Love, Lies and Bow Ties: Love, Lies and More Lies, #8

1

Gabe Cavanaugh tugged at his bow tie as he tried to focus on his cards. An eight and a queen. Or maybe it was a king. Hard to tell when you were drunk and busy watching Isabel Sanchez, the cute little cocktail waitress he’d met last night, as she sauntered by. What a welcome distraction. She gave him a flirty smile as she delivered drinks to a group of guys seated at a nearby blackjack table. They grinned appreciatively while ogling her breasts .

Forcing himself to concentrate on the game once again, Gabe glanced at the cards on the table top. The dealer had a ten and a four showing, which meant she had to take another hit. Lucky for him she turned over a face card. Unable to help himself, he grinned as he exposed his cards, but rather than play another hand he gathered his chips—except for the hundred-dollar one he left as a tip for the dealer—and slid off the stool. That was enough blackjack for him. He was up a few thousand dollars but if he didn’t get some sleep soon they would have to scrape him off the floor. Last night’s bachelor party and then the wedding tonight had done him in. Not to mention the smoke in the Las Vegas casino was irritating his eyes and the bells and whistles were giving him a major headache.

Hey, Izzy, he said to the cocktail waitress as she moved closer, balancing her tray in front of her.

How did you do tonight? She’d been stopping by the table and supplying him with alcohol the past few hours. Izzy had mile high legs that started at the black, leather shorts that barely covered her round shapely ass and ended with her four-inch, fuck-me red shoes. To complete the package she had C-cup breasts that showed just the right amount of cleavage and an interesting face that was cradled by a head of long, brown curls. Not to mention those chocolate eyes and full, red, luscious lips he wanted to taste. But hell, he’d tried that last night and she’d turned him down flat.

If he just wanted to get laid he could have picked up one of the chicks at the wedding reception. There were certainly a few who had shown an interest in him, but after meeting Isabel Sanchez last night he knew no other female was going to satisfy him. Or at least he didn’t believe so. Then again, why should it matter? He probably wouldn’t remember them in the morning anyway. And it wasn’t as if he was ever going to see them again. He’d be flying back to Red Ridge, Kentucky at noon tomorrow. Hell, he thought, glancing at his watch. It was already tomorrow.

I’m up a few bucks, he said with a wink. I’m going to go cash in.

She walked beside him, picking up an occasional empty or abandoned cocktail and placing it on her tray. You look rather handsome tonight. Special occasion?

A buddy of mine got married. Thus the reason for the tux. He tugged at his bow tie once again. He hated ties of all kinds. Placing his chips on the counter for the cashier he waited for the guy to fork over the cash then stuffed it in his jacket pocket. Any chance I can talk you into having a drink with me?

She smiled brightly, her straight white teeth a nice contrast to her olive skin. She was almost as hot as J-LO, if that was possible. Giving her the onceover, he decided Izzy could definitely give the star a run for her money.

Absolutely not, she said. We both know you want something more than a drink, and I told you last night I’m not that kind of girl.

Right. So I take it you don’t want to come up to my room and tuck me in bed? Or maybe read me a bedtime story? He was doing his best to flirt with her but he doubted it was working.

She laughed. No, but I’ll walk you to the elevator. How’s that?

That sounds good. He tried not to look disappointed.

Just as they made the turn toward the bank of elevators Izzy stumbled and spilled her tray of glasses. Gabe bent over to help her pick up the mess just as two guys hurried over to help them, or so he assumed. But seeing the knife in the older man’s hand poking at his side had him straightening. He was Hispanic, probably in his fifties, with dark tanned skin and slick black hair.

Don’t try to be a hero or my buddy will slash your girlfriend’s pretty face.

