Werewolf in Las Vegas by Vicki Lewis Thompson

the end of the world, Luke.”
    He just looked at her.
    She didn’t need much imagination to read his mind. If Cynthia ended up on the other side of the country, in a big city where he had no “people” to keep an eye on her, he’d worry himself to death. He had to get over that kind of thinking, but he’d been in charge of the family for only a few months. He had a lot to learn.
    In sympathy with his angst, Giselle tossed him a lifeline. “I might be more worried about her jetting off to New York if she hadn’t texted you a riddle. I doubt she’s going anywhere at the moment.”
    He sighed. “Ah, yes. The riddle. I guess we might as well go find out if you solved it or not.”
    â€œMight as well.” After they figured out which way the rooms were numbered, they turned to the right and started off down the hall. They didn’t speak, as if in silent agreement not to give themselves away as they approached the door.
    Giselle didn’t know Cynthia at all, but she had a fair idea of what motivated her. She wanted to guide her own destiny instead of being controlled by the expectations of others. That was exactly what Bryce wanted, too.
    Giselle hoped they both had the good sense not to text what room they were in and then proceed to get it on while they waited for Luke to solve the riddle. An embarrassing scene wasn’t going to help. Giselle knew that for sure, even though she didn’t know yet what would help, or whose side Bryce was on.
    Giselle slowed down as they approached the room. Luke pointed to the security latch propping the door slightly ajar. If Cynthia and Bryce had rented the room, they’d deliberately left it open.
    When Luke held up his hand like an infantry patrol leader signaling a halt, Giselle had the urge to giggle. She never giggled. She wasn’t the giggling type. But this was turning into a melodramatic cloak-and-dagger affair that she suddenly found hysterical.
    She supposed all the drama was appropriate. They were in Vegas. In an arena somewhere below, knights jousted on horseback. Down the road at Treasure Island, two ships fired broadsides at each other, and across the street a gondola was gliding down a canal that looked astoundingly like one in Venice.
    Luke put his ear to the crack in the door, and Giselle stood quietly listening. She heard nothing.
    If her nose hadn’t recently been assaulted by all the human-induced fumes in the elevator, she might have been able to tell whether a Were was on the other side of the door. But between her nose overload and whatever glue was off-gassing from the new carpet, she was fairly useless for nose patrol.
    Stepping back from the door, Luke let out a breath. “I don’t think we have to worry about being quiet. Nobody’s in there.”
    â€œThere’s one way to be sure.”
    He glanced at her. “Maybe I should go in first, just in case.”
    â€œJust in case what? That they’re lying there naked and asleep? Or worse yet, naked and quietly smiling at us?”
    Luke’s expression became thunderous with disapproval. “I don’t care if they’re smiling, but they damned well better not be naked.”
    â€œIf Cynthia knew for certain that she’d get that reaction from you, she’d definitely be naked. You need to lighten up, Dalton.”
    He rolled his eyes before stepping toward the door and knocking. “Cynthia? You in there?”
    Silence.
    â€œOkay, I’m going in.”
    â€œI’ll cover you.”
    He turned back to her with a grin.
    â€œJust kidding.” She returned his smile. “I’ve always wanted to say that, but I’m not armed.”
    â€œDidn’t think so.” Turning back to the door, he pushed it open, stepped inside, and was immediately soaked with water. “What the hell?”
    Giselle clapped her hand over her mouth. It wouldn’t do to laugh, especially when that stunt had