Shadows Of The Neon

By Roberta James

Desperate for a life beyond the neon facade of Vegas, cocktail waitress Clara takes a reckless gamble on Alex, a man haunted by a shadowy past.

Their promised escape quickly turns into a treacherous race across the sun-scorched desert, pursued by relentless enemies desperate to drag them back into the shadows.

As trust shatters and the desolate landscape offers no mercy, Clara and Alex must navigate a world where betrayal lurks behind every promise and survival demands brutal sacrifices.

Can they outrun the past that hunts them, or will the unforgiving desert and their own desperation become their ultimate downfall?

• Language: English
• Publisher: susan slaughter
• Release date: May 3, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224327041

Book preview

Chapter 1: The Oasis Illusion

Clara hated Thursdays . The Oasis Casino was a choking cloud of stale smoke trapped beneath a too-low ceiling, a garish fever dream come to life. The relentless chime of slot machines, the buzz and trill of electronic roulette, felt like a swarm of angry bees trapped in her skull. Each gaudy, flashing light was a fresh jab of irritation, prickling her already frayed nerves. Tonight, the desperation hung thicker than ever – truckers blowing through paychecks meant for bills, housewives snatching stolen hours tinged with guilt, gamblers with eyes burning, whispering desperate prayers to the fickle gods of chance.

Tonight, she wasn't even behind the sanctuary of the bar, mixing drinks with swift efficiency. Tonight, she was the cocktail waitress, six hours of threading through this neon purgatory on aching feet. Six hours of practiced smiles, forced laughter, the occasional swift side-step to avoid an over-familiar hand. The tips might be better out front, but her patience, normally stretched thin, was tonight frayed and unraveling further with each step she took. One carelessly spilled drink, one misplaced smile, and she might just snap.

Hey, sweetheart, can I get another whiskey? Neat.

The voice cut through the din. She turned, finding the speaker at one of the blackjack tables, his back initially facing away from her. But something about him, a stillness amidst the frenzy, drew her attention. Clean-cut, mid-thirties, radiating a quiet confidence that hinted at either genuine ease or a well-practiced con. The substantial stack of chips in front of him swayed her opinion firmly towards the latter – a player like this was either very lucky or very, very skilled.

Sure thing, she replied, the automatic pleasantry catching in her throat. Name's Clara.

He looked up then, meeting her gaze, and Clara felt her breath freeze for a moment she couldn't justify. His eyes were an impossible blue, like a chip of summer sky embedded in a stark winter landscape.

Alex, he said. Just passing through, killing a few hours.

Well, hope Lady Luck's smiling on you tonight then, Alex. She poured his drink with practiced efficiency, acutely aware of his eyes following her every move. It was unnerving, yet it