Lucky Save (The Las Vegas Kingsnakes Series Book 2) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  Lucky Save

  A Las Vegas Kingsnakes Novel

  Jennifer Lazaris

  Copyright © 2015 by Jennifer Lazaris

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover by Syneca at Original Syn

  Created with Vellum

  This book is dedicated to my awesome, wonderful, dear friend, Becky Alcorn.

  Sometimes people come along in your life who just get you. Who you feel that you’ve been friends with in another life, because there is an instant connection. For me, that person is Becky, the redhead with the friendliest, most welcoming smile, and the most infectious laugh I have ever heard.

  If it weren’t for our mutual fascination, respect, and love of goaltenders, we never would have met. I am so very grateful to have you in my life, though many days I wish you weren’t a country away.

  Two words: TOE PICK!

  Love you.

  And for my hometown of Pittsburgh, in WESTern PENNsylvania. Did you catch that? ;-) I love yinz guys.

  LET’S GO PENS!

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Super Beetle, Volkswagen Group / or Volkswagen Aktiengesellschaft

  iPad, Apple Inc.

  HUMVEE, AM General LLC

  JumboTron, Sony Corporation

  Google Search, Google Inc.

  Cadillac Escalade, General Motors Corporation

  Jimmy Choo, J. Choo Limited

  Rolex, Rolex SA / and its subsidiary Montres Tudor SA design

  Gatorade, The Gatorade Company, Inc.

  Hugo Boss, Hugo Boss AG

  John Varvatos, John Varvatos

  Chapter 1

  "Come on. Please, please, start."

  She turned the key again, but the engine only stuttered and whined.

  "Son of a bitch."

  Penn slammed her fist down on the steering wheel of her yellow Beetle. Swallowing the bitter bile rising in her throat, she peered out of the windshield at the empty blacktop that stretched on for miles.

  Stranded. In the middle of the Nevada desert on Highway 50. She hadn't seen another car yet, and she’d been here for at least a half an hour.

  Grabbing her ancient cell phone from the passenger seat, she checked again for a signal.

  NO SERVICE.

  "Shit." Not that she was really surprised by that out here in the middle of nowhere. Disgusted, she shoved the phone back in the pocket of her denim skirt.

  This was bad. She was still hundreds of miles from Las Vegas.

  This trip was supposed to be an escape from the shit storm she'd been through lately. All she wanted was to have a nice relaxing drive from Lakensville, Washington to Las Vegas. Then she could kick back, relax, and spend quality time with her best friend. She’d been planning this vacation with Holly for two months.

  She needed this vacation.

  Instead, here she was—stuck. It was a good representation of her life lately. Trying to move forward, but spinning her wheels and getting absolutely nowhere.

  The early afternoon sun was merciless as it beat down on her little car. Even with both doors open and the windows rolled down, it wasn’t making much of a difference. All she could do was drape a t-shirt over the seat to prevent her legs from burning.

  Though it was stifling inside the vehicle, being outside wasn’t really an option, either. She’d burn quickly with her fair skin.

  Peeking into her cooler, she did a quick inventory. Two bottles of water, one sandwich, two chocolate bars, and a bag of chips. Of course, the one time she’d forgone getting snacks and drinks at a station, this happens.

  God. This was so bad.

  She’d been so careful to plan and prepare for this trip. Gas stations could be few and far between out here, so she’d put an extra canister of gas in her trunk just in case. She’d even had her car checked out before leaving Lakensville, and it had been purring right along without a hitch.

  Until, of course, it hitched.

  Blinking back tears, she took a deep breath. She needed to stay calm and rational—hell, she was usually the embodiment of calm and rational. But it didn’t take a genius to see this situation could get very dangerous if the road stayed desolate.

  She glanced into her rearview mirror, praying to see another car. For any sign of life. But just like all the times she’d checked before, the road stayed empty.

  If someone didn't pass by soon, she was screwed.

  * * *

  West turned right into the tiny Nevada service station and pulled the truck alongside a fuel pump. It was a long way to the next station on Highway 50, and he didn't want to chance running out of gas.

  At the pump opposite his, a beat-up blue van sat idle. Whispers from that direction caught his attention.

  A middle-aged couple stared at him from the front seat. The blonde female nudged the driver, a man who looked around forty years old.

  "I'm sorry for bothering you, but are you West Keller?" the female called, hanging out of the open window.

  "Yeah, that's me." How in the hell had he gotten recognized out here in the middle of fucking nowhere? If this place wasn't close to the ends of the earth, nothing was.

  "I knew it!" The woman climbed from the van. She sauntered over to his truck. "I told my boyfriend it was you. You can't miss all those tattoos."

  "Billy, come down here!" she hollered. West winced. If that voice didn’t shatter every windshield within twenty feet, he’d be surprised.

