Vegas, Baby
Table of Contents
Title Page
Backlist
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Epilogue
Secondary Targets ~ Excerpt
Murder, Mi Amore Excerpt
Copyright
VEGAS, BABY
Book Two in the Soul Searchers Series
by
Sandra Edwards
Book two of the Soul Searchers series picks up where Broken Wings left off. Rio Laraquette’s back in Vegas and settling into her normal routine—except that Eddie LaCall has invaded her space. The two share a mutual attraction and an undeniable connection.
When Eddie’s scarred past comes back to haunt him his attachment to Rio strengthens even though neither completely trusts the other. Just when it looks like a poker tournament is bringing them together, their budding relationship gets backburnered when a stalker goes from creepy to dangerous, making several attempts on the reluctant lovers’ lives.
Will these two souls—who’ve been searching for each other across eternity—finally get to share a lifetime together, or will they once again end up as star-crossed lovers?
Other books by Sandra Edwards
A rockin’ tale set in the 80s
A time travel romance
A romantic thriller
Broken Wings (Soul Searchers Series: Book 1)
A romantic mystery with hints of the paranormal
Broken Wings/Vegas, Baby 2-Pack
A series with paranormal, suspense and romance
A tale of time travel and vampires
A contemporary romance
PROLOGUE
The Council of Souls
Present Day
THE Council’s gavel echoed through the infinite courtroom. The defendants: Souls A6-21684 and L3-38742 were “old” by Time’s standard and had been attached to many humans. But on this day only two of the souls’ assignments were important. Soul A6-21684 and its human counterparts Maggie Fuller and Rio Laraquette. And, L3-38742’s assigned beings known as the warrior Tajan and Eddie LaCall.
Both had been accused of “enlightening” Rio Laraquette of her existence in another lifetime in the form of Maggie Fuller. If found guilty, the penalty would not be pleasant.
The Supreme Being laid the gavel on the podium. “Before rendering the preapproved verdict, new evidence has been reported by the Commission of Destiny.” The Deity’s gaze landed on one defendant and journeyed across the open expanse to land on the other, A6-21684—who had tried to take full responsibility for the infraction, thereby sparing its counterpart—soul mate—any liability. A sentimental, yet predictable, act that would undoubtedly go uncelebrated by everyone except perhaps L3-38742. “According to the Commission’s findings, neither soul is responsible for the breach in timelines perpetrated on Rio Laraquette.”
“Then who is?” a small voice at the far side of the jury asked.
“No one,” said the Supreme Being. “Before either soul revealed the truth, a kiss of fate had been bestowed upon the young woman when she happened upon the place where her soul had lived in a previous life.”
“So what do we do?” someone else on the panel asked.
“Leave her be,” another judge suggested. “It matters little.”
“Unless the souls are scheduled to reunite.” The Supreme Being’s words caused a hush to fall over the courtroom.
The accused souls’ eyes met, locked, and their faces lit with smiles.
“I have reviewed the subject’s future,” said the Supreme Being. “It is the court’s opinion that if she remains in an enlightened state it will impede her chances of living a productive life. Therefore, it is the ruling of this court that when Rio Laraquette falls asleep on this night all traces that she was once Maggie Fuller in a former life will be erased permanently from her psyche.”
“What about her cousin, Billy Tajan?” a jury member asked.
“He is not an issue.” The Supreme Being’s voice echoed across the panel. “Once it becomes clear to him that Maggie Fuller is nothing more to Rio than their common ancestor with whom she bears a strong resemblance, he will stop believing the truths that have been shown to him.”
CHAPTER 1
Las Vegas, Nevada
One Week Later
AN eerie wind swept across the desert, whispering an omen that Eddie LaCall chose to ignore. He’d taken the Vegas gig for a change of pace, not to get spooked by superstition buried deep in his Navajo roots. Eddie disregarded the ghostly voices in favor of something more tangible. Catching the bad guys.
That’s why he’d been camped out all evening at Lou’s Café, a dump on the outskirts of town off the 15. The only thing this place was good for was setting up a sting. Nobody came for the food.
An overbearing aroma of burnt toast and strong coffee emanated from the back, the main reason Eddie had claimed a table near the door. The stench devoured his appetite.