The buddy looked to be in his thirties. Again, Hispanic with much lighter skin. Gabe glared at him, noticing he was not only sporting a knife but he was holding a squirming Izzy by the arm. Gabe knew his eyes and the set of his jaw conveyed the fury within him. Shifting his heated gaze away from the attackers he quickly checked out their surroundings. Where was security? This wasn’t the place he normally stayed when he was in Vegas. The Bellagio had plenty of security guards roaming about and guarding the elevators as well. But his friend had reserved rooms here because it was cheap. It was nearly four in the morning and very few people were heading toward the elevators to go up to their rooms. Only an elderly couple and a group of drunk, middle-aged women. But no one seemed to be paying them any attention. Above the noise of the slot machines a vacuum cleaner could be heard and the occasional scream when someone got lucky at the slots.

Look, let the girl go and I’ll give you whatever you want. Gabe knew what they wanted was money, and he certainly had plenty plus the gold Rolex he was wearing.

Get in the elevator, the man said instead, giving him a shove into the car. The younger man led Izzy inside the elevator car as well and pushed the button for the nineteenth floor. How the hell had they known what floor his room was on?

While the guy’s back was turned, Gabe knew this might be his only chance to save Izzy and himself. He lunged at the older man and managed to dislodge the knife from his hand. It fell to the floor with a clanging sound. But he hadn’t expected the other guy to be quite so fast. Gabe took a barrage of fists to the face and gut while Izzy was screaming for him to stop. If he hadn’t been drunk he probably could have taken these two bozos, but once he was on his ass there was no getting up. He was too drunk. The last thing he remembered before passing out was the heel of a leather boot in his face.

Izzy helped Gabe to his feet, which wasn’t an easy task, and herded him out of the elevator. Which way? she asked, and after looking one way and then the other, he pointed to the right .

His attackers had rummaged through his pockets, taken his wallet and the cash he’d just won, along with his expensive looking watch and his cell phone, but had tossed the room key aside. Lucky for them.

Gabe leaned against her as they half walked and half stumbled to his room. He was barely coherent. Although he had sworn several times using a few choice phrases she’d never heard before. Not that she could blame him after what they had done to him.

I’m going to call downstairs and get you a doctor.

No. No doctor. I’ll be fine, he said as he hobbled over to the king size bed and flopped down on his back. What about you? Are you okay? Did they hurt you?

I’m fine. Other than her trembling hands and limbs. She still couldn’t believe it. The nerve of those assholes.

Just call security. Report the bastards who did this.

They’re probably long gone by now, she argued. They would be fools to stick around.

Just make the call, he ordered. He closed his eyes then, winced with pain and promptly dozed off.

Izzy inspected him through watery eyes. Look what they did to you. His face was red and swollen, his bottom lip bleeding. Spying the ice bucket on the desk, she took it down the hall, filled it to the top and let herself back in the room with the key card. Then she made an ice pack with a hand towel from the bathroom, came back to the bed and sat down beside him. She pressed the cold pack to his face while trying to be as gentle as possible. He didn’t make a move or a sound. Good. Maybe he’d feel better in the morning. Thank God there were no open wounds on his handsome face to leave a scar.

Feeling horrible, she brought her free hand to his wavy hair and ran her fingers through it. It was thick, long on top and the color of tawny gold. His face and neck were tanned, making her wonder what he did for a living. If she had to guess she would say he worked outdoors. Maybe he was a lifeguard although that didn’t seem quite right. Perhaps he worked in construction. Or maybe he was a fire fighter or a farmer. And what did it matter?

She was never going to see him again, she thought with a loud sigh.

He could have died. Why had he tried to fight them? Why not just give them the money and all would have been okay? Swiping at a falling tear, she ran her gaze up and down his muscular frame covered by the tuxedo.

Thinking the bow tie might choke him, she removed it from his neck and unbuttoned his collar, trying to make him more comfortable.

Gabe Cavanaugh was hot. And not just hot, but sexy hot! With his twinkling green eyes he was the kind of guy who could talk a girl out of her panties with a simple wink and a few compliments. Of course, he’d tried that with her last night but it hadn’t worked. Not because she wasn’t attracted to him and not because she hadn’t been tempted. It was because she had sworn off men for the time being. It had been two years since she had so much as even dated a guy. She’d never met one she could trust. And frankly, she was tired of being used.