  She stared up at him, her hands on her hips. "Boy, you’re tall. And built. Wow. What is the goaltender for the Las Vegas Kingsnakes doing all the way out here, anyway?"

  "I’m driving back to the city," he told her.

  Billy stepped down from the van. "Stop bothering the guy, Kara. Jesus Christ. He's going to get soaked from you drooling all over him."

  West chuckled. "It's fine. No bother."

  Billy hooked a thumb toward Kara. "We're big Kingsnakes' fans. This one didn't like hockey much at first, but she got into it after we went to a few home games."

  "Can I get a picture with you?" Kara asked. "My friend Lydia is going to totally freak. She’s so in love with you. She has your jersey and everything."

  "Just a
minute." He put the nozzle back in the holder and screwed on the gas cap.

  Billy snorted. "Yeah, sure, Lydia is in love with him. Don't act like you don't have his jersey, too."

  She elbowed him in the ribs. "Oh my God. Shut up."

  West brushed his hands off on his jeans. "As long as someone has my jersey, it's all good."

  "You guys came so close last season," Billy told him. "That was a brutal loss. You'll come back stronger in the fall, though. I know it."

  "Yeah, well, that's the plan."

  The Kingsnakes had lost with five minutes remaining in the third period to Los Angeles during game seven of the Western Conference finals. It had been an incredibly difficult loss to stomach. He’d really thought they’d make it to the Cup finals, and he’d get a chance to lift that big silver trophy over his head.

  Instead, they’d headed back to the locker room in stunned silence, their dreams going up in smoke and their season over.

  Christ, it still hurt.

  West peered down at Kara. "Ready for that photo?"

  "Heck, yes!" Kara cuddled into his side and placed her hand just above his ass. Her hand sank lower with each photo Billy snapped. Another second and she'd be squeezing the goods, boyfriend or not.

  West gently extracted himself from her python-like grip. "I have to get back on the road. Make sure to come see some games next season, okay?"

  Billy nodded. "Thanks, Keller." Kara gave him a flirty wave and winked.

  He climbed into the cab, gave them a nod, and pulled back onto the empty highway.

  It surprised the hell out of him to get noticed all the way out here, so far from the city limits. Still, that meant the Kingsnakes were expanding their fan base throughout the state, and that was good.

  This summer, he’d really needed a break from Nevada. He loved the energy of Vegas, but he got recognized there every day. He'd retreated to a former teammate’s beach house in California, and ended up staying for the better part of a month.

  From there, he’d headed up to British Columbia for a week to fish and enjoy some solitude. It had been just what he’d needed to clear his head.

  Some days, like today, he just wanted to be anonymous. Not West Keller, professional athlete-just West Keller, guy on a road trip.

  He punched down the accelerator and let his thoughts drift as he rolled down the highway. Out here on the open road behind his sunglasses, that's exactly who he was.

  * * *

  Unable to deny her growing thirst any longer, Penn uncapped one of the water bottles and took a long swallow. She glanced into her rearview mirror for what seemed like the millionth time in the past thirty minutes, and caught sight of a massive black truck barreling down the highway.

  "Thank you, thank you, thank you," she gasped, scrambling from the car. Charging to the side of the road, she hopped up and down, waving her arms. "Stop, please!"

  The truck slowed and rolled to a stop twenty feet away, its Nevada license plate glinting in the sun. The driver backed the truck up in front of her car and killed the engine.

  Penn let out a huge, relieved sigh, grateful to finally see another human being. The feeling was immediately followed by a sharp pang of fear.

  She had no choice but to accept help from a complete stranger. Taking a deep breath, she attempted to put the brakes on all of the scary scenarios dancing through her overactive imagination.

  The driver, a man, stepped from the jacked-up truck and walked toward her. A gray t-shirt clung to his upper body like a second skin, emphasizing his lean, muscled stature. Snug blue jeans hugged him in all the right places. He pushed black sunglasses farther up the bridge of his nose.

  "Well. Aren't you in a hell of a spot." His deep, rumbling voice sounded amused.

  Her breath caught as she stared up at him, speechless. He towered over her, standing at least 6'5". Larger than life didn't seem an adequate way to describe this guy.

  Colorful tattoos completely covered both of his arms, disappearing beneath the sleeves of his shirt. He tossed his too-long, light brown hair out of his eyes with a jerk of his head.

  He looked dangerous.

  Utterly, completely gorgeous, but dangerous.

  Penn took a step back, putting space between them. It didn't escape his notice, and one side of his mouth curled into a half-smile.

  "What's the problem, sweetheart?" He removed his sunglasses and gave her a slow, lingering once-over. His deep gray eyes reminded her of the color of the sky just before a violent thunderstorm.

  Heat crept into her cheeks as his gaze strayed to her legs. Why hadn’t she worn something less revealing for the drive into Vegas? She tugged on the short denim skirt.

