Dark Salvation Part 22

DESMOND TIMED their departure to the minute. He arrived home half an hour before sunset, packed his bag, put two bottles of medicine in a cooler, made sure both Gillian and Mrs. Waters knew what was expected of them in his absence, and escorted Rebecca through the employee elevator to theunderground parking garage just as night claimed the sky.

She carried her own suitcase and held tightly to his hand, although she did scan the parked cars, muttering numbers under her breath.

"Three hundred eighty-seven," he whispered, amused to see she was still trying to find answers to the questions she'd posed when she first arrived.

She blushed.

Desmond's car waited at the curb. He turned to see Rebecca's reaction.

She glanced at him, the car, then back at him. "It's a very pretty car."

Picking up their bags, he chuckled at his own foolishness, like a raw boy trying to impress her with the power and speed of his chosen vehicle. "You don't even know what kind of car it is, do you?"

"Of course I do! It's a...sports car."

Still smiling, he dropped the bags in the trunk. Rebecca tried again. "An expensive sports car."

He shut the trunk and came back to open the door for her. "It's a Lamborghini."

Settling into the leather interior, she smiled up at him with a devilish twinkle in her eye. "So I was right, then."

He leaned down to kiss her, captivated anew. A moment later, he lost himself in her honeysuckle sweetness, letting his mind drift with hers. She broke off the kiss with a mental wrench that staggered him.

"Enough of that. We don't want to be late to our own wedding."

"Don't worry." He patted the car's hood as he circled around to the driver's side. "That's the advantage to a car like this. You can make up lost time."

Her laughter rang out like a carillon of bells. "If we got involved now, the car doesn't exist that could make up that much time."

He slid into the driver's seat and strapped himself in place. Firing up the engine, he paused to carry her hand to his lips for a brief kiss. "What can I say? Where you're concerned, I'm insatiable."

She drew in a sharp breath, and images of the two of them entwined rushed over him. He felt himself hardening in response to her desire, and jerked his hand away. Throwing the car into gear, he squealed out of the garage. It was going to be a long drive.

They rolled through the night, the headlights picking out stands of aspen like pale ghosts in protective circles amid the darker blackness of the ponderosa pines. Rebecca thumbed through his a.s.sortment of CD's, looking for suitable background music.

"I can't believe this. Big Band tunes, jazz, folk trios, rock music, and new age instrumentals."

"So? I have eclectic tastes."

"I'll say." She snorted and pulled out another CD. "I've never even heard of half these people."

"Expand your horizons." He reached over and pulled out a CD at random. "Have you ever heard this one?"

She looked at the casing. "Vangelis? No. What's he do?"

"Listen and find out."

Shrugging, she opened the case and popped out the CD. A few moments later, the first invigorating notes of an instrumental piece cascaded through the car's sound system, and she was hooked.

Like a child with a new toy, exploring Desmond's music collection kept her occupied for the rest of the trip. He'd convinced her of the merits of Mozart and Vangelis, and she'd agreed to reserve judgment on swing and barbershop, by the time the lights of Las Vegas appeared in the distance.

Not only was the horizon bathed with the multicolored glow he remembered from his last trip, a beam of pure white shot straight into the sky with a luminescence so bright it was blinding.

"Do you want to go to the hotel first?" Rebecca asked. "Or should we get the license first?"

"The hotel. And then we need to buy rings. I'm sure there must be a store still open. The court house is open all night, so we don't have to rush." It seemed too amazing to be true, that in a few short hours, Rebecca would be his wife. She sat with her head bowed, silently shuffling the CD's.

Desmond reached out and clasped her hand. "Nervous?"

"A little." She gave a shaky laugh. "I thought it was the groom who was supposed to get cold feet."

"I planned ahead and wore thermal socks." "Oh, you-" She chuckled with real humor, and playfully swatted at his arm.

He pulled off the highway, and onto Tropicana Boulevard. Rebecca leaned forward in her seat and scanned the darkened streets.

"I thought there'd be more lights."

"Don't worry. There will be." A quick left and a right looped them around the airport, bringing them out almost at the end of Las Vegas Boulevard. Before them stretched a s.h.i.+mmering vista of rainbow hued light.

"Look! It's a pyramid! And a castle!" Rebecca leaned past him to gawk, then spun to look out her window with a giggle. "A Polynesian village. Oh, look at that gate, made out of light. It's beautiful! Is that another pyramid?"

