Page 21 of Ride Forever
Chapter 8
Sloane
As we drove, the desert gradually gave way to the city.
Buildings began to rise up out of the sand and grit, and the road gained a border of tall palm trees. A fast-food restaurant sailed by, then a motel, and finally, the Mandalay Bay hotel and casino towered on our left. It was our first glimpse of the Strip.
I hadn’t been to Las Vegas before, but it was one of those places people thought they knew all about because of what they saw in the movies. Elvis impersonators marrying drunks in gaudy wedding chapels, seedy strip clubs, glitzy casinos with rows upon rows of roulette tables, and all the concert residencies put on by fading pop stars. Nostalgia and regret was the scent I was picking up as we approached ground zero.
Chaser stopped at a traffic light, and ahead, I could see a billboard—that looked like it was twenty stories high—flashing advertisements outside of the MGM Grand.
“Your mouth is hanging open,” Chaser said, looking at me out the corner of his eye.
“I’ve never been to Vegas before,” I replied. “It’s not what I expected.”
“It has a way of surprising people.”
The lights changed, and we moved off, coasting through the heart of the city.
My nose was practically fused to the window, my eyes flicking back and forth, taking everything in. The throngs of people walking up and down the sidewalks were unbelievable. Neon lights flashed brightly even though it was daytime, and the casinos were an overwhelming mass of extravagance. One minute we’d passed a pyramid, then a New York cityscape, and then we coasted past the Eiffel Tower.
“It’s so…” I couldn’t think of a good word to describe it.
“Outrageous?”
“Yeah,” I murmured. “Outrageous.”
I glanced at Chaser, wondering how we were meant to surveil anything around here. It was so busy, built up, and there would be security to the max. We were here for one man, but I didn’t want to accidentally hurt anyone else.
“How are we going to do this?” I asked. “It’s so…” I was lost for words again as the enormity of our task was smooshed right into my face.
“With great difficulty.”
I settled back into the seat, my sight blurring away from the glitz and glamour outside.
After we passed a few more casinos—Harrah’s and the Venetian—Chaser turned the car off the Strip, and we zoomed into a self-parking garage. Artificial lights flicked past as we circled around and around looking for a space to park. When we finally found one, Chaser deftly backed into it, then cut the engine.
“Here.” He reached over to the back seat and produced an awful black trucker hat with an embroidered Las Vegas motif on the front. He put it on my head and tugged the bill down.
“Are you trying to make me look like a redneck?” I asked.
“Like a tourist, but that works, too.”
“Very funny.”
“The more we can blend, the better.” He showed me his own hat, and I smirked. “Don’t even say it.”
“I never said a thing,” I retorted.
“When we get a chance, we need to get you a burner phone,” he went on.
“Why?”
“In case we get separated. Then we’ve got a way to contact one another. It won’t be traceable.”
“No safe words or meeting points?”
Chaser leaned toward me and placed his palm on my thigh. “I don’t intend to let you out of my sight if I can help it.”
