“Mr. Marco,” Sean said. “All of this got blown out of proportion-”
“Fifty grand,” one of the others said darkly. “That’s what you owe us. Then you have the nerve-”
“You killed Violet,” Sean said shakily. “You may not have killed her directly. But she’s dead because of you.”
“It was a car wreck-”
“You were chasing her!”
“Mr. Blasio,” Marco said, “does not take responsibility for that. It was an accident. But this isn’t. Fifty grand. Or the egg. That’s worth something.”
“That’s my child,” Sean hissed.
“It’s a dragon,” Marco said, shrugging. “People buy those for-”
“No,” Sean whispered. “Never.”
Lucy stayed quiet behind the car, waiting patiently. She watched Marco, the biggest of the men in black, pull a gun, and her breath caught. She couldn’t breathe. Her eyes were big as she watched the man named Sean drop to his knees there in the parking garage and plead for his life.
“Marco, please-”
“Where’s the egg?”
He stayed quiet and Marco pointed the gun right at his head and pulled the trigger and Marco jerked before slumping to the ground.
Lucy ducked back and clapped a hand to her mouth. Her head pounded, her hands shaking with panic and fear. She had never seen anyone die before, much less get murdered. Terror overwhelmed her and she fought to stay quiet, not giving herself away as the four men’s footsteps echoed. When she looked back, she saw Sean’s still body left there on the ground, blood oozing from his head. She could hardly breathe, she could hardly think, a tear sliding down her cheek.
She waited as long as she could bear to move, until she was absolutely sure the men in black were gone and then she ran back the way she’d come. She didn’t think at all, she just ran, her duffle over her shoulder. She went back inside Jack’s Joker and dashed through the casino and out the front to the strip, constantly glancing over her shoulder just in case one of the men had seen her. But she couldn’t see any of them anywhere near her as her heart pounded. She crossed the street and shoved through the crowd to the Starlight Bar and made a beeline for the bathroom.
Once inside, she locked the door behind her and took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves and stop her hands from shaking. She looked in the mirror and grimaced. Tears had made her mascara run. She took a bottle of make-up remover out of her duffel and went about removing as much as she could with still trembling hands until her face was as clean as she could manage. She splashed water on her face and patted it dry. But when she closed her eyes, she saw that man being shot again, and she jumped, gasping a little.
“Jesus,” she muttered.
I should tell someone, she thought. She should tell the police or someone. She had seen an actual murder, surely she had to report it. Yet that thought too was terrifying. It made it all too real.
She thought she needed to relax a little. She was hungry yet she didn’t think she could eat now, with the memory of that man shot through the head. A drink is what I need, she thought. She sat at a table and when the server came over, she ordered a straight whiskey. That oughta do it, she thought.
She sipped her whiskey and sat, trying to get her head around what she had seen and regain her composure. I should have called the cops, she kept thinking. Isn’t it wrong not to? She was impatient for Julie to arrive. She needed to tell somebody about this.
“Hey!” Julie finally sat down across from her. She looked more relaxed without all her makeup and her showgirl costume but she frowned, leaning across the table and looking at Lucy with wide eyes. “Hey, are you okay?”
“I just…” Lucy rubbed her forehead and sighed. “I just saw some shit. Go down. Serious shit. It was awful. And I should’ve called the police, but I just ran. Oh God, I have to tell the police. What’s wrong with me?”
“Whoa whoa,” Julie said. “Tell me what happened?”
Lucy relayed everything to Julie whose eyes got bigger and bigger but Lucy put that down to the awfulness of the whole situation. She ordered herself another drink, and feeling like she could eat, she ordered some hot wings on top of it.
She was eating her ghost pepper wings and feeling a lot better now that she had told someone about it but Julie was looking at her like it was the end of the world. “Mr. Marco?” She said flatly. “You’re sure the guy’s name was Mr. Marco?”
“Yeah,” Lucy replied, nodding. She had a bad feeling that she couldn’t quite place but Julie only looked worried as she leaned on her hand. “That’s definitely what he said. His name was Sean. The guy who got killed.”
“Don’t go to the police,” Julie said, narrowing her eyes.
“What-”
“Do not go to the police. You can’t. It just sounds like maybe this guy is powerful. Bad idea. Pretend you saw nothing.”
“But-”
“Promise me,” Julie said firmly.
“Okay,” Lucy said slowly. “I promise. I hope nobody saw me nearby. Eventually, the police will be on it.”
“Yeah,” Julie said, taking a long drink of her vodka tonic. “They will be.”
“You okay?” Lucy asked. “I know it’s kinda heavy.”
“Yeah, of course,” Julie said, in a tone that Lucy didn’t quite believe. “I’m good.”
3
Jack
“Holy shit,” Jack muttered. “It’s so fucking hot in here.”
The air conditioning was not only off, but the heat was turned up to a scorching eighty-eight degrees because according to Sean’s notebook, eighty-five was the minimum temperature needed to keep an egg gestating properly if you didn’t have the mama dragon sitting on top of it and you didn’t have a heat lamp. He’d ordered a heat lamp. He was tempted to drive an hour through the crawling drive time traffic of the strip to the pet supply store to buy one in person but he’d already made the order. He figured he might as well wait. It was supposed to arrive the next day. In the meantime, he was sweating bullets in his penthouse with the egg and rereading Sean’s notebook for the tenth time.
He had put on some music for the benefit of the egg and he talked out loud to himself, imagining that the egg might appreciate it. At least he hoped so.
The most worrisome part of the whole scenario was not knowing how long he’d be babysitting the damn thing. But he tried not to let those bad vibes affect his attempt at parenting.