He kept silent, letting her enjoy her first sight of the hotels and casinos. He'd been here twice before, and each time it seemed to get larger, louder and brighter. After a lifetime spent trying to avoid notice, such blatant plays for attention made him uncomfortable. But he had to agree, in its own way, the city was truly amazing.

"It's a lion!" Rebecca laughed and squeezed his arm. "What's next?"

"What's next is a traffic jam," he muttered.

After spending fifteen minutes watching the same ads scroll by in foot high letters on ten-foot tall screens, the city's lights no longer seemed so glamorous. In fact, Desmond and Rebecca made a game out of finding the missing light bulbs in the signs, with Desmond looking for missing red bulbs and Rebecca looking for blue ones. Green bulbs counted for either one of them.

"Finally," he sighed, turning across traffic into the hotel's driveway. The backlit Roman statues and lighted water fountain would have been garish in any other surroundings. Here, it seemed tasteful and subdued.

He helped Rebecca out of the car, while a bellman emptied the trunk and an eager looking valet held out his hand for the keys. The fresh-faced boy looked out of place, as if a Mormon native of Utah had migrated southwest for the winter and had been unable to complete his return trip in the spring. Desmond handed him the keys wrapped in a ten dollar tip.

The bellman advanced on them with a smile. "Welcome to Las Vegas. Are you here to get married?"

"Yes," Rebecca answered. "How'd you know?"

"You had that look about you. When's the happy occasion?"

"Two o'clock in the morning," Desmond told him, nudging Rebecca toward the door. "We really need to get checked in."

"Congratulations! If there's anything you need, you just call down to the front desk. Or I can bring it up to your room with your luggage." The man's grin widened.

"Actually," Rebecca said, "we need to find a jewelry store that's open."

"You're in luck! Our Forum Shops stay open until eleven o'clock, and we have some wonderful jewelers. If you'd like, I can point them out to you on the map."

"Thank you. That won't be necessary." Desmond pulled Rebecca through the doors into the blinking, flas.h.i.+ng, clanging foyer. Slot machines jangled their happy melodies and poured change into steel buckets, all the while advertising their wares in colors as bright as they'd seen on the Strip. The registration area off to the side was slightly more subdued, but the cling and clang of winning spins provided a constant background accompaniment.

"Welcome to Caesar's Palace. May I help you?"

"We're checking in. The name is Lacroix." Desmond placed his credit card on the marble counter.

"That says Prescott Inst.i.tute," Rebecca whispered.

"It's a corporate card. I don't have a personal one."

She nodded to herself. It was almost as if he'd just confirmed something for her, but he didn't know what. Why would she care about his credit cards? Of course. Not his credit cards, his credit.

He grinned. "You little minx. You tried to run a credit check on me before you came out here, didn't you?"

"You can't blame a girl for being careful," she tossed back. The clerk shuffled slowly through a pile of papers. When Desmond and Rebecca didn't say anything else scintillating, the woman handed them a hotel folder.

"These are your room keys. Instructions are on the back." She slid one of the plastic cards out of the folder and flipped it over, then tapped the circled number on the folder. "This is your room number.

Memorize it, don't write it on the card or on a piece of paper you carry with the card. Your room is in the Olympic Tower, straight through the casino. You see the Emperor's Club booth? Head for that. The elevators will be on your left. The bellman will bring your luggage up."

"Thank you," they chorused. Sharing a laugh, Desmond wrapped his arm around Rebecca, and she nestled close against his side. Her thoughts curled just as closely against his, in a tumult of antic.i.p.ation, proving how deeply she trusted him by lowering her mental barriers. He s.n.a.t.c.hed the packet off the desk and hurried her toward the elevator. He wanted to drop his own s.h.i.+elds and melt into her. But they needed to reach the room to merge together properly.

He stopped, halfway across the casino, chilled by his near lapse of judgment. Surrounded by blinking, beeping, clanging distractions, he couldn't see the walls, let alone look for the sundries shop he knew must be somewhere in this lobby.

"Hon? Is something wrong?" Rebecca asked, leaning close to be heard over the din.

"No. I'm just looking for the gift shop." He started walking toward the elevators again. Once they got out of the casino, they could skirt the edges until they found it.

"The gift shop?"

"Mm-hmm." They exited the casino, into a quieter area of shops and restaurants, and he pulled her aside. "Gillian's more than enough to handle. I don't really want another child right now. Do you?"

