Smitten (21 page)

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Authors: Lacey Weatherford

BOOK: Smitten
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“That sounds like a great plan to me. I’d much rather be with you.”

“I worry about you having nightmares while you’re with him. I don’t know if you might talk in your sleep.”

“My nightmares have been
less frequent since you took me home, but I can understand why you’d be concerned.”

“I know being with him puts you under stress. I want you to feel safe.”

“What will be our excuse for tomorrow night?” I asked. “You know Ripper wants me to stay with him. It’s been hard to keep coming up with reasons to put him off.”

“We’ll think of something, and if we don’t, tell him it makes you uncomfortable. What’s the worst that’ll happen? He’ll dump you for not putting out? That’s more than fine by me.”

I laughed. “Me too. It’s funny really. He’s been a nice enough guy, but knowing what he’s capable of makes me feel sick to be around him. I don’t like it when he touches me.”

“I don’t like it either,” Hunter growled, a frown creasing his face. “In fact, I feel the extreme need to punch him every time he gets near you. Hang on a second.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “It’s Chris. He says for me to call him.”

“I hope everything’s okay,” I replied while Hunter pushed the card into the key slot and opened the door. I sat on the bed, watching expectantly while he dialed the number.

“Hey Chris, what’s up? Yeah, I can talk. It’s just me and Cami here at the moment.” He paused and then nodded as if he were agreeing with whatever Chris was saying. “How does that affect the deal going down here tomorrow?” He waited again. “Ripper and Roberta have gone to meet a guy named Ernesto at Mandalay, but he wouldn’t let any of us go with them. He said it was private. Okay, I got it. Send me the information when you have it. I’ll take care of things on this end. Thanks, Chris.”

“What’s happening?” I asked, feeling like I was about to die of curiosity.

“Chris said the body was positively identified as Manny. Their forensics search turned up blood evidence on Ripper’s toolbox in the garage. It’s a match. We’ve got him on suspicion of murder and grand theft auto.”

My heart pounded, with both relief and nerves—relief that everything was nearly over, and nerves from knowing I really had been spending time with a killer. “What happens now?”

“Tucson
PD is setting up a joint effort with Las Vegas PD. They’re going to tap into my phone signal and bust everyone at the car exchange tomorrow. Ripper will be extradited back to Arizona for the murder charges. Chris is going to send me information on the detectives who will be in charge of things here.” He smiled. “Hopefully, in the next twenty-four hours all of this will be over with.”

I stood up and wrapped my arms around his neck. “It can’t happen soon enough for me. Please promise me you’ll be careful.”

“We both need to be careful. Both of us will be there. Remember not to resist, and do whatever they tell you. They may not know who is who in the beginning, and it could cause things to get a little rough.”

At this point
, I didn’t care if a cop face-planted me into the dirt and cuffed me to a pole. All I could think of was one more day, and then it would all be done.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Cami-

 

“Cami! Cami!” Hunter’s urgent voice penetrated my sleepy mind as he shook me violently.

“What is it?” I asked, sitting up immediately
.

“Get your shoes on. We’ve got to go right now!” He was frantically throwing on his shoes, tying the laces.

I quickly did what he asked, wondering how we’d gone from a nice relaxed evening to this.

“What’s happening?” I grabbed my purse as he shoved his wallet back into his pocket.

“Turn off your cell phone,” he ordered me as he shut his down. “We’ve been made. Apparently, there’s a dirty cop here in Vegas. He intercepted Chris’s report and blew our cover to Ripper and Ernesto. Ernesto’s thugs are on the way here right now. Roberta managed to text me a warning. She said they don’t know my real name, only that an undercover officer had infiltrated, but they know it’s me.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door as I pushed the button to shut down my phone. “We’ve got to get lost here and find a safe place until we can get help. I can’t trust the police, because I don’t know who the leak is.”

My heart was racing, and I wondered if I was stuck in another bad nightmare. “Please tell me I’m dreaming,” I muttered.

“I wish I could.” He opened the door and peered out into the empty hallway. “Let’s go.”

We ran down the hallway toward the circular sitting area
, which had several halls branching off from it. Hunter paused for a moment, glancing between the hall of elevators and the bridge that led to another section of the hotel. “This way,” he said, guiding me toward the bridge.

The elevators dinged open behind us, but we didn’t pause to look and see who it was.
A guard sat halfway down the breezeway, and he stood, staring at us curiously as we hurried toward him.

“That’s them!” I heard
an unfamiliar voice behind us.

“Help,” Hunter said to the security guard. “Those guys behind us tried to rob my girlfriend.”

