has whatever she needs. Fair enough?”
I nod. Because I certainly can’t ask more than that. “Except she already tried to leave once, and he must know it. He’s never going to let her out of his sight.”
“Oh, I think we can work something out. Come on.”
The hotel has a private reception lounge just past the main entrance where VIP guests can check in and receive concierge services with an elevated amount of pomp, circumstance, and pampering. We go inside, and I pace while Damien issues a series of instructions. Then he takes my arm and we both step behind the counter where one of the clerks is checking in a new guest. Hidden from the guests’ view are a series of monitors, including several showing the driveway and valet stand in front of the hotel. It’s a customer-service feature that allows VIP guests to rest inside in comfort, confident that one of the clerks will inform them when the valet pulls up with their car or when their limo has arrived.
I have a feeling Damien has something else in mind.
I watch as Marcy stands by her luggage, her shoulders slumped.
A woman rushes by, bumping into her as she tries to roll an overnight case.
Marcy looks up, startled, as the woman grabs hold of her for balance. Then she pulls away and moves on down the drive.
“Wait,” I say. “Can you rewind that?”
“No need,” Damien says. “She slipped Marcy a note.”
“What’s it say?”
“When you get inside, use the ladies room.”
I frown—and I understand why Marcy, who is surreptitiously scanning the note, also looks confused.
“Now this,” Damien says, and we watch as one of the uniformed valet chiefs approaches Jay. “It turns out that Jay’s car has a flat tire. Very unfortunate timing,” he says, and I laugh. “So Jay and his companion will be invited to enjoy the hospitality in this VIP lounge while the tire is being changed.”
We watch as Jay and the valet have a heated conversation—well, heated from Jay’s side—and then the valet gestures toward the hotel. “That’s our cue,” Damien says. “Come on.”
“Our cue?” I ask, but I follow him to the back of the room and into the ladies lounge.
I lean against the wall and raise my eyebrows. “Really?”
He shrugs. “Trust me.”
I do. And less than two minutes later, Marcy steps through the door, her face flushed, obviously terrified that Jay is going to catch on.
“Nikki!” Her voice is a low, happy whisper, and she gives me a tight hug. “I’m so sorry. Everything you did for me, and I—”
“What happened?” I ask. “Why did you come back?”
She glances at Damien, then at me.
“Marcy, this is my husband, Damien Stark.”
“Oh! Well, thank you, too.”
“Nikki tells me she put you on the road to Texas. How did you end up back here?”
“He called,” she says. “And he said that if I didn’t get my fat ass back right that second—that’s a direct quote—he’d kill Chester.”
“Chester?” I ask.
“My dog,” she says. “He’s a rescued greyhound. Sweetest disposition, and such a hard life. And Jay just tossed that out there like—” She swallows and blinks back tears. “I had to come back.”
“Of course you did,” I say, though I’m secretly wishing that she would have called me. Damien could have easily sent someone to get the dog before Jay got home.
“I need to know if you want to leave again,” Damien says. “I can have someone go get your dog. Make sure he’s safe, and then get him to you in Texas.”
“You’d do that?”
“If it’s what you want.”
“Yes.” She nods, then takes a deep breath. “He—he hits me. I don’t want to ever see him again.”
Damien looks at her, his expression tender. Then he puts a hand on her shoulder. “Done.”
When we follow him back out to the lounge, I can see that Marcy is nervous. But Jay is nowhere to be found.
“Did the car get fixed?” I ask. “Did he leave?”
“He’s in one of the offices,” Damien says. “Having a chat with Ryan.”
“Oh.” I nod. “Good.”
“Come on,” he says to Marcy. “Let’s try this again.”
This time when her SUV disappears into the lights of the Strip, I don’t expect to see her again.
I stand for a moment with Damien’s arm around my waist, then I lean against his shoulder. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” he says.
He turns me, then kisses my forehead. “Go on back to your room,” he says. “Ryan and I will wrap this up.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to make sure he never bothers that