Cam: I need to see you.
Scott was online. He’d seen the message, but he didn’t reply.
One minute passed, thenanother.
The tight, ugly knot in his stomach grew with every second.
Finally the screen lit up.
Scott: I don’t think that’s a good idea. You should focus on the championship.
Cam’s jaw clenched.
Cam: Tell me where you’re staying and I’ll come.
This time the answer arrived quickly.
Scott: Don’t.
A pause.
Then another message.
Scott: I’m sharing a room with Nico.
Until now Cam had always assumed the expressionseeing redwas metaphorical.Apparently it wasn’t.His vision blurred slightly at the edges, tinting red.
Sharing a room.
With Nico.
Logically, there were dozens of explanations.Vegas hotels were expensive.Friends shared rooms all the time.The arrangement was probably intentional, part of the cover story. None of those thoughts helped.
Cam typed before common sense could intervene.
Cam: Come to my room instead.
Cam: Resorts World. Room 411.
The typing indicator appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Cam found himself staring at the dots with embarrassing intensity.
Come on.
Finally, the reply arrived.
Scott: We shouldn’t be seen together.
Another message followed immediately.
Scott: It’s not good for your career.
Cam glared at the screen.
