Chapter 7: The East Side
The landscape of Las Vegas changed dramatically as the luxury SUV exited the highway and wound its way into the older, industrial eastern district of the city. The towering glass-and-steel monoliths of the Strip gave way to weathered stucco apartment complexes, faded brick warehouses, and dusty side streets lined with struggling local businesses. It was a working-class neighborhood where people traded sweat and grit for a modest living, far removed from the glittering illusion of the tourist traps.
Michael navigated the quiet residential streets with steady confidence, slowing down as they approached the block indicated by the GPS. Elmwood Avenue was a narrow corridor of modest duplexes and tired apartment buildings with peeling paint and overgrown desert landscaping.
“Number twenty-eight twelve,” Michael murmured, easing the SUV to a gentle stop beside a faded beige apartment complex with a wrought-iron security gate. “Looks like we’ve arrived.”
Daniel stared out the passenger window, his heart hammering against his ribs in a way it hadn't since his days under enemy fire. The sudden anxiety of the moment rushed over him like a cold wave. He gripped the strap of his duffel bag so hard his knuckles turned white.
“She lives in unit four B,” Daniel said, his voice tightening into a gravelly whisper. He looked down at his scruffy green jacket and worn jeans, suddenly acutely aware of his homeless appearance. “Michael, maybe this was a mistake. Look at me. I look like a derelict. What kind of first impression am I going to make on a young woman who’s probably trying to build a respectable life?”
Michael put the vehicle in park, turned off the ignition, and sat back in his seat. He turned his head and looked directly into Daniel’s anxious eyes with absolute, unyielding calm.
“Daniel, listen to me,” Michael said firmly, his voice cutting through the older man’s panic. “Sarah Vance doesn’t care about your jacket. She doesn’t care about the pavement or the duffel bag. She cares about her father. She cares about a piece of history that was stolen from her the day Lieutenant Vance deployed for the last time. You are the only link she has left to the truth of who her father was when he wasn't wearing his uniform at home.”
Daniel swallowed hard, his throat dry as bone. He closed his eyes for a brief second, taking a deep, shuddering breath, summoning the fading ghost of his military discipline. “Semper Fi,” he whispered under his breath.
May you like
“Semper Fi,” Michael echoed softly.
They both unbuckled their seatbelts and opened their doors in unison. The dry desert heat rushed into the cabin as Michael stepped out onto the cracked concrete sidewalk, walking around to the passenger side to stand beside Daniel as the older man hoisted his canvas bag over his shoulder. Together, they walked through the rusted iron gate and made their way toward unit four B.
