He waited awkwardly on the sidewalk, with arms crossed, thinking the situation through.
He looked over at Janie on the telephone. He'd help her find her sister. Once he knew she was okay,
then he'd leave. With the Eye.
But not before.
After a minute, she hung up. "They're in Vegas. The Boss contacted Lenny, since he couldn't get through to me anymore. He's on his way there now, too."
She noticeably shivered. It made Quinn mad as hell. Who was this asshole boss of hers who had such power over her? Janie wasn't the type to be afraid of anyone or anything. If it was the last thing he did,
he'd make sure not only Angela was okay, but Janie, too.
Thenhe'd leave.
And the sooner they took care of it, the better.
"The Boss will be there this evening," she said. "Barkley's still trying to get a fix on Angela—he and
Lenny are going to get a room at the El Diablo. Do you really think he can do it?"
Quinn nodded. "I know it." He hoped he sounded confident enough. "We'll go rent a car right now.
Hopefully they won't hold my last rental against me. It was a rather hefty security deposit."
"We?"
"Yeah. That okay?"
She raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to fight me to the death for the Eye now that I have it?"
He shrugged. "Like you said, it's dented now. I only fight to the death over mint collectibles. You should see some of the Star Wars figures I have in storage. People have been hospitalized trying to keep me from a perfect boxedBobaFett ."
She laughed. "I'll remember that."
He looked away. "There's got to be a way everyone can get what they want."
"I hope so." She looked sad. "I really do."
So did he.
"Welcome to El Diablo." The valet, dressed head to toe in red, gave them a big smile as Quinn and Janie got out of their rented Toyota Camry. "I hope you enjoy your stay with us."
"I wouldn't count on it," Quinn said as he gave the guy a five-dollar bill and the keys.
As they entered the casino hotel, Quinn glanced at Janie out of the corner of his eye. Conversation had died down to a bare minimum in the car over the past five hours. Not much to say. She still had the Eye in her possession, and it made him more than a little nervous. She'd tucked it into her jeans and under her jacket so it was barely visible along the line of her clothing.
He motioned for her to go through the revolving entrance ahead of him.
She eyed him. "Such a gentleman."
"I do try."
She snorted. He wasn't sure if she was laughing at him or with him. What the hell was it about this woman that made him so uncertain and unsteady?
Didn't matter. This was almost over. The odds of them spending any time together in the future were slim to none. The thought was surprisingly unsettling.
"Welcome to El Diablo Hotel, Casino, and Convention Center!" a pretty brunette behind the check-in counter said brightly. She wore all red and had tiny sequined devil horns pinned into her hair. "Do you have a reservation?"
Quinn shook his head and produced a credit card. "No. We need two rooms, please."
"I'll see if we have anything available." She took the card and tapped on her keyboard. "Mr. Quinn, I believe you're mistaken."
He frowned. "About what?"
"We do have a room reserved for you already."
"Really?" His frown deepened. Had Barkley done that for him? He did know they were on their way.
"Well, great. My friend here will need a room, too."
The clerk gave Quinn a key card and instructions on how to get to his room on the seventeenth floor. He looked down at the receipt and saw his own name along with another name he recognized.
His father's.
Before he'd died, Roger Quinn must have reserved an extra room for his son so they could attend the convention together. Which would explain why the room was so damned expensive. His father preferred the best of everything.
Thanks, Dad, he thought morbidly.
Quinn glanced nervously around the El Diablo lobby, decorated to look like a scene out of Dante's
Inferno, including smoking dry ice and large black iron gates to hell—leading directly into the casino area.
Janie nudged him aside and got her own room. The clerk ensured they'd be on the same floor.
Terrific. Just what he needed.
They walked away from check-in and past a poster propped on an easel:
El Diablo welcomes members of the VHA for their 42nd Annual Convention.
He started to laugh and slapped a hand over his mouth before he drew any attention. Or risked showing his fangs.
VHA stood for the Vampire Hunters of America. He was still a member in good standing. It had seemed like a good idea coming there. Now that they'd arrived, he wasn't so sure.
Low profile. Check things out. Then leave first thing tomorrow. Or earlier if possible.