Immediately, the security guard reached for his Taser and called for extra reinforcements. Hunter didn’t stop running, dragging me through the maze of opulent halls as I tried desperately to match his long stride.

“Keep running!” he ordered. “Th
e guard won’t be able to hold them all off!”

B
usting through a set of doors that marked an emergency stairwell, we clamored down them as quickly as we could. My breath was coming in short, fast bursts, and I noticed his was too. We hit the door at the bottom, continuing down the corridor. Ahead, I could see the exit that led out onto the street, and we made our way toward it, surging through.

He glanced around quickly.

“Which way?” I asked, nervously checking behind us.

“We need to get away from the most cameras. They can track us that way,” He huffed. “I think we need to stay off the strip.” We started running again down the sidewalk, weaving our way through the throngs of
people, rudely bumping and jostling them. Several shouted as we passed by, but I was too scared to worry about apologies.

When we hit the corner, Hunter pulled me down the side street, never breaking his pace. I could feel my strength waning. I didn’t know how much longer I’d be able to
keep this pace. My lungs felt like they were on fire. “Hunter, I’ve got to catch my breath,” I pleaded.

He paused for a second to glance around. “This way. I have an idea.”

I numbly followed, concentrating only on staying next to him. He dragged me through a glass door into a very gaudily decorated foyer, which boasted several giant white, feathery plumes beside crazy-looking costumes of every kind imaginable. Music drifted from a small dimly lit chapel with a few rows of small white pews, and I suddenly realized it was one of those quaint wedding chapels Las Vegas was so famous for.

“Can I help you?” a
smiling lady in a white business suit asked from behind a glass counter. She was wearing a tag proclaiming her name, Marie Sanchez.

“Yes,” Hunter gasped, flashing his amazing smile. “We want to get married.”

She gave us a curious look, obviously wondering why we were panting. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “I’ve been trying to get her to say yes for ages. She finally did. We ran all the way here. I’m not taking any chances on her changing her mind.”

I offered the woman a smile, it was the best I could do at the moment.

She clasped her hands in front of her. “Well, you came to the right place. We offer several packages you can choose from. I’ll grab the catalog—”

“We want that one,” Hunter said, pointing to a photo of a man and woman dressed like Elvis and Priscilla Presley. It was awful. He grabbed me around the shoulder and yanked me up against him. “We want it all—wigs, clothes, everything. Give us the works. We’ve always been huge fans of the King, haven’t we, baby?”

I tried to keep my false grin plastered to my face. “Yep,” I panted out the lie.

“All right then. Follow me to the dressing rooms.” She led us around the corner and down a small hallway. “Here’s the bride’s room, and this one right here is for the groom. I’ll bring your wedding attire to you.”

“Sounds perfect,” Hunter replied, leaning to kiss my forehead.

“I’ll need your names and to see your identification. Also, if I could get a credit card from you, so I can print the paper work, that would be great.”

“Dylan Wilcock and Camilla Wimberley,” Hunter supplied, reaching into his pocket for his wallet as I reached into my small purse for my driver’s license. Hunter pulled out several cards, sorting through them before he found what he was looking for and hand
ed them to her. I gave her mine as well. “We’d like to purchase the costumes also, instead of renting them, if that’s an option—so we can remember this day.”

“Of course it’s possible!” she replied, sounding very happy at
the news. “I’ll be right back with them. I think I can appropriately guess your sizes.” She hurried off down the hall.

“Now what do we do?” I asked.

“We are going to get into these costumes. No one will look for us as Elvis and Priscilla and people won’t blink twice at seeing someone dressed like them here. After we’re dressed, I’ll pay for the costumes, and we’ll tell her we changed our mind. Then we’ll take a taxi to another hotel and check in under my real name and let Chris know what’s going on.”

“Sounds good.” I was glad he had some sort of plan. I was exhausted.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked, running his hands over my shoulders as he stared at me with concern.

“I’ll be fine. I’m just happy we got out of there. I take back every bad thought I ever had about Roberta. She really came through for us
.”

Hunter nodded. “She did.”

“Here you go,” Marie said, reappearing with two garment bags draped across her arm. “This one’s for you dear,” she handed the top one to me, “and this one is yours. I’ll be right outside the doors here, filling out the paperwork if either of you need any help.”

“Thank you,” I said politely, glancing one more time at Hunter before I stepped into the small dressing room. I pulled the white dress out of the bag. It had a high neck and lace
-covered sleeves. The rest of the dress fell in loose folds to the floor and had a massive train. It was quite simple—the high waist giving it a maternal appearance—almost like something a bride would wear to cover a pregnancy.