  "I’m not sure." She nodded toward the car. "It started sputtering, then it just shut off. You're the first person to stop. Actually, you're the first person I've even seen. I would have called the auto club, but my cell phone isn't getting a signal out here. I guess that’s common in the middle of nowhere."

  She was babbling away like a giddy teenager. If he would just stop staring at her, maybe she could organize her thoughts.

  He kicked the tire with his white sneaker. "What year is this car?"

  "Seventy-one. It’s a Super Beetle."

  "A classic. Sharp looking car." He rubbed a hand over what appeared to be at least a month’s worth of beard. "Engine’s in the back, as I recall. You want to pop the hood for me?"

  "Do you know anything about cars?"

  He flashed a grin. "I might know a thing or two."

  I just bet you do.

  She popped the hood, and he lifted it with the corner of his t-shirt. "Well-maintained," he said, looking down at the engine. "Start it up so I can hear what's going on."

  Penn turned the key, leaning out of the car to watch as he stared down at the motor. He listened to the noise, watching the engine sputter and whine for a few moments before it quit. He leaned in and poked around, having her start it up a few more times before giving up.

  "Sorry, kid. It's nothing obvious, which means it's probably an expensive fix. Anything on a vehicle this old is going to be an expensive fix."

  "Comforting." She placed one hand on the back of her neck and sighed. Thank God she had a shiny new credit card to pay for the repairs. Hopefully, she’d soon have a shiny new job to go along with it.

  He slammed the hood and placed his foot on the bumper. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

  "Penn Foster. Damsel in distress and all that."

  He frowned. "Penn? What kind of name is that?"

  "It's short for Penelope, which I’m not that fond of. And you are?"

  "West Keller." He stared down at her, like he was waiting for some kind of reaction. What kind of reaction, she didn’t know.

  She crossed her arms. "Hmm. And you're questioning my name...West?"

  He grinned. "Fair enough. West is my mom's maiden name."

  "Well, anyway, I appreciate you stopping to help, Mr. Keller."

  "Just call me West."

  Her stomach flipped and fluttered under his intense gaze. She wasn’t sure anyone had ever looked at her quite so intently before. Plus, he was so attractive, it almost bordered on ridiculous. He was, as her friend Holly would say, smokin’ hot.

  He slid his sunglasses back on. "Here's the deal, Penn Foster, damsel in distress. You're still pretty far away from the nearest town, which is where I'm staying tonight. You can grab a ride with me and get a hotel room for yourself. My buddy, Adam, owns a garage in Vegas, as well as a small one somewhere around here. I'll see if I can get him to transport your car to Las Vegas. It won't be cheap, but I'll try and get you the best price I can. Deal?"

  He obviously liked taking charge. While she appreciated the help, she hated feeling like she had zero say in the matter.

  "Does your cell phone have a signal?" she asked. "If it does, I can just call the auto club and get them to come pick me up."

  He pulled a smartphone from his pocket and held it out to her. Just as she suspected-no
signal.

  Penn rubbed her temples. This day couldn’t possibly get any worse. She handed him the phone. "Can't your friend tow my car to the closest town and they can fix it there?"

  "It's a classic car, doll. You'll likely need to get parts in the city."

  "Well, I’m on my way to Vegas for a vacation anyway, but I'll have to find a way to get there tomorrow."

  "I'm heading into Vegas tomorrow morning," he told her. "I can give you a ride. Problem solved."

  "No, problem not solved, Mr. Keller." She put her hands on her hips and stared up at him. "I don’t know you. You could be a highway serial killer for all I know, chopping women up and leaving their body parts scattered throughout the desert."

  He laughed, the sound rich and deep. "I promise you I'm not, but you're just going to have to trust me, aren't you? Because you're out of options at the moment, darlin’."

  She tugged on her skirt again. It didn't help he kept openly ogling her legs while he went on about trust. He was probably used to women happily doing anything he wanted.

  West gestured at the empty highway. “Or, I guess you could take your chances with the next person who passes by, whenever that is. Maybe it will be a trucker looking for some company. Or a car full of guys on their way to Vegas for a little fun."

  He cocked his head. "Then again, there's the off-chance no one will come by for hours. And when they do, they might not stop. Not many Good Samaritans these days, you know?"

  "Ugh, I get it, okay?" She peered down the long, empty stretch of road again, a fresh wave of nerves making her stomach flutter.

  No matter what way she looked at it, he was right. She was out of options.

  Pulling her phone from the pocket of her skirt, she snapped a photo of his license plate, then turned and snapped another one of his face.

  "While I appreciate your help, Mr. Keller, you need to know that if you try anything funny, I will kick you in the nuts and scream my face off. Then I will send these photos to the Nevada police. Understand?"

  He peered down at her. "How will you do that? I thought you’re your phone didn’t have a signal."