They seemed to think because you were a cocktail waitress and wore skimpy clothing that you were easy. A slut perhaps. Well, if sleeping with three guys over the past ten years made her a slut, then so be it.

She positioned the ice bag to rest against his cheek, then stood, went to the end of the bed and removed Gabe’s shiny black shoes. Walking over to the wall of windows she set the shoes on a chair and peered out at the dazzling lights of the strip. It would be dawn soon. That’s when everything looked its prettiest. The sidewalks and streets would be nearly empty, the traffic would begin to thin out, and the purple and pink sky would loom over the horizon, promising another scalding hot day.

She should probably leave now. Nothing more she could do for Gabe. Besides, she didn’t want to risk being here when he woke. But the bottoms of her feet burned from working a ten-hour shift. Sitting down on the opposite side of the bed, she slipped out of her heels, letting them drop one at a time to the floor with a muffled thud, and rubbed at her tired achy feet. She just needed to rest them and her eyes for a few minutes then she would be on her way.

It was a forty-five minute drive to her crummy apartment. When she’d arrived in Vegas a little over three years ago it had been the only affordable place available within driving distance to work. Plus it was furnished, right down to the linens and dishes. She’d never realized how expensive it was to live in a big city when she’d decided to make it her home, although she had somehow managed to get by. If only she had been able to save a little more money in her emergency fund, she would be feeling less stressed right now. Because it was time to move on. Another city, another job.

She hated running but she didn’t have a choice. She was done with that life. And if they could find her here, and they had, they could find her anywhere. The question was; where would she go now?

The Big Apple? No. Too many people. Plus it would be way too expensive. What about somewhere in Florida? She’d never been to Florida. Had never stuck her feet in an ocean. It might be fun and relaxing to go to the beach on her days off. Or instead, maybe she should try for a small town, somewhere they would never think to look for her. But small towns were usually closed communities and the folks there asked way too many questions. Were entirely too suspicious.

With a sigh and a moan Gabe turned toward her, slung an arm around her waist and tugged her down to lie beside him. She didn’t fight him because he didn’t appear to be fully awake. He was in no shape to force her into anything. Besides, she could take care of herself. Well, only because he was drunk and seemed to be a gentleman.

Stay with me, he whispered.

Lying perfectly still she let him pull her closer. After a few moments she heard the soft purr of a snore. His arm around her and the heat radiating from his body was so comforting she couldn’t move. And shortly thereafter she joined him in slumber.

Gabe peered out of one eye at the bright sunlit room then quickly closed it again. Something thudded in his head like a jack hammer. He had a hangover, or worse, if there was such a thing. And then memories from the night before came rushing back to him, bits and pieces at a time .

Being best man at Ben Elwell’s wedding. The two men who had relieved him of his money and kicked his face in. The beautiful girl who had helped him to his room. Izzy. Izzy Sanchez. Waking early this morning and making love to her in spite of every bone and muscle in his body being on fire. Wait a minute. What? Was it true? He and Izzy?

Both eyes flew open and he tilted his head to the side to see her sprawled next to him in the bed. She was lying on her side, sound asleep and naked. Completely naked. The covers were missing from the bed, exposing every inch of her. He raked his eyes up and down her sexy body from the swollen lips and the razor burn on her cheeks, to her full breasts with dark, rosy nipples, then onto her shapely ass and mile high legs. His gaze lingered nakedness for several moments. Holy fuck! He’d slept with a fair amount of beautiful girls and women since the ripe age of fourteen, but none as enticing as this ethereal female. He sure as hell hoped he’d used protection.

Something twinkled as he lifted his head from the pillow. It looked like an emerald attached to a chain around her neck. It seemed to be in direct contrast with the multiple rings she wore on her fingers. He quietly left the bed, trying not to groan aloud as he headed to the bathroom to relieve himself. Looking in the mirror he saw the reason for the throbbing headache and realized it was more than just a hangover causing the pain. He swore as he turned his head from side to side to inspect the damage. In addition, his chest cavity screamed in protest. Did he have a broken rib or what? If he ever got his hands on those two guys he would make them pay for what they did.