He checked his watch. His perp had been in the john a long time. Eddie had run across his share of fast-talking criminals but Johnny Bellmore possessed a special kind of BS, one requiring practice and forethought.
Eddie scanned the diner. Two men seated at the counter, scarfing down burgers and fries, laughed between themselves. Another dined alone in a booth, and Eddie took him for a truck driver who’d been out on the road too long. Nobody but a homesick fool gobbled up Lonnie’s Meatloaf Special with such eager delight. Eddie had tried it two days ago and his stomach was still paying the price.
Lesson learned.
The waitress, Mary Beth, was on first name terms with Bellmore. That meant Eddie’s perp frequented this dump on a regular basis. Figures. He’d never understood the thought processes of the criminal mind. If he were a crook, he’d never do the deal in his own backyard. But Bellmore, like most reprobates, didn’t hold logic in high regard.
Mary Beth had been making eyes at Eddie for the last ten minutes. She maneuvered closer and squeezed past him, brushing her hips against his arm. Cheap perfume mingled with the smell of burgers and smothered the space around him with a thick nauseating vapor. The repulsive scent weighted his gut like lead.
Eddie’s perp exited the john and made his way across the diner. Bellmore hurried to the other side of the table and displayed that smug grin Eddie had come to loathe. He was going to enjoy ruining this guy’s life.
“All I’m saying, Tonto, is…” Bellmore picked up the conversation right where he’d left off before heading to the john. “You’re out of your league.”
Eddie bit back the urge to bitch-slap the guy.
For now.
Bellmore shook his head and waved his hands. His short, stubby fingers, weathered with time and neglect, landed against his face and stroked his dark straggly mustache. Wisps of grimy black hair peeked from under a San Francisco Giants baseball cap that was positioned perfectly to hide the upper portion of Bellmore’s face.
They needed a clear picture and Eddie needed a leg up on his smart-mouthed perp. He inched his hand across the table and laid claim to Bellmore’s steak knife with the tip of his forefinger. His attention remained fixed on his target as he dragged the eating utensil toward him in a deliberate, slow crawl. Without blinking, he snatched the knife and flung it at Bellmore, snagging his cap and pinning it to the wall.
Bellmore grabbed his bare head and whipped around, looking for his hat. “Freaking-A, Kemo Sabe.” He bounced back, gawking at Eddie with eyes ballooned by agitated surprise.
“You’re the one sweating, not me.”
“Huh?”
“You called me a soggy bush.”
“What?”
“A soggy bush. Kemo Sabe. It means soggy bush.”
Bellmore’s cool, aloof manner returned. “Are you sure?”
Not really, no. Eddie had no idea what Kemo Sabe meant. He’d bet Bellmore didn’t either. “I’m sure.”
The perp propped his hands on his thighs, tilted his head and looked at Eddie. He smirked, arrogance pouring out of his creepy grin.
Eddie flexed his hands and bunched them into fists at his sides. No, not yet. He couldn’t take him down, not until he’d gotten what he’d come for. Then he’d turn his new partner loose on Bellmore. That’s what this ill-mannered punk deserved, a little one-on-one time with Ms. Rio Laraquette—the most uptight, albeit beautiful, woman Eddie had ever met.
“Did you come here to do business or run your mouth?” Eddie raked his palm over his hair and loosened his ponytail. His head was starting to hurt.
“Okay, chief, show me the money.”
“I’ll show you the money when you show me the goods.” Eddie rocked the chair onto its back legs and folded his arms over his chest.
Bellmore shook his head and his bottom lip jutted out like he had chewing tobacco stuffed in his mouth. “Dude, you’re just a local player.” His gaze journeyed toward the door. “I don’t think you can come up with the cash…” His voice trailed off and his jaw dropped, Bellmore’s interest fixated on the diner’s entrance.
Eddie’s new partner waltzed into the diner. Her black skirt could’ve been a tube top once upon a time, until some hooker got hold of one and decided it was better served showing off her southern assets. A little red tank top clung to her curves like a thin layer of paint slathered over her breasts.
Rio Laraquette was all about looking the part. “
If I’m going to play a hooker
,” she’d said. “
I need to look like one
.” And she did. Granted, a high-priced one, but a hooker no less.
