“I met Dylan first,” I stated. “Then you showed up.”
“Where’s your bag?” Dylan asked.
I rechecked the board. “Carousel nine.”
Carousel nine was a mess of people hovering too close to the belt, as if standing on top of it would make their luggage appear faster. I watched for my bag, trying not to focus on the fact that every phone in the building had a camera.
Faye stayed a step back, her suitcase in front of her. Dylan stood on her other side, posture rigid, eyes forward, expression tight.
A bag thumped onto the belt, then another, then another. I spotted mine and stepped forward. Grabbing the handle, I pulled it off, then stepped back immediately so I wasn’t blocking anyone. We turned and headed for the pickup area.
A guy near the doors lifted his phone higher than normal.
Faye didn’t change pace. “Keep walking.”
“I’m walking,” I said.
Dylan glanced at me without turning his head. “Don’t talk.”
I scoffed. “You’re acting like I’m going to break into a musical number.”
Faye finally looked at me. “You would.”
“That’s slander,” I complained.
Dylan chuckled. “But accurate.”
Outside, the Vegas heat slapped me in the face like it was the devil himself living in Sin City.
“We’re going to the pickup line,” I murmured, mainly to keep us moving in the same direction. “Marcos told me a car would be waiting.”
Faye’s brows lifted. “He set up a car too?”
“He set up everything,” Dylan replied.
A black SUV rolled up to the curb right as we reached the lane. The driver stepped out, scanning faces, then stopped on us.
“Matthewson? Statler?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I nodded.
The driver opened the back door. “Andre. I’ve got you.”
He reached for the handle of Faye’s suitcase while we climbed into the back. She got in first, Dylan slid in beside her, and I took the other side.
Once Andre got into the driver’s seat, he merged into traffic.
“So what do we want to do before we head to the fight?” I asked.
“Get a cocktail,” Faye said.
“Food too,” Dylan stated. “I’ve only had airplane snacks today.”
“May I suggest Javier’s?” Andre spoke. “It’s in the hotel and has a delicious jalapeño margarita.”
“I could totally go for a margarita,” Faye said.
“I’m down,” Dylan agreed.
