Hours later, sitting in the library, flipping through archived news stories, she felt more confident than ever that the cases in Vegas were linked—not only to the Williams attacks, but to the Hudson victims as well. The similarities between attacks were uncanny and downright eerie. The more she studied, the more convinced she became, and in turn the hotter her temper flared. There was simply no way the Vegas attacks should have been discounted before charging Williams.

The girls all matched the physical profile, the marks on the arms were the same, they were all college students, and the timing of the attacks worked. Yet the Vegas cases would have proven Williams wasn’t guilty, and put someone’s head in a noose for the unsolved crimes. Now, she knew, someone wanted a fall guy and Williams had been the unlucky candidate.

Greg, Lindsey thought. He had been pining for political office, and he needed the conviction. Damn.

Shoving a strand of hair behind her ear, Lindsey yanked open her calendar and started charting dates. When she was done, she sat back and scanned her work. Just as she suspected, a single perp could have been responsible for all of the attacks. The timelines fit and the aggressiveness of the attacks, if reviewed from the first Hudson rape, had progressively gotten more violent. It was typical for a repeat offender. They tended to get more confident with performance and therefore more aggressive. Squeezing her eyes shut, Lindsey fought the suffocating feeling, fear-based, threatening to consume her.

The real perp was still at large.

Hours later Lindsey arrived back at her dark, empty hotel room with heavy thoughts. As she flipped on the light, her eyes darted hopefully to the message button on her phone. Disappointment settled hard in her stomach. Mark hadn’t called. Dropping her face into her hands, she fought the urge to scream and throw things. Or cry. She really, really needed a good cry.

Why did life have to be so complicated?

After a good thirty minutes of pacing, Lindsey decided she had to get out of the room. She’d go crazy alone in her room, lost in her negative thoughts. And she did love roulette. It would be good for a few hours of escape. A mere thirty minutes later, dressed in a black, slim-fitting dress, she stepped into the casino.

Scanning the tables, she looked for a roulette table that felt lucky. She might not trust her instincts in a criminal investigation as readily as in the past, but she had a sixth sense for roulette. An empty table called out her name, drawing her to its side. She took the middle seat, giving her full access to all numbers. To complete her escape, she ordered a Screwdriver.

The roulette dealer was a good-looking guy in his late twenties with a military-style buzz haircut. “So, what’s your name?” he asked with a look in his eyes that said he wanted to gobble her up.

“Lindsey,” she responded lightly, trying to ignore his flirtatious stares.

He nodded. “I’m Greg.” He pointed to his badge and offered up a bright, white smile as he waved a hand across the wheel. “No more bets,” he said to the players.

Lindsey wrinkled her nose as she watched the little white ball spinning on the wheel. “Greg?” She flicked him a quick glance and then returned her attention to the slowing white ball. “That’s a bad luck name for me. I might have to change tables.”

The ball bounced into the number eight peg, and the dealer dropped the marker onto one of Lindsey’s chips. “It’s not bad luck tonight. You just won.”

Lindsey clapped and gifted him with a happy smile.

He laughed in return. “Why is Greg bad luck for you? Ex-boyfriend or something?”

She raised her brows and gave a quick nod. “Yeah, something like that.”

His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t press the subject. Lindsey busied herself placing chips on the table as he kept talking. “Where are you from?”

“New York,” she said and then corrected herself, “I mean Washington.” She groaned. “I think I need another drink.”

“Maybe you don’t if you can’t remember where you are from,” he teased, but flagged a waitress.

Lindsey dropped a five-dollar chip resolutely. She was ready for the spin. A quick nod to Greg and the ball was bouncing. “So are you here with this Greg guy?”

Lindsey laughed a little too loudly. Alcohol on an empty stomach was making her a little over the top. She waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, please, no way. I’m alone.”

“Alone?” he said, with a satisfied gleam in his eye. “Well, that is the most interesting thing I’ve heard all night.”

Lindsey was saved from responding when two older gentlemen joined the table. The excitement around the wheel escalated and more players joined the table. Soon there was a crowd, and Lindsey was smack in the middle of the play and loving it. She ordered several drinks, and focused on gambling, determined to keep her demons at bay, if only for a short window of time.

Tomorrow there would be plenty of time for worry.

* * * * *

Tired, irritable, and completely out of patience, Mark handed his bags over to a bellman and then plodded through the hotel lobby. The flight had been turbulent from start to finish, literally tossing passengers from side to side. Any hope of sleeping had been thrown out the window, leaving him with nothing to do but think about his troubles with Lindsey. Sitting still while his mind raced had been a difficult task that resembled torture.

Over and over in his mind, he’d contemplated her reaction to his arrival. It wouldn’t surprise him if she yelled. His unannounced arrival would most certainly piss her off; he really didn’t care. He’d spent the past several hours dealing with every possible angle she could throw at him. Ready for battle was an understatement. He was a bull ready to charge. It was time he and Lindsey set some rules.

He had no intention of going to any room but Lindsey’s. Stepping to the check-in desk, Mark informed the desk clerk he needed a key for Lindsey’s room. As expected, he was informed he’d need Lindsey’s approval before receiving a key. Giving the man a sly, knowing look, he discreetly slipped him a hundred-dollar bill. Without further ado, Mark was handed a key.

Standing in the elevator, his body pounded and pulsed with the anticipation of holding Lindsey, touching her. He almost laughed out loud as he thought of his previous night’s declaration of being hands-off until their business was complete. What a joke, he thought. Depriving himself of Lindsey was like taking a bottle from a baby.

Impossible.

He was so hooked, he should be scared shitless. But he wasn’t. Not at all. And that little fact said it all. He was falling in love for the first time in his life. The old cliché “head over heels” finally meant something to him.

Loving Lindsey was complicated, and he knew it. She came with emotional luggage galore. Simply proclaiming his love wouldn’t work with her; in fact, it might drive her away. No, with Lindsey he’d allow her time to get used to the two of them together.

Arriving at her door, Mark knocked lightly. When no answer came, he slipped the key through the slot and entered. The room smelled soft and feminine, like Lindsey. Her scent wrapped around him like a soft glove, making him groan at her absence. Marching to the window, he stood in frozen silence. Lights twinkled beyond the glass, but he didn’t pay them any mind.

He was too absorbed with his next step. Why couldn’t she have just been in her room? “Damn,” he muttered, shoving a hand through his hair. Well, one thing was certain, he couldn’t just sit in the room and wait for her. He had to at least attempt to find her. If she was in the hotel, he would track her down. If not, he would end up back in the room. The thought made him grimace and head for the door with added determination.

Finding her on the slots would be near impossible, so he made a beeline for the tables. To his relief he spotted her almost immediately. She stood at a roulette table full of men. The flimsy black tank top of her dress revealed the creamy white skin of her back and shoulders. Skin he longed to touch. There was no doubt a few of the men around the table had the same desire.