As answer, he beeped the locks, opened the door and folded into her sweet ride.
Chapter Two
Be Happy
“Mr. and Mrs. Walker, king-size bed, not by an elevator or any f**kin’ vending machines.”
I pressed my lips together to keep quiet.
We were in Vegas, the slot and video poker machines ringing behind us as we stood at the reception desk and Walker checked us in.
It was very early morning. The sun was shining and it was already so hot out there, I broke into an instant sweat the minute I unfolded out of my Charger and this happened even though we were under an awning so the sun wasn’t directly hitting me. Luckily, we only stood out there for long enough for Walker to grab the huge-ass, black duffle Shift had put in my trunk and warned me not to open or “hell would be paid” and then heft out my roller bag and drop it to its wheels on the pavement. He walked away, leaving my bag where he put it. I yanked up the handle, followed him to the valet rolling my bag behind me, he exchanged keys for ticket, pocketed the ticket and entered, destination: reception desk.
We drove all night. For some reason, since our destination was obviously Vegas, Walker took what turned out to be a circuitous route that added hours onto our travel time. He did not explain his to me, any of it, where we were going or why we took that route. Conversation was non-existent. I listened to my iPod and slept a bit.
Now he was checking us into one room with 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.