Agent Lenz didn’t know what he disliked the most about Las Vegas — the insufferable heat, the unending traffic, the throngs of tourists that crowded every place he went, or the neon lights that flashed day and night, searing his corneas.
Actually, it was probably a combination of all those factors, plus a couple more he hadn’t yet thought of.
He sat in his hotel room at the Mandalay Bay, scowling at the club sandwich room service had brought up for him and wondering if he should have ordered something a little more substantial. It was now after nine o’clock at night, and he’d finally given up after visiting ten casinos and a few more of the smaller hotels in the southern part of the Strip. No one had seen Adara Grant or her companion, and the traffic cam footage that hadn’t been corrupte