Being the new guy, Eddie couldn’t understand why nobody wanted to work with her. Rio was damn good at her job.
She strutted by and Eddie tilted his head, enjoying the view. Her legs, long and lean and looking good, streamed out from beneath her skimpy get-up. The good guy in him harnessed the bad and he checked his animal instincts.
“Hey, Tonto.” Bellmore’s voice barged into his thoughts. Eddie looked at his perp, but Bellmore’s eyes were on Rio. “Ain’t that your bitch, man?”
Eddie shot up and kicked the chair, slamming it against the floor with a loud WHACK. For a split-second Bellmore winced.
“You call me that again,” Eddie warned. “And I’ll kill you.”
Bellmore didn’t move. He sat frozen, his face frightened yet determined.
Eddie turned away. He had one chance to make this believable, and he was thankful Bellmore couldn’t see his face as he charged after Rio like a stampeding herd of buffalo.
Sensible judgment eluded him as he latched onto her arm and swung her against the wall. She landed with a thud, convincing him he’d been too harsh. “Sorry,” he mouthed, barely above a whisper.
Rio gave him a tolerant and forgiving smile. She winked and dragged a handful of strawberry-blonde curls out of her face. She had on a lot of makeup. The excessive eye shadow took away from the allure of her jade-green eyes.
“No, baby,” she said, in character. “I swear, I just need to use the toilet. I’m going right back out.”
“You better hurry up and get your ass back out there.” He gave her an appeasing wink.
A giggle resonated from Rio, lighting her half-opened eyes. She wriggled past him and disappeared into the ladies room.
Eddie cursed his luck. What were the odds of coming to Vegas and getting saddled with a partner who sent his pulses racing? Desire rumbled over him and he pushed it aside. He shouldn’t go there—no matter how much he wanted to—it was a bad idea.
He strode back to the table, keeping a stoic face to camouflage the irritability grinding his teeth. He drew a wad of cash from his jacket pocket and tossed it at Bellmore. “I got plenty of money.” He yanked the chair off the floor and settled into it with a mocking nuance. “But I want to see the guns first.”
“Ton—dude.” Splicing the two words together, Bellmore was unable to contain his nervous cackle. “You need to lighten up.” He peered at Eddie with a look that said he was scared.
“Shit, Bellmore. Now I’m starting to think you’re trying to con me.” Eddie’s anger seethed out in a cold tone that chased off his perp’s remaining confidence.
“Hey, man.” Bellmore rolled his eyes to the right, like he was stalling to search for some courage. “I’m for real and my goods is for real.” His expression softened and his tone followed. “I just have to be careful, you know. There’s cops all over the place these days.”
“You’re telling me.” Eddie’s jovial laughter dismantled the remaining tension.
Bellmore’s stiffened face eased into an overconfident grin. “Come on.” He removed his cap from the wall and positioned it back on his head, concealing the upper portion of his face. “My ride’s right out front. Let’s go take a look.” The unsuspecting perp headed for the door, coaxing him with a passive wave.
Eddie snatched the money off the table and stuffed it inside his jacket. “This better be good,” he said, moving outside.
“Good...?” Bellmore cackled, approaching a vintage 70s Camaro just outside the diner’s entrance. “Man, I got shit lined up that your player-ass can only dream about.” He paused at the trunk, keys in hand, and a salacious grin curled under his moustache. The fresh air must have renewed his false sense of security. “Where did you find that sweet piece of—”
“If you keep stalling...” Eddie cut him off. “I’m going to end up doing something you’re probably not going to like.”
“Okay, okay.” Bellmore complained in slow, dawdling movements and then did the dumbest thing imaginable. He opened the trunk right in front of the restaurant. “I was just wondering how much she costs,” he said, sounding like a wounded kitten who’d just tried to challenge his big brother, and lost.
“Trust me. You don’t have enough money.” Eddie’s attention cut to the trunk. The dark blanket crumpled over the compartment made the hairs on his neck rise up.
Bellmore peeled back the coverlet, revealing a bevy of guns. “Ain’t these beauties sweet?”