He opened the bathroom door to see Izzy sitting on the edge of the bed and scrambling into her clothes. She let out a squeal when she saw him. Then her gaze drifted over his naked body and she squealed again. She obviously wasn’t used to seeing naked men. I’m not that kind of girl.

Good morning, he said.

Morning? she said with a raised brow. It’s almost noon. She buttoned her white blouse all the way to the neck. I have to go. I’m sorry about . . .

You’re sorry? For what?

Last night.

The assault? he asked, and she nodded. It wasn’t your fault. He glanced about the room, spotting his boxers poking out from beneath the bed covers that lie in a heap on the floor. He made his way over to the bed, sat down and pushed his legs into them. By the time he was through Izzy was completely dressed. Don’t you want to shower?

No!

Okay. She seemed to be in a big hurry. Him, not so much since he’d already missed his flight back home. Which got him wondering how he was going to fly without any identification. He couldn’t even rent a car without a driver’s license, plus he didn’t have any cash or credit cards. Fuck!

He focused on Izzy who was stepping into her red heels. I assume you reported the assault last night, right?

Oh, yes, she said. Of course.

And what did they say?

She gave him a careless shrug. Nothing really. They searched the hotel and couldn’t find your attackers anywhere.

His attackers? Well, I’m sure they have plenty of surveillance cameras around. It shouldn’t take long to identify them. Are we supposed to go to the police station to file a report?

They didn’t mention anything about that.

That’s strange. Well, did they mention what I’m supposed to do to get home without any money or identification?

Her chocolate eyes widened. No, but if you need some cash I can spare a little. She grabbed the black apron she’d worn around her waist the night before and pulled out a wad of bills. Here. Take this. Maybe you can call the bus station.

The bus station? No way. I’m not taking your money, Izzy. Her tip money. Then a thought came to mind. I wonder why those assholes didn’t take your tips.

I don’t know, she said, averting her gaze. I really have to go.

What’s the rush?

I . . . I’m moving today and I have to get home to pack.

You’re moving? Today? Where to?

I’m not sure yet. Maybe Florida. Or maybe a small town or a big city somewhere in the Midwest. Or the southwest.

She wasn’t making sense. Something had her rattled. And it had more to do than the fact that they’d had sex last night. Was she afraid their attackers might come back? They searched the hotel and couldn’t find your attackers anywhere, she’d said. Your attackers. They hadn’t touched her apron yet everyone knew that was where a waitress kept her tips. It didn’t make sense.

I think we should go to the police.

I don’t have time, she said with a shake of her head that made her long curls bounce against her shoulders. Besides, what good will it do? Those idiots are probably in another state by now.

Well, can I at least use your phone before you leave?

She hesitated a moment before handing it over.

Gabe tried his brother first. No answer. Next he tried his sister but as the call went directly to voice mail he remembered both Jake and Eden were flying to Rome today, along with their spouses and kids. Upon arrival they were hopping a boat to take them on a river cruise. Fat chance he was going to be able to reach them today. May not be until tomorrow or later in the week. He called his credit card company next, reported his card stolen. They promised to cancel it immediately. He could call his bank tomorrow morning and see if they could wire him some money.

As he was going over his options he wondered if Western Union would require an I.D. to pick up money. Of course, they would. But rather than wait another day to find out he decided to call his friend Ben. He might still be in the hotel.

Hi. You’ve reached Ben, the happiest man on earth. Caitlyn and I are on our way to Budapest to spend our honeymoon. We’ll talk to you when we get back.

Gabe swore as he disconnected the call and handed the cell back to Izzy. I know you want to get going, but maybe you could wait until I shower. Then we can go downstairs and talk to security so we can figure this thing out.

She appeared to be thinking it over. Sure, she said finally. I’ll just wait right here for you. She pulled out the desk chair and sat down, finally looking calm.

Unless you want to join me, he teased, knowing she wouldn’t. Although if she said yes he would welcome the opportunity to bang her again since he barely remembered anything about the wee hours of the morning.

