Winner by Harley Slate

Author:Harley Slate [Slate, Harley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
Publisher: Indie Ink
Published: 2019-02-18T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Lana turned in slowly. There were so few cabins they were numbered in the single digits, and there wasn't going to be anywhere to hide once she rounded that corner to see if the flash of silver really was Mel's Fusion. Instead, she paused outside the front cabin, the one with the glass window that looked like an after-market installation from one of the booths at a gas station. No one was sitting in the window at the moment. No big surprise there. It was probably a one-horse operation, with an alcoholic owner who spent most of their time snoozing in the back away from the light.

If life was like the movies, Lana could have got out of the car, rapped on the window for attention, flashed her gaming badge, and fooled whoever into thinking she was law enforcement. She could find out if Mel was checked in, get a key to her room, get all kinds of things. Alas, life wasn't a movie, and Lana wasn't going to gamble her gaming license on a possible charge of impersonating an officer.

With a shrug, she went ahead and pulled around. Mel was already out of the Fusion, her hips shifting easily as she settled the straps of a cross-body messenger bag into place. Gucci. Stamped black leather. Probably cost over a thousand bucks.

That was the Mel Lana knew.

The redhead tossed her hair over her shoulder and walked directly over to Lana's Camry to knock on the roof.

Lana rolled down the window, and they looked at each other. It was hot, too hot, to be standing around outside, and they both knew it, but for a minute neither of them could seem to breathe.

“What the fuck, Lana? You fucking followed me?”

“You came into my place, Mel. Again.”

“I'm a VIP guest at your fucking place. I have an invitation in fucking black and white mailed to me at my fucking house that says as much. Want to see?”

“I know all about the fucking fifty-dollar free-play coupon you didn't even remember to play.”

This was stupid. They were both going to die of being stubborn-ass buttheads, a previously unknown complication of heatstroke.

Mel touched the cross-body bag. The jackpot money must be in there. “Look. You've got to go.”

“I've got things to say, and I'm not leaving until they're said.”

Mel turned on her heel and walked away. Lana got out and followed. The old-fashioned metal key was attached to a blue plastic tag with the number five printed on it large enough to be read across the parking lot. Terrible security by modern standards.

The door opened on a room exactly as grim as Lana had imagined. Except she'd forgotten about those old window units that rattled as loudly as a big rig passing you on the interstate.

“What the hell, Mel? You couldn't stay in a better place than this?”

Mel folded her arms over her chest, a posture which also allowed her to reassure herself that the cross-body bag was still there. “I didn't choose the meeting place.

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