Most were recognizably illegal. A few, while legally attainable, Eddie would bet the serials had been removed.
“So how much for all of them?” Eddie rested one hand on the raised trunk.
Bellmore hesitated before answering. “Hundred grand.”
Eddie laughed.
“Okay, fifty.”
“Tell you what.” Eddie tapped his forefinger on the trunk twice before planting both hands on his hips. The perp needed a reason to negotiate. “I’ll give you thirty-five grand, and you get to spend some quality time with my best girl.”
The perp stared at the guns, lips moving silently.
“Well?” Eddie laid on the pressure.
“Two days.”
“Better take the deal before my offer drops to twenty-five and forget the girl.”
“Okay. Okay.” Bellmore gave in, seeing Rio exiting the diner. His interest lit and stayed on her. “Hey, baby. Get your sweet ass in the car.”
“Excuse me?” Ice daggers shot her words at Bellmore.
“Not yet,” Eddie said in a calm tone. “Not until the guns are transferred into my truck.”
Chattering voices turned Eddie’s head. Two hooker-looking chicks strolled toward them. He put the brakes on his urge to rant and curtailed it to just a thought.
Damn it
. This could turn ugly if they questioned Rio’s presence in their territory.
“J.B.” One of the girls chimed Bellmore’s initials in a sing-song voice. She looked high, and pleased to see him.
“Shit.” The word steamed through Bellmore’s teeth like the long, low whistle of a simmering teapot.
What? This wasn’t a good time? Looked like illegal guns weren’t the only thing Bellmore was supplying to the dark side of Vegas.
One of the hookers, the vocal one, shifted her gaze between Eddie and Rio. Eddie’s instincts magnified and he inspected the perimeter, looking for accomplices.
“Cop.” The hooker breathed the word, barely audible, yet Eddie heard it.
Uh-oh.
A distorted version of Bellmore’s movements stirred in Eddie’s peripheral vision. The guy was like a well-oiled machine dipping into the trunk and back out again. Eddie had no time to react and knew when he looked back at Bellmore, he’d see a gun pointed at his head.
Along the opposite corner of Eddie’s sight, Rio sailed toward them and dropkicked Bellmore to his knees, knocking the gun from his hand.
The weapon hit the pavement and discharged. The sound of the bullet ricocheting off the car resonated in Eddie’s ears. Instinct drove him to the ground.
Pain, sharp and stinging, blasted his left temple. Eddie slammed against the sidewalk. The space around him started spinning and his senses buckled.
The next couple of minutes played out as if he’d been trapped inside a haze. Undercover cops emerged from seemingly invisible places, swarming Bellmore and his hooker friends. Rio ignored the girls’ denials of wrongdoing and Bellmore’s unwavering insistence that he’d been framed.
Eddie’s headache intensified, swelling against his skull. His cognizance threatened desertion. He closed his eyes and remained still, willing away the stinging sensation.
“LaCall?” Rio shook him with a gentle nudge. “LaCall, can you hear me?” Her words breathed out with a forlorn sigh.
Mischievousness curled Eddie’s mouth into a playful grin. He opened one eye. “What? No mouth-to-mouth?”
“Damn it, LaCall.” She dropped to the pavement, as if he’d called her a speck of nothing. A used spec of nothing. “I thought you were dead.”
Not exactly the response or reaction he’d expect from an ice queen, the label she’d acquired from their coworkers. Perhaps unfairly.
“Dead? Not quite. Thanks to you.”
Still immersed in a hazy state of cobwebbed consciousness, getting up was harder than Eddie expected. A sitting position was as far as he got before the pain thumping against his skull yanked his concentration elsewhere.
He rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes, as if skewing his mouth could stop the agony from escaping. His fingers slid through the sticky, wet substance trickling along the side of his head and he knew he’d been hit.
Rio’s fingertips skimmed over his injury. “You okay?” she asked. “Maybe you should go to the hospital.”
Hospital? Was it that bad? No, it couldn’t be. He was conscious and he was sitting up. Not well, but he was sitting.
Eddie rejected the idea with a dismissive nod. To prove himself, he pushed up from the ground. His mind wavered and his body followed. He settled back onto the sidewalk and cradled his head in one hand.