“My first chemo session is set for Monday,” Nick said. “I won’t be much good after that, so I’ll need somebody in charge here.”
“I’ll be there, Nick. You can count on me. But it’s a shame you never took down Louis Divino. After all those years of trying to nail him, you deserved that victory.”
“Oh—I didn’t tell you,” Nick said. “Divino’s gone. Some boater on Lake Travis hauled his body up with the anchor. He was shot through the head with a .38, at close range, back to front. Probably a gang killing. I’m glad somebody got the sonofabitch, even if it wasn’t me.”
“Do you know who’s taken over in his place?”
“I haven’t a clue. I guess that’ll be your problem. Good luck with it.”
“Take care of yourself, Nick. I’ll be there for you, I promise.” As he spoke, Sam felt a lump rise in his throat. If ever he needed to keep his word, it was now—to the man who’d been his friend and mentor since the early days of his career with the FBI.
After ending the call, Sam crossed the floor to the north-facing window of his hotel room. Opening the curtains, he stood watching the sky darken into night. The lights of Las Vegas spread below him like a vast, illuminated Persian carpet. So many lights. So many people. So many heartaches.
As his frustration overflowed, Sam mouthed a curse. Why couldn’t he just wrap up this case, go back to Abilene, and take up where he’d left off with Jasmine? All he needed to do was place Roper under arrest for murder. Then he would be free to get on with his life.
So why didn’t he—when every shred of evidence pointed to Roper’s guilt?
Sam’s thoughts were scattered by the jangle of his phone, which he’d left on the coffee table. Striding back across the room, he picked it up and took the call.
“Sam?” The husky, feminine voice stopped his heart.
The last time they’d spoken—a furtive call on a burner phone—she’d been in Austin, taking care of her terminally ill mother. She’d sounded nervous, he recalled, but she’d assured him that everything was all right. It was only later that he’d begun to worry about Louis Divino and his connection to Madeleine. When he’d called again later to warn Jasmine, she hadn’t answered. He’d left a voicemail on the burner phone and waited for a reply that never came. He’d worried about her, but he’d known better than to try again.
Now, Divino was dead, and here she was. Stunned, he found his voice. “Are you all right, Jasmine?”
“I’m fine.” He heard a muted sob. “Oh, Sam, I’ve missed you so much!”
“Where are you?”
“I’m here, in Las Vegas. I just got in from the airport. I’m staying at the Excalibur. I can’t wait to see you.”
Could this be real—or had his fantasies gone to his head? “How did you know where to find me?” he asked.
“Mariah called me as a favor to Mother. You know how much Mother likes you and wants us to get together. She keeps talking about her future blue-eyed grandchildren.”
“Your mother?” Sam felt the vague sensation of having fallen down a rabbit hole. “But isn’t she sick? Isn’t she …”
“Dying?” Jasmine laughed. “Oh, Sam, you know Mother. She didn’t really have a brain tumor. It was all an act—a way to get some things she wanted. She’s fine. In fact, she ordered me to leave her. I’ve been staying in LA with a friend from my old Hollywood days, so it was just a quick flight to Vegas. I can’t wait to be with you. Can you come to me tonight?”
Yearnings too long denied surged through Sam’s body. He stifled a groan. “Jasmine, I’m still on this case.”
She was silent for a moment—not a good sign. “We’ve behaved ourselves for weeks, Sam. Don’t we deserve a break?”
When Sam didn’t reply, she plunged ahead. “We can be careful. I’m being careful now. I’m calling you on the room phone, not my cell. And I’m not even staying in your hotel. But the Excalibur is close—just a short cab ride or a nice walk.”
“Jasmine, I can’t—”
“Why not? Nobody knows us here. Who’s going to find out?”
“Jasmine, listen—”
“Blast it, Sam, I’m not going to beg you,” she snapped. “If you care more about your silly rules than you do about me, that’s your loss. In case you change your mind, I’m in room 1620. But I won’t call you again. I have my pride.”
The call ended with a click. Sam checked the impulse to hurl his phone against the wall. He loved Jasmine to the depths of his wretched soul. He loved her with a hunger so intense that it kept him awake at night. He wanted to spend his life making love to her, building a home, and filling it with their children.
But why, in the name of heaven, did she have to show up here now?
Sam laid the phone on the coffee table and sank onto the sofa with his head in his hands. He reminded himself of the vow he’d taken as an FBI agent. And he thought about Nick, putting his cancer treatment on hold to buy him more time for this case.