hell! The bastard had a gun to her back!
Conner leaped from the car and barreled down the street to her aid, knocking people aside, apologizing as he ran. It took him about seven seconds flat to reach her. They were the longest seconds of his life.
“Hey!” he yelled just before flinging himself onto the douchebag’s back. “Get away from her!” A mistake. The man was quick. He spun, saw Conner and took off, just missing being tackled. Conner managed to avoid mowing down Vera, but when he veered, he slammed into the streetlight post. Stars burst in his head.
“Conner!” Her voice echoed like he was in a tunnel. “Oh, my God! Conner! Are you okay?”
He gave his head a shake to clear it as well as his hearing. “Did someone catch that guy?” he demanded, scanning the area around them. Concerned tourists looked back at him blankly.
Damn.
“That was him, wasn’t it?” Vera said, obviously totally freaked out. “The guy who broke into my apartment. He had a gun, Conner! He was going to shoot me!”
The circle of tourists glanced nervously in the direction the man had run, and started to back away. Out on the street, car horns started honking.
“Damn. I left the car running down the block.” He grasped her elbow firmly. “Come on. We’re going back home.”
She dug in her heels. “No, Conner,” she protested. “I have to go to work!”
He towed her along unwillingly. “You were nearly mugged, woman! Or worse. How can you even consider—”
“I told you. I don’t have a choice. I need my job. Please, Conner. Let me go. He just wants the ring, and I don’t have it. I’ll be fine.”
Silver had thought she was safe, too. Right before a thousand tons of pipe and wood had crashed down on her. She was still emotionally traumatized by the attack.
Damn it, he didn’t want Vera in danger, too. But that determined look was back in her eyes. He knew he’d lose this argument. “All right. But I don’t care how long it takes. You’re not walking. Get in the car.”
Thankfully she didn’t argue but slid back into the car, if reluctantly.
“Did you get a close look at his face?” Conner asked her once he’d calmed down enough to think rationally. “Would you recognize him again?”
She shook her head. “No. I didn’t dare turn around when he had his gun in my back. I didn’t see his face at all. Did you?”
“Just from a distance, and I only caught a glimpse of it. But I think I’ve seen him before. I’ll have Duncan pull video from the traffic cam.” He pointed to the unobtrusive camera pointed at the intersection. “With luck, it got a good shot of him, and we can identify the bastard once and for all. At least see if he’s the same guy I suspect of taking the Quetzal from police headquarters. ”
And hurting Silver.
And possibly murdering Candace.
“Damn it! I don’t want you going to work tonight,” Conner said, slamming his fist on the steering wheel. “I’ll pay your salary—whatever you would have made.”
She stared at him for a moment, then smiled weakly. “I know you just want to help, but…I can’t do that.”
“I’m not trying to buy you, Vera.”
“I know that. But, no, thanks.”
It took them ten minutes to drive the block and a half to the Diamond Lounge parking lot. By the time they got out of the car and he escorted her to the stage door, she’d composed herself completely. He didn’t know how she could be so calm. Or so stubborn about accepting his help. A man had just tried to kill her!
Since Conner wasn’t an employee of the club, the guard wouldn’t let him in the side entrance.
“Be careful,” he admonished Vera, giving her a worried kiss. “I’ll be in the audience all night. If you need me just yell.”
She smiled and touched his cheek. “My hero.”
He knew it was just teasing, but her endearment made him feel warm all over. Or maybe it was just the hot Las Vegas night wind. People had given him a lot bigger compliments, accompanied by far more substantial rewards than a smile. So why did every little thing this woman do affect him so deeply?
He made his way around to the front, directly to the head of the line of schlubs waiting to get into the exclusive club. As an Old Las Vegas landmark, the Diamond Lounge was extremely popular with tourists and locals alike. But it didn’t surprise him that the bouncer immediately recognized him, either from the society pages, or because he’d been part of the stir last night.
“Evening, Mr. Rothchild. Welcome back,” the brawny man said, ushering him past the velvet rope.
After paying his exorbitant cover, he was immediately shown to the same table as last night, right in front of the stage. He suppressed a chuckle of amusement. Had Vera really told them he was her sugar daddy? He wouldn’t put it past her. She had a wicked sense of humor, that woman.
This time a whole bottle of champagne appeared on his table, served by a pretty petite brunette who displayed her nearly nude body invitingly for him as she poured.
He was so not interested.
A beautiful redhead came out onstage in a sexy French maid’s outfit and for the next fifteen minutes did a very energetic number with the center pole. The men perched on the bar stools arranged against the edge of the stage cheered and groaned in approval.
Conner drained a glass of champagne and was actually bored. He was only interested in seeing one certain, particular woman take off her clothes. And the thought of her doing it in front of all these clowns was making him want to swallow the whole damned bottle.
He checked his watch. Eight-thirteen.
Vera didn’t come on until eleven.
Hell. It was going to be a really, really long night.
He was out there.
Conner.
Why did the thought of that one man being in the audience put butterflies in Vera’s stomach and impossible feelings in her heart? Feelings of warmth and affection, and sadness and regret, all balled up in one giant knot?
She was falling in love with the man. That’s why.
Despair filled Vera as she prepared to go out onstage. For the first time ever, she didn’t want to do this. Wished she’d chosen a more conventional means of making a living. Hadn’t let a thousand men see her wearing nothing more than a G-string.
Stop it! she told herself.
There was nothing wrong with what she did. And it wasn’t as though she’d had a lot of choice.
As Jerry the stagehand pulled back the curtain for her, she thought about all the times she’d strutted out onstage and enjoyed
