“I’ll take your keys, too,” I say to the guard.
“Of course.”He hands me a carabiner with at least a dozen keys attached.
“And your code.”
“Five one seven one.”
I nod.“Thank you.Have a good day.”I enter the building, trying to keep the keys from jingling.
People are still pouring out of the building, their eyes wide with alarm and confusion.I edge to the side, use the momentum to push myself in the opposite direction until I’m through the lobby.The elevators aren’t working, so I walk past them to the door marked “stairs.”
Fuck.It’s locked.
The keys jingle.No problem.They aren’t labeled, so I try one.No go.The next.No go.The third.
Bingo!
The doorknob turns, and I run up the stairs.I’m in good shape, but it’s going to take some energy to get to the top floor, where Rogan’s suite is.Or is it a penthouse?Hell if I know.I’ve been there, but I was so engrossed in Rogan I took notice of nothing else.
Not my finest hour.
I hurry up the first ten flights of stairs hardly feeling it.These Vegas hotels are massive, though.How many stories does this one have?I read somewhere that the Bellagio has thirty-six floors…and the London is taller than the Bellagio.
Fuck.
I inhale deeply and take another flight.Then another.One more.
Yeah.There’s a reason why everyone hates the cardio stair climber at the gym.
I turn to begin the next flight when a figure whisks past me.“Get the hell out of here, lady!”He’s gone in a flash.
Where is everyone else?Surely they couldn’t have evacuated the place this quickly.Or maybe they did.Time seems to suspend itself when I’m with Rogan.I have no idea how long he and I were in that alley.How long I lay there after he ran away in wolf form.
I trudge up the next twenty flights before I have to sit and take a breather.The bomb squad must be here by now.If thereisa bomb, they’ll disarm it.If there isn’t, then I’m not in harm’s way anyway.
All is good.
I jump when my phone vibrates in my back pocket.I pull it out and read the text from a number I don’t recognize.
Get out of there! It’s not safe!
I ignore it and shove the phone back into my pocket.Someone knows I’m here.
Not good.
Is it Rogan?I doubt he can text without the use of opposable thumbs.Maybe he’s changed back already.
Doesn’t matter.I have a job to do.I take a deep breath as my heart finally begins to slow down to a reasonable pace.Then I gaze upward.Only about…ten or twelve more flights.After that I’ll be begging to be blown up.
I gear myself up and jog the last several—damn, it’s fourteen—floors.The same key gets me out of the stairwell and onto the top floor of the hotel.
The hallway is carpeted in blood red, and the wallpaper is black and white stripes.It’s oddly glamourous—something I might have gone for myself.I can’t see Rogan choosing it, but he probably had a professional decorator.Only a few doors line the walls of the hallway.Of course.His penthouse takes up most of this floor.Maybe all of it.
I dart my gaze down the hall.If I were an alpha wolf’s penthouse, where would I be?
If only I could remember more of the time I spent up here.
I inhale—