C8 Miss Predictable: Chapter Eight
Cassandra wound down the taxi window and concentrated on the scenery of Vegas. People scuttled back and forth, carrying bags stuffed with loot. Tourists bunched together in roving packs.
She ignored the cabby while he rambled on in an obscure dialect. If she didn’t understand, she couldn’t answer a question. Right?
Wrong… Her mouth opened and gibberish poured out