Los Angeles Legendary Sleuth

However, this band was clearly not among those ten people.

Luke didn't recognize them, but that didn't mean the other tourists didn't.

Soon, the band took the stage amid cheers that rose and fell, and the atmosphere of the concert reached its peak.

The crowd in the square was shouting the name "Cro".

Luke didn't know whether it was a person's name or the band's name.

In any case, the vibe in the square had reached a climax. It was exhilarating.

The music paused for a moment.

Then, the band called "Cro" began their performance.

The music started again, the rhythm explosive, accompanied by a deep, magnetic, and penetrating male voice.

As soon as he started singing, the cheering became even louder, with some young women already screaming at the top of their voices.

One of the girls, standing in an elevated spot, took off her pants, revealing her buttocks, and gyrated.

Luke also shook his head and swung his body, getting lost in the music.

At that moment, a short, voluptuous Latin woman approached him.

"Hey, handsome, I like your black hair," she said.

Luke smiled, took a quick glance at her and said, "Your figure is great too."

The Latin woman leaned in closer, "I've been watching you for a while, are you traveling in Las Vegas alone?"

"Yes, are you alone too?" he asked.

The Latin woman chuckled, "You can call me GG.

I'm a tour guide.

I'm familiar with the streets and alleys of Las Vegas. I know where the good shows, exciting performances, and thrilling events are. I can show you the most unique aspects of Las Vegas."

The Latin woman licked her lips, giving him a suggestive look, "If you feel lonely traveling alone, consider it."

Luke thought to himself, A tour guide? Or a high-class escort?

"Are you a volunteer guide?" he asked.

"No, free ones are the most expensive. So, I have a clear rate—2000 US dollars a day."

To Luke, 2000 US dollars wasn't a lot, but what could a guide do, or rather, what couldn't they do?

Luke was not bad-looking, had money, considered himself charming, and didn't lack female company. Was there a need to pay?

So low.

Besides, being unfamiliar with the place, who knew if it was a setup?

"Thanks, but I prefer traveling alone."

The Latin woman pulled out a business card, kissed it with her lips, "If you change your mind, call me."

Luke initially wanted to take the card politely, to give her face.

But seeing the dark red lipstick mark on the card, he decided against it.

"No need."

The Latin woman awkwardly drew back, "Are you gay? I can introduce you to male companions."

"You've got the wrong person," Luke dismissed curtly, ignoring her further because he faintly heard a noise.

It sounded like gunshots.

The Latin woman glanced at Luke, her eyes dropping to his groin, smirking, "Poor guy, no wonder he's alone."

The music was loud, and Luke didn't hear what the Latin woman had said.

But his police instincts gave him a dangerous feeling.

There seemed to be a disturbance in the distance, but it was drowned out by the revelry.

The disturbance grew closer.

Luke looked up and around, noticing flames at the top of a hotel.

Fuck!

"There's a shooter!" Luke shouted, crouching down.

As he spoke, a barrage of bullets came his way.

"Dada dada..."

"Ah!"

"Puh..." Various sounds intermixed.

The gunshots became clearer, and Luke felt bullets whizzing past him.

He heard the sound of bullets hitting objects.

And people's screams.

With a "puh," Luke felt liquid splashing beside him; turning his head, he saw that the Latin woman had been shot in the head.

Her once delicate face had been destroyed.

Though they were strangers, having spoken just made the feeling all the worse.

But Luke was powerless; bullets were raining from the hotel high above, blasting furiously, over a hundred in half a minute.

Luke was terrified.

As for shooting back with a pistol, it was futile; he couldn't see the shooters, couldn't aim.

The music in the square stopped, gunshots echoed through the night sky, and the reveling crowd finally became alert.

There were more than twenty thousand people in the square. The music, revelry, and screams had masked the gunshots, and some thought they were hearing fireworks.

So at first, there was only localized chaos, the shooter had fired for half a minute before the entire square descended into complete disorder.

The once bustling square was now filled with gunshots, screams, and cries, permeated by an atmosphere of panic.

Now, with the square full of people, running was hardly an option; only those on the periphery could quickly flee and narrowly escape.

Fortunately, Americans, unlike people from other countries, had abundant experience in dealing with shooting incidents, and most dropped to the ground, curled up.

At this time, running might make one more of a target for the shooter and could also lead to a stampede.

In many shooting incidents, stampedes had caused far more casualties than the shootings themselves.

Generally speaking, this response was not problematic and was correct.

An ordinary shooter might kill one or two people, at most three to five, so the gunfire should have stopped quickly.

But this time was different; a minute had passed, and the gunfire was still relentless, as if the bullets were endless.

Luke continuously observed the shooter's movement. During the shooting, there were two brief pauses, leading him to think the shooter had stopped, but then the gunfire resumed.