She smiled sweetly, looked down at her red nails before meeting his gaze. No. Last night was a mistake. I was tired. You were hurting. I don’t know what I was thinking, she said, smoothing a hand over her curls.

Right, he said with a nod. I’ll just be a minute. He padded back to the bathroom, shut the door, and inspected his face once more. But before he had a chance to turn the water on for the shower he heard the hotel room door close. He peered out of the bathroom. She was gone. Son of a bitch!

On the desk sat a note and several bills. Maybe a hundred bucks at most. I’m sorry, the note read. Glancing around the room, Gabe grabbed his tuxedo pants from the floor and stepped into them. He didn’t see his shoes anywhere but a pair of white terry hotel slippers lie on the floor near the bed. So he slipped them onto his feet, ran out the door and into the hall.

There was no sign of her. He ran to the elevator, ignoring his aches and pains, and impatiently stabbed at the down button several times until the car arrived. On the ride to the lobby floor he tried to make sense of everything. The assholes that’d attacked him hadn’t touched Izzy’s tip money. She wasn’t the least bit interested in reporting the incident to the police either. She’d said she’d reported it to Security, but had she? He was willing to bet she hadn’t bothered. I’m sorry about . . . she’d said. You’re sorry? For what? he’d asked. Last night, she’d answered. The assault? he’d asked and she’d nodded. It wasn’t your fault.

Or was it? No. How could it be? He went over everything. Well, everything he could remember. Izzy tripping and spilling her drink tray. The two assholes moving in on them, forcing them by knifepoint into the elevator. One of them pushing the button for the nineteenth floor. How had they known what floor he was staying on? He may have mentioned it to her but how would the guys know? He attacking the younger of the two men then getting beaten and his face kicked in by both of them. Izzy screaming at them. What had she said?

Leave him alone. Stop! Don’t hurt him. You promised you wouldn’t hurt him.

Holy fuck! She’d been in on it. She’d set him up. And then she’d slept with him. Why?

The elevator doors opened and Gabe rushed toward the lobby just in time for him to see Izzy speaking to someone at the front desk.

Izzy? he called out and caught a strange woman casting a cagey look his way. At his attire mostly. Tuxedo pants, terry slippers and no shirt. Not to mention his face looked like he’d gone a few rounds in the ring with Joe Frazier.

Izzy turned and saw him, but rather than stay put she ran toward the front doors.

Izzy! He’d almost caught up to her when two security guards started jogging toward him. Stop right there, Mr. Cavanaugh. There seems to be a problem with your credit card. Skipping out on your bill is a crime. The police will be here momentarily.

What the fuck! He had to think fast. I’m sorry. My name isn’t Cavanaugh. I’m Mr. Frazier. Room twelve thirty-four.

When the two men stopped in their tracks and exchanged a confused look, Gabe made a run for it. Outside, he tried to decide which way Izzy had gone when he saw a sign that read Employee Parking. He followed the arrows, leading to the underground parking garage and was nearly mowed down by a light blue Volkswagen Beetle with the top down heading up the ramp. Izzy was behind the wheel and before he could think of how to stop her he jumped over the door and tumbled into the front seat.

What are you doing? she screamed at him just as the security guards shot out the front doors.

Drive! he ordered and rather than argue, Izzy hit the gas.

2

Izzy couldn’t believe what was happening. Gabe Cavanaugh was in her car and there was no escaping him. Pushing her sunglasses a little higher on her nose she tried to pretend she couldn’t see him. But there he was, larger than life and just inches away from her. He wasn’t wearing a shirt—the smattering of golden brown chest hair fluttering in the wind. And were those slippers on his feet? He looked ridiculous .

She took a corner too fast and worried she might roll the car. Gripping the steering wheel a little more tightly than necessary, she kept going. To where, she didn’t know. Yet she was aimed in the direction of her apartment. Oh, right. She had to go home to get her things and then she’d find another home, another town, another job. Another lonely life. Because she rarely made friends. Didn’t want them nosing into her past, catching her in a lie as she made things up as she went along. The way it