The veil had a crown and boasted yards of voluminous tulle, and there was a black wig in the package too. I sighed heavily. This was definitely not my idea of proper wedding attire, but it should suit
our purpose as a disguise. Hunter was right—no one would think twice about seeing someone imitating Elvis and Priscilla Presley in Las Vegas.

Dressing
quickly, I threw my belongings into the provided plastic bag, eager to get out of here and to a safer place. Chris would be able to send the help we needed, but I was afraid to trust anyone else at this point. It was a totally helpless feeling.

S
urveying myself in the large mirror, I dug into my purse for my eyeliner and applied it liberally to get into character. It was more than I’d ever worn in my life, but it would definitely complete the Priscilla look I’d seen in pictures and hopefully hide my true identity even more. Sighing heavily, I grabbed my things and made my way out of the room.

Marie was waiting for me there, smiling. “Here’s your ID
, dear. Mr. Wilcock is waiting for you in the chapel.”

I
slid it into my purse. “Thank you,” I said.

“And I need you to sign this piece of paper.”

“Okay.” I quickly did as she asked before following her to the chapel.

Hunter was standing there in a black brocade dinner suit and wig that matched Elvis’s famous hairdo. I had to bite my lip so I wouldn’t laugh.

He didn’t look amused, though. “Come here,” he ordered abruptly with a serious look. He held his hand out to me and pulled me close. “There are men outside the building looking for us,” he whispered into my ear. “Just follow my lead.”

Fear shot through me as I nodded. Hunter led me to the altar where a man in a suit was waiting. He smiled happily at us
, and I gave him a faltering smile in return. It was then I noticed the Elvis song,
Love Me Tender
, playing softly in the background. Another man I hadn’t noticed before stepped up to the side of us and began capturing pictures with his camera.

“Welcome, friends,” the minister began. “We’re so happy to have you with us tonight. Would you like the long ceremony or the short one?”

I heard the bell on the door jingle softly from the other room.

“The short one, please. We’re anxious to have this done.” Hunter leaned down and placed a kiss on my cheek. “Don’t turn around,” he warned quietly.

“Are you here for the Wilcock wedding?” I heard Marie ask whoever had entered.

“We are gathered here this evening to unite the two of you in love, which is the greatest of all things. So let us proceed. Dylan Wilcock, do you take Camilla Noelle as your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do,” Hunter replied. My hands were trembling as my ears strained to catch more of the conversation behind us.

“No, I’m actually looking for
a girl and someone by the name of Wilder who ran off together. We’re trying to stop the wedding,” an unfamiliar male voice spoke. “Do you have any other couples here?”

My heart was pounding so loud I was sure the man could hear it.

“Camilla?” the minister’s voice interrupted me, the camera still flashing in my face.

“What?” I asked, confused. He raised his eyebrows and looked toward Hunter in question. “Oh, I mean, yeah. I do. Sorry, I’m a little nervous.”

“No, I’m afraid not,” Marie responded. “This is the only couple here.”

The minister shot an anxious glance down the aisle behind us
, and I was sure he was worried about us being angry over the loud talking behind us.

Hunter cleared his throat calling the minister back to attention.

He sputtered and smiled as he quickly searched for his place. “Then by the power vested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

Hunter grabbed me, his lips crushing mine. “Just keep kissing me,” he whispered as the photographer continued clicking away.

I did as he asked, shaking, hoping the monstrous veil was hiding us enough from whoever was observing. I heard the door chime again, and I hoped it was the man leaving the building.

“Congratulations!” Marie said from behind us.

We gingerly turned, scanning the room. It was empty. I couldn’t help my sigh of relief.

“The limo you asked for, Mr. Wilcock, is
at the curb waiting to take you to your hotel. Why don’t you come here and get a few more pictures under the arch.”

We did as she asked, both of us pausing to give nervous glances toward the door. The photographer snapped a few more photos.

“We’ll send the proofs to the email address you gave me, Mr. Wilcock. Congratulations again!” She handed him a large white envelope and the bags with our belongings. “Here’s your receipts and certificate. Thank for your business.”

“Thank you,” Hunter smiled and shook their hands before turning and kissing me again. “
Keep your head down when we go outside, like you’re watching where you’re stepping.”

I nodded and followed him. Maria helped our escape by throwing rice at us as we ran across the sidewalk, giving us a plausible excuse to duck. I slid into the open door the driver was holding
, and Hunter slid in beside me.”

“We did it,” I said.

“Don’t count your blessings yet,” Hunter said warily. “We need to make sure no one follows us.”

I sighed heavily
, leaning my head back against the seat. “Will this thing ever be over?”

“Soon, Goody. Real soon.
Hang in there.”

“Where to, Mr. Wilcock?” the driver asked as he slid into the front of the vehicle.

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