Leaving Las Vegas (Entangled Ignite) by Aleah Barley

might melt in his arms—she definitely didn’t like him. As far as she was concerned, he was just another bloodsucking developer who didn’t understand what it was like to be part of a community. And she’d be right.
    He had no clue.

Chapter Eight
    Glory worried. Luke hadn’t said more than two or three words as they drove from the Grand Canyon along several remote highways until they finally reconnected to I-40, headed east. Now he wanted to buy a burner phone.
    Had she insulted him? Pushed too far when she told him about her hatred for developers? Was it something else she’d said? Or was it the kiss at the Grand Canyon? He’d been quiet for so long, maybe he regretted kissing her.
    Glory hadn’t asked. Instead, she’d responded with her own patented brand of silence. But that wasn’t getting her anywhere. She tapped her fingers idly against the car’s interior molding. Why was Luke so eager to buy a phone? So damn eager to talk to anyone but her—
    Her hand stilled. “Why do you need to buy a burner phone?”
    No answer.
    “I have a phone. What’s wrong with my phone?”
    “GPS.”
    Did that count as one word, or three? And what did he mean by that, anyway? “I don’t think my phone has GPS. It doesn’t have maps. Or directions. If I want to find the nearest pie shop, I have to call 411.”
    Luke’s eyes narrowed.
    “Anyway, I was careful at the poker game. I didn’t tell anyone my last name or where I’m from, so they have no clue what my phone number is. If you need to make calls, you can use my cell.”
    Luke’s jaw clenched. Then he nodded.
    Oh, wow. His Lordship had granted permission.
    Glory dug around in her purse and pulled out the phone. Dead. And the charger for Luke’s phone was a white cord with a company-specific connection. Glory’s nostrils flared when she saw it. “That’s not going to work. Piece of high-tech silliness.”
    “Who still uses a flip phone?”
    “There’s not much of a signal in Beaux. No data plans means no reason to upgrade. It might not have GPS or Internet access, but there’s a speakerphone, voice mail, and a nifty calendar function.”
    “Backward little town,” he mumbled under his breath.
    A condemnation that would have pissed her off a few hours earlier, but at least now he was talking. Had he really given her the silent treatment because of the kiss at the Grand Canyon? Sure, she’d broken her own rule by kissing him, but… damn .
    Her mouth went dry. Her heart fluttered in her chest.
    The man had her more hot and bothered than the weather.
    It didn’t help that she was so aware of every move he made. Goose bumps standing up on her arm every time he reached over to grab some trail mix they’d picked up at the Grand Canyon visitor’s center. Tingles shooting up her arm when he passed her a drink to hold.
    The damn car had everything. Except cup holders.
    Glory forced herself to take a breath. The car wasn’t the problem. Luke was the problem. “Do you really think you can solve this with a few phone calls? Figure out where Tiffanette is—and who’s helping her?”
    “I’ve learned a lot over the years. Some of it in college—earning a pair of fancy degrees—and most of it earned the hard way building a casino empire in Las Vegas,” he said. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s that someone always knows something…and information can always be bought for the right price. All it takes is the right call, made to the right person.”
    She humphed. The wealthy lived in a different world. Freaking aliens. “Are you sure you don’t want to go back to Las Vegas? Do your investigating there?”
    “No.”
    Glory waited. Nothing happened. “Why not? Don’t you have things to do? Meetings to attend?” Flunkies to intimidate. Neighborhoods to terrorize.
    “The mark of a good businessman is that he can—from time to time—delegate responsibilities.”
    Wow. Over a dozen words all strung together, recited in a dry tone.
    Glory couldn’t