Las Vegas Layover Read Online Free Page A

p.m. Didn’t she check her damn messages? She promised him dinner an hour ago. Sure, she’d be pissed that he had to back out, but—
    “Fuck!” That was it. It had to be. She had gotten his messages and thought he’d blown her off.
    And still, that explanation didn’t sit quite right. She hadn’t seemed the type to avoid confrontation. He’d bet his next paycheck if Clara was pissed she’d call to give him hell. That realization made him smile. He’d never met a woman like her—a tiny stick of dynamite.
    As Sebastian backed another screw out of the wall panel, a horrible thought took root. Clara was so small and beautiful. Shit, this wasn’t Amish Country, it was Vegas. The sun had been down for hours. Drunks and perverts would litter the streets by now. What if something had happened to her?
    His heart beat against his ribs and his stomach lurched as he strode toward the exit.
    “Steve!” Sebastian yelled across the abandoned section of tarmac where he’d parked the plane so he could work in peace. “I’m starving. I’m going out for an hour or two.”
    “You can’t leave!” Steve bellowed back. “My ass is grass if you don’t get this POS back in the air by morning. Tell Matt what you want. He can go get it.”
    “What I want, he can’t bring me.” Muttering something vulgar under his breath—he’d been doing that a lot today—Sebastian shoved his tools in the nearest chair and headed for the company van. “Drop me off at the Venetian. I’ll call you when I’m done.”
    “Come on, Happy, if you don’t—”
    He didn’t have time for this. Clara could be dead for all he knew. Sebastian climbed into the old conversion van, rolled the window down, and shouted, “Get in the fucking van!”
    Steve’s potbelly rubbed against the steering wheel as he maneuvered his girth into the driver’s seat, white lines pinched into his lips. He’d long ago lost his hair and the full moon reflected back from the top of his shiny head.
    If he hadn’t been so damn sick to his stomach, Sebastian might have laughed. Steve was his friend. He was also pissed as hell. They’d worked together in St. Louis for four years before Steve moved to Vegas with his wife last fall, and they’d always gotten along well. Both men had tempers like rattlesnakes, but in all those years, Steve had done the ranting and Sebastian had done the silent simmer thing. Still, Sebastian’s anger had boiled over a time or two, and Steve had been there to see it. It didn’t happen often, but when it did…
    Sebastian worked to calm his tone as Steve sullenly clipped his seatbelt. “I’ve traced the avionics issue to a panel in the rear. I even loosened it already. It’s probably just a disconnected cannon plug, which I can fix in two seconds, as you damn well know. As far as the engine is concerned, I’ve done all I can until the fuel control gets here. So, shut the fuck up and drive.”
    Steve’s only response was to start the van and scowl at the glaring lights in the distance. The ride didn’t take long. Circling around the rear of the main drag cut their time considerably and, before he knew it, Sebastian was climbing out in front of the Venetian.
    He checked the time. Nine-thirty. “Pick me up here in an hour and a half.”
    Without waiting for agreement, Sebastian slammed the door and turned toward the hotel. The glitz and glamour were wasted on him tonight. He didn’t even glance at the reception desk, continuing purposefully over gleaming gold tiles toward a bank of elevators.
    Hitting the button for the fourteenth floor, he hoped he was in the right damn section. He’d been to Vegas before, but it had been years ago. He’d forgotten how massive its hotels and casinos really were. Finding Clara’s room would be a challenge. Finding her in it would be a frickin’ miracle.

Chapter Five
    Damn him. Damn his stupid, lazy smile. And damn those sexy calves, while she was at it.
    Clara sat in the plush leather chair at