Rebecca's blush scalded her cheeks, paling to an adorable soft pink by her ears. "I, uh, hadn't thought about it. But, yeah. You're right. We should, um, do something about that."

"Why, Rebecca," he teased. "I never would have thought someone with your voracious s.e.xual appet.i.te would be a prude."

"I'm not! I'm just-" Realizing he was teasing her, she frowned and tugged him toward the elevators.

"We can stop at any late night drug store for that. We need to get our luggage, then go out and buy the rings before the jewelry stores close."

He sighed melodramatically, but followed readily. "Dear heart, sometimes you can be too practical for your own good."

THEY ARRIVED at their room before the bellman. Opening the door, Desmond's gaze was immediately drawn to the huge king size bed dominating the room. Bright neon colors played across the spread, s.h.i.+ning through the window from the displays on the Strip. Rebecca strolled over to the window and stared out.

"Oh, look. It's like a giant riverboat paddling down the street. Come see."

He joined her at the window, but his attention was on the draperies. The sheer gauze privacy curtain wouldn't s.h.i.+eld any sunlight to speak of. The thicker, primary curtain might block most of it. But it was alarmingly thin compared to the rea.s.suring blackness of his tinted windows back home.

"Will the neon light come in, even with the drapes drawn, do you suppose?" he asked her. Without waiting for a reply, he pulled the privacy curtain closed on his side of the window, then fumbled for the cords to draw the drapes.

She pulled her side of the sheer curtain closed, and stepped out of the way of the drapes. "Not much on scenery, are you?"

"I'm sorry." He opened the drapes again, and parted the curtains. "What was it you wanted to show me?"

"There. The big boat."

A knock on the door saved him from having to answer.

"That must be the bellman. I'll get it."

The man unloaded their bags, and Desmond hastened him out with a generous tip. They could settle in later. They needed to get to the jewelry store before it closed. Desmond and Rebecca took the elevator back down to the lobby. Turning in the other direction, they walked through a different casino to reach the Forum Shops. They stepped through the archway separating the two areas, and it was like stepping into another world.

The marble paving stones beneath their feet lasted only as long as the gold-plated, marble-fronted slot machines. Then the ceiling lifted, painted midnight black and s.h.i.+ning with tiny Christmas-light stars. The storefronts became two or even three stories tall, with elaborate frescoes and statues on their roofs, and the floor changed to a cobblestone street with raised stone sidewalks. They came out on the village square, in the center of which sat an elaborate fountain depicting plunging horses, cavorting sea creatures, and a selection of Roman G.o.ds.

Desmond stepped closer, amazed at the detail and lifelike nature of the statues. They must have paid a fortune to get such skilled sculptors. Not to mention the sheer cost of all this marble. He ran his hand over the hoof of one of the horses.

"It's Plexiglas."

"Of course it is," Rebecca answered over her shoulder, heading around the fountain for the jewelry store. "What did you expect? This is Las Vegas. Everything's an illusion."

"I should have expected it. But I've never been inside Caesar's before. With all the marble on the floor and walls, it was an honest mistake."

She chuckled. "Uh-huh. And I've got a bridge I can sell you...."

He caught up with her, and they entered the jewelry store together. The only customers in the store, they had the salesman's full attention.

"We'd like to buy a set of wedding rings, please," Rebecca told him.

"Gold, nothing too fancy, but more than just a plain band," Desmond clarified.

"Of course. If you'd please take a seat, I'll bring out our selection. I'm sure you'll find just what you're looking for."

After a minimum of debate, they selected rings with an ivy vine etched on them. The salesman wrapped the rings, congratulated Desmond and Rebecca on their upcoming wedding, and put a significant dent in the corporate card's credit line.

"You don't have cheap tastes, do you?" Desmond asked as they headed for the door.

"Of course not. I chose you, didn't I?"

He couldn't help but laugh. How could he argue with that line of reasoning? "Why do I even bother trying?"

"Beats me." She grinned. "You know you're never going to win."

They stepped out into the plaza. It seemed lighter than before, brighter. Desmond cast a reflexive glance upward, then stared, unable to believe what he saw. The stars had faded, and the midnight black sky had been replaced by pre-dawn gray.

Oh, G.o.d. They'd been in the jewelry store far longer than he'd thought. It was almost dawn. He had to get back inside.

He lengthened his strides, pulling Rebecca along with him.

"Hey! Where's the fire?"

Her words acted like a tonic, snapping him out of his knee-jerk panic. He was already inside. The sky above him was an illusion. But what an illusion!