had hours to devote to such a project.
âItâs nothing bad,â the woman said. âIâm not going to serve you with a subpoena or anything. But you fit the description I was given, and I was told youâd be here with a redhead, watching the Bellagio fountain do its thing.â She pulled a manila envelope out of her large tote.
Luke recognized his sisterâs handwriting on the outside of the envelope. âWhen did you get that?â
âIâm not supposed to say. Iâm just supposed to give it to you and leave.â She smiled. âI wouldnât refuse a tip, though.â
Luke dug out his wallet and located a hundred-dollar bill tucked behind the twenties. âIf youâll tell me when and how you got the envelope, and what the woman was wearing at the time, you can have this.â
Her eyes widened. âUh . . . no. As much as I could use that, I promised her I wouldnât tell you. You should let her dance, though. Itâs not like sheâs going to strip. I can see why youâd object to that, but what she wantsâto dance with the Moonbeamsâthatâs classy.â
Luke was very aware of Giselle standing next to him listening to every word. âShe told you about that?â he asked.
âSure. We shared a moment. My family didnât want me to get the tattoos and the piercings, but itâs my life, you know?â She glanced at Giselle. âYou get what Iâm saying, right? Once youâre an adult, you get to decide.â
âI agree,â Giselle said.
âI thought you would.â The woman moved a little closer to Giselle. âYou look like a take-charge kind of lady. We canât let other people push us around. Like present company, for example.â
Luke sighed.
âI completely agree,â Giselle said, suppressing her smile. She could see Luke was suffering through this conversation.
âHere.â Luke shoved the hundred-dollar bill at the woman. âTake it with my blessings. Now give me the envelope.â
âYou bet.â She handed it over.
âThank you. Now, if youâll excuse us, we need to getââ
âWait. I have something else for you.â She reached into her tote, pulled out a pink squirt gun, and shot him in the face. âBye, now!â She hurried away.
As water ran down Lukeâs face and into the open neck of his shirt, he didnât look at Giselle. âDonât you dare laugh.â
âI wonât.â But her voice quavered as though she wanted to. âI have a tissue in my pocket, if that would help.â
âThanks. Iâd appreciate it.â
The white tissue fluttered in front of him like a flag of truce. âCan I hold the envelope for you?â
âSure.â He handed it over and accepted her tissue so he could mop his face. âI donât know where Cynthia found that squirt gun, but it packs a punch.â
âLuke, I have a confession.â
âOh?â Balling the tissue in his fist, he glanced around for a trash can. One happened to be nearby, so he lobbed the wet tissue into it. Two points. âAbout what?â
âMy brother. As a kid, he was fascinated with practical jokes. The bucket of water trick is something he spent hours getting right. And he knows his squirt guns, too. He considers the superpumper ones too obvious. So heâll take a normal-sized one and fool with it until it delivers a blast of water thatâll drown you on the first shot.â
Luke stared at her in disbelief. âAnd your brother is how old?â
âThirty. And you know what? I never connected that significant birthday with him shucking his responsibilities and coming to Vegas. But that might be part of it. Maybe this is a last fling before he has to settle down.â
âBully for him.â Luke was in no mood to hear about some guyâs birthday angst. When heâd turned thirty,
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