Colorado 03 Lady Luck Read Online Free PDF Page A

king-size bed. And
he was doing it under Mr. and Mrs. Walker.
    I did not think this was good.
    “How many nights will you be staying, sir?”
the desk clerk asked.
    “Three,” Walker answered.
    Oh shit. Three? Three nights?
    What were we going to do in Vegas for three
nights?
    “Excellent,” he picked up a form and put it
on the counter. “If you could fill that in and give me a credit
card –”
    “Cash,” Walker rumbled and the clerk looked
from his computer to Walker.
    “That’s fine, sir, but we like to have a
credit card on file just in case you use the mini-bar, should you
like a movie –”
    “Cash,” Walker repeated.
    The clerk blinked up at him clearly having
been lost in a fog of customer service and seeing just about
everything in Vegas, he was used to blocking it out. Now, he was
fully taking in Walker and processing what he saw, all of what he
saw and just how much of it there was.
    He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing then
he started, “It’s policy, sir, to –”
    I stepped in mainly to move this along
because I knew Ty Walker would repeat the word “cash” until we were
physically ejected or the clerk gave up and I needed to, first, see
what the hell was up with him getting us one room, second, attempt
again to figure out what was happening and my part in it, third,
take a shower and fourth, sleep in a bed or, better yet, buy a
swimsuit and sleep by a pool.
    I dug in my purse saying, “I’ll give you my
card. You can have it on file but when we check out, we’ll pay in
cash. Cool with you?”
    The clerk’s relieved eyes slid to me and he
nodded.
    “Room safe,” Walker stated at this
point.
    “Of course,” the clerk murmured on a bow of
his head toward Walker. “All our rooms have safes. We’ll set that
up for you.”
    Walker stared at him half a second then his
eyes did a sweep of the immediate area.
    I handed the clerk my card, filled out the
registration form, took my card back and the clerk handed Walker
our little envelope with its keycards, wisely not noting that my
credit card said Alexa Berry and not Alexa Walker. After I filled
out the form, as he processed us, I tried not to think where Ty
Walker would get cash to pay for a swanky Vegas hotel room
considering he walked out of prison not twenty-four hours ago with
nothing (that I knew of) but the clothes on his back. He didn’t
even have one of those big plastic Ziploc baggies in his hand
holding his belongings that recently released prisoners on TV shows
were given.
    Nothing.
    But that duffle.
    A duffle packed by Shift.
    Shit.
    “Room six twenty-three. You’ll find the
elevators over there.” He pointed to his left but Walker was
already walking that way.
    I smiled at the clerk, expressed mumbled
words of gratitude, grasped the handle on my bag and followed
Walker.
    He tagged the button before I got there and
I stopped close to him.
    “Hubby, we need to chat,” I said quietly,
his chin dipped into his neck to look down at me, his face still as
impassive as ever and then his head turned and he looked over his
shoulder.
    When he kept looking, his eyes honing in on
something and staying there, I turned to look too.
    He was looking at a man who was standing at
the reception desk. He was super slim and when I say that I mean
bag of bones thin. It was a wonder his clothes stayed on him, he
was so skinny. He had light brown hair with a hint of red in it but
he didn’t have much of it. It was thin everywhere, seriously light
on the top and clipped super short. He wore glasses. His features
were pointy. Considering he wasn’t much to look at, I was surprised
to see his clothing was of very good quality and suited him as best
they could given his stature.
    And he was looking right at Ty Walker, as
bold as you please, checking in at the reception desk but staring
at Walker at the same time looking knowing in a way that made
something unpleasant crawl along my skin. If he sneered, I wouldn’t
have been surprised. But it