Kellie smoothed her fingers across Anna’s name on the paper, and her vision blurred once again.Anna? Jerry knows where she is?Her head jerked up as she searched for a street sign—something to tell her where she was. She laughed in relief as she spotted the cross street ahead. Thirteenth—and she was on Bridger. Fremont was only a few blocks north.
Was it a trap? If Jerry’s intent was to catch her and turn her over to Tony, why did he let her go? Why the ruse? No…he knew something about her sister, and the only way Kellie would find out was to go to Wally’s Tavern. She’d come too far to quit now.
Trying hard to keep her pace to a walk, she hurried along the street. Her wet gown wound around her legs and made her work for each step. Kellie clamped her mouth shut to stop her chattering teeth as she turned north on Fourteenth. After two of the longest blocks she’d ever walked, she halted in front of a grungy building with a flickering neon sign proclaiming Wally’s Tavern.
The building was old and shabby. Repairs had evidently been neglected for some time. She didn’t really expect her sister to be inside, did she? Or someone who magically knew where Anna was? On the other hand, she couldn’t walk away without knowing for sure. She had to go inside and prove to herself Jerry’s note was only a cruel hoax.
Facing Wally’s Tavern, Kellie straightened her shoulders. Head held high, she stepped toward the door, using both hands to push the heavy wooden panel inward. She shuffled just far enough over the threshold for the door to close behind her. A few seconds later, her eyes adjusted to the dim interior.
A man stood two feet away on her right, so close and so tall she had to look up to see his face. An impression of piercing blue eyes and bulging muscles made her do a double-take and woke the butterflies in her stomach. His perusal didn’t waver, and she finally stopped gaping long enough to focus on the only occupied table…
Oh shit.
Chapter Two
MacGyver threw back the last half of his drink and grimaced as the foul liquid went down. He’d just about had all the watching and waiting he could stand. Not only could the rotgut that masqueraded as house bourbon at Wally’s Tavern double as paint remover, but if he heard one morea-man-walked-into-a-barjoke, he was likely to go postal on someone’s ass.
He turned his tumbler over on the pock-marked table and pushed his chair back. Somehow, they’d gotten bad information. If his partner, Travis, was set on continuing this dead-end stakeout, he could damn well do it himself. MacGyver was calling it—time of death…by boredom…five fourteen p.m.
He was one stride from a much needed breath of fresh air when the door burst open and in walked what was sure to be trouble…in a wedding dress.
Soaking wet from head to toe, the dress caressed her curvy figure, giving every able-bodied man in the place a damn good idea what she looked like naked. MacGyver forced his scrutiny from her generous breasts as the blonde stopped abruptly just inside the door. For the count of five, she checked him out while emotions he couldn’t quite read flitted over her features.
She froze, then slowly turned her head to inspect the gray interior of what was arguably the shoddiest drinking establishment in downtown Las Vegas. The most amazing green eyes he’d ever seen skittered away from his and came to rest on the three unshaven, hard-ass, leather-clad bikers who’d been drinking steadily at the only other occupied table. Her expressive eyes widened with a definite oh-shit expression. Immediately, she backpedaled, clearly trying to take her leave before any of Wally’s riffraff noticed her.
It was already too late.
The biker boys, apparently as surprised as MacGyver at the lady’s sudden appearance, stared for all of three seconds before two of them jumped to their feet.
“Whoa, where ya goin’, honey?” The dark-haired man, whom MacGyver had pegged as the self-imposed leader of the group, strode across the wooden floor and caught her arm, raking her with his lascivious gaze as he dragged her toward their table. “You just got here.”
The woman drew her free arm back, her fist clenched, and damned if it didn’t look like she was about to coldcock him. MacGyver tensed. He’d seen their type before. Guys who wouldn’t hesitate to hit a woman if provoked. Though she probably didn’t want his help, MacGyver would be on the right side of that fight in a heartbeat.
“Hey, barkeep. Got a dry towel back there?” The youngest of the three caught the cloth the bartender tossed from behind the bar and shoved it toward the woman’s chest so she was forced to grab it, disrupting any plans of resistance she might have had.
The boss man pushed her into a chair on the far side of their table.
And just like that, she was in deep shit.
What the hell was she doing in Wally’s? One look told MacGyver she was so far from the kind of woman who normally frequented this bar she might as well be from another planet. She was a lady—or at least the closest thing to one he’d seen come through that door. The flash of anger in her eyes and the way she carried herself—arms close to her body, paying attention to every move the bikers made, poised and ready, for what he didn’t know—told him, though uncomfortable in the situation, she wasn’t a pushover.
He’d bet her wedding gown, while wet and muddy, hadn’t been cheap. Nor the diamond earrings that matched the string of gems that hung around her neck. The shoes she wore were utilitarian and didn’t match the rest of the outfit, but her sexy ankles, peeking from beneath her hem as she eased onto the chair, would easily hold the biker dudes’ attentions and probably amp up their covetous natures. She might as well be wearing a sign identifying her as rich and completely out of her element.
Women like her usually stayed as far away from this part of Vegas as they could. She was lucky it was still light out. People were generally safe if they minded their own business when they passed through during the day. After dark, it was a whole different story.
Still, MacGyver had to give her credit. Though she’d hung back at first and at least thought about punching the guy, she hadn’t lost her cool, finally settling into the chair somewhat gracefully. A forced smile didn’t quite hide her inner turmoil as she dried her face and arms. Fighting or insulting bottom-dwellers like those three, especially when they’d been drinking the whole damn day, would only hasten the trouble that would no doubt arrive eventually.
“Give us a round of tequila shots, bartender, and bring some salt and lime.” The boss man sat on her left, and the kid took his seat across from her and to the right of the third member of the group, who hadn’t yet moved from his spot.
Obviously, the biker boys knew a good thing when they saw it, and they weren’t about to let this one get away. That she was clearly out of their league and only putting up with their bad manners because, at the moment, she had no choice, did nothing to deter them. By the time she’d towel dried her hair, there were three shots lined up in front of her, and her would-be rescuers were practically salivating like a pack of hungry wolves. The fact she was a blonde-haired babe with mesmerizing green eyes and a killer bod wasn’t helping her…whether she knew it yet or not.
Now would probably be a good time for him to stop staring and get the hell out of here. One last look at the woman, and a smidgeon of apprehension nudged his gut.Shit. It’s a lousy idea to get involved.
He jammed a hand into his pants pocket and brought out a fistful of change. The barely audible sound of a cricket alerted him to an incoming text, and he fumbled for his phone as he continued to the vintage jukebox on the far side of the door. Dropping the coins in, he punched a random set of buttons. The lonesome strains of George Strait’s “Baby’s Gotten Good at Goodbye” drowned out the instructions the reluctant bride was getting from her tablemates—the fine art of tequila shooting.
What the hell?The text was from the congressman who’d hired MacGyver’s private security company to locate a missing person. The case was the reason he was currently in this dive, waiting for a local PI their client had also hired. The text—well…it changed everything.
MEET GIRL IN WEDDING DRESS IMMEDIATELY. WALLY’S. CRITICAL YOU KEEP HER UNDER WRAPS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.