals, and he was able to get you anything you wanted. For a price, of course.
By all accounts, Lucas Ifer was the King of Las Vegas. If the police couldn’t help me, and the people on the street couldn’t help me, I had to come to the castle. I just hadn’t expected the castle to be in the sky. Now I was trapped in this tower like Rapunzel, except my hair was definitely not long enough to get me down.
I sat on the edge of the bed, my heart pounding. I was basically being held captive as a sex slave for a mob boss, and there was no telling if he was going to find Brandy. Or if she was even alive.
No, I had to stop thinking that way. I believed Lucas would honor our deal as long as I did. I felt it in my gut, and my gut was never wrong. Even if my gut also told me that he was the most dangerous man I’d ever met.
I leaned back and ran my hands along the smooth, soft duvet cover and blankets. This guest room was huge and luxurious, but it was sparse too, and I got the feeling it wasn’t used very often. I debated ordering room service, but my stomach was too twisted up in knots to eat anything. Still, if I had to stay somewhere for seven nights, I would be hard-pressed to find a hotel room nicer than this one.
Damn it. Seven nights away from home and from my shop. I sincerely hoped Maggie was able to keep an eye on the place that long. She was in her late sixties, and I worried running the whole thing might be a hardship for her. I’d had to agree that she could say cash or check only, which was going to suck. Most people preferred credit, but Maggie was hopeless with the card machine. I grimaced at the thought of returning to a business that had collapsed under the weight of going old-school. The