The next day, after a restless night of little sleep in his sauna of a penthouse, Jack showered and dressed after devotedly checking on the egg. He didn’t like the idea of leaving it alone yet he had to get some work done. He couldn’t babysit all day. He’d already spent half the morning with the little guy.
He was just about to leave, having nestled the egg in a pile of fleece blankets in a small box in his bedroom when his elevator pinged. He put on his jacket and grabbed his phone and in his foyer, he found his doorman looking worried.
“Curtis?” Jack said. “What’s the problem?”
“There are two cops downstairs,” Curtis replied. “I stopped them before they came up because they don’t have a warrant or anything but they want to talk to you.”
Jack felt his stomach tighten just a little, although he wasn’t too worried. “Okay.” Jack nodded and clapped Curtis on the back as they went to the elevator. “Well, stand easy. I haven’t done anything. I’m sure it’s something to do with somebody in the casino or who knows what.”
“Sure,” Curtis said, looking uncertain. “That’s probably it.
“You guys watch too many movies,” Jack smirked.
They were quiet in the elevator as it shot down to the floor and in the wide and mirrored corridor, Jack found two uniformed cops waiting for him and looking stern. Jack cleared his throat and wracked his brain for what this could even be about. He thought of Sean and wondered if it had something to do with him, considering how sketchy Sean had been acting. But as flaky as Sean had sometimes been, dabbling here and there in
places he probably shouldn’t have, Jack didn’t think there could be enough to bring two cops to his door. Or he hoped not, anyhow.
“Officers,” Jack said smoothly. “How can I help you today?”
“Mr. Damon.” The lady cop looked stern. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she kept one hand rested on the nightstick on her belt. The cop with her looked younger and wore glasses. He was clearly the rookie. “My name is Officer Richards. Did you know a Sean Baker?”
Jack missed the “did” and then heard it and his hair stood up before he told himself to calm the fuck down. “Sean?” Jack said. “Yeah, I know Sean. We went to high school together. He’s a friend.”
The two cops looked at each other and Officer Richards asked, “When’s the last time you saw him?”
“Can I ask what this is about first?” The bad feeling was getting more intense. His hackles were rising and the dragon inside him paced, its fire creeping up the back of his throat. He could feel it in the back of his head which was physically, completely impossible. It was a weird psychosomatic thing he’d felt since he was a boy when something bad was happening; fire in his head. Not like anger, but more like anxiety that threatened to become rage. Sometimes breathing fire seemed to contain it.
“Sean Baker was murdered,” Officer Richards told him quietly.
Jack stared at her and shook his head as if certain he’d misheard. The sounds of the casino seemed too loud in his mind; sharper and angrier. “Sorry. What was that?”
“Sean Baker was killed,” Officer Richards said. “Last night in the parking garage behind The Rio. He was found early this morning. Gunshot wound to the head.”
No.
Jack stumbled back and leaned against the mirrored wall of the corridor. His heart was pounding and he broke out in a sweat. At the end of the hall there was a petite girl with dark hair, wearing dark skinny jeans and a leather jacket. She was looking at him funny. He didn’t think to tell her to go away. He couldn’t think of anything at all actually.
“I didn’t…” He shook his head. “Are you sure it was Sean?”
“Yes, sir,” Officer Richards responded, sounding a little apologetic. “I’m sorry about this. We need to ask you when the last time was that you saw him. Your business card was found in his jacket and you had recent texts in his phone.”
If he had been thinking clearly, maybe he would have said he wanted to talk to his lawyer. There was every chance he himself was a suspect, whether he’d actually done anything or not. But he couldn’t even begin to think clearly.
“I saw him last night,” Jack said dully. “He… He did seem edgy. He wouldn’t say what was wrong. He just…”
“Why did he want to talk to you?” Officer Richards asked. Her stare was hard but it was bright enough that it jolted Jack back into thinking more sharply and he thought quickly.
He couldn’t tell them about the egg. Mainly because he was a dragon shifter and shifter business was always kept away from the humans, at least when possible. Sometimees you found yourself all tangled up. That was inevitable, especially if you were trying to live a mostly human lifestyle. Compromises had to be made.
“He just wanted to…” Jack sighed and ran a hand through his slick hair. It wasn’t too difficult to lie. Not about this. “I think he was pretty freaked out and scared. He just wanted to have a drink with a friend. Get his feet under him. He seemed kinda upset but he said he just had to get some shit together and he’d tell me what was wrong later.” Jack chewed his lip. He actually wanted to tell them more. As much as he could. But he kept hearing Sean’s voice in his head telling him to “protect the egg”. That was the most important thing. That was everything. “He said he had a girlfriend and she died. Violet. He didn’t tell me how.”
“Hmm.” Officer Richards nodded, scrutinizing him. “Anything else?”
Jack put on a little show of thinking. “No… He didn’t stay long. Just had one drink. It was about eleven in the evening, I believe.”
“That makes sense,” the other cop said, piping up. “Baker talked to Damon then went straight to the parking garage. Lines up with time of death.”
“You have anyone who can verify your whereabouts after Sean left?” Richards asked grimly.
“Yeah,” Jack said. “My doorman. I have to come through here to get out of my penthouse and he’s here all night guarding. He would have seen me.”
The cops looked at each other and nodded. “That’ll do for now,” Richards said. “Thank you, Mr. Damon.”
“Sure,” Jack replied. “Just let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”
The cops left and Jack stood staring, thinking of Sean in high school; laughing in P.E., dribbling across the court, young and kinda messed up but happy when he was playing with Jack.
He couldn’t feel it. He didn’t like that. Sean had died. He thought he should feel that.
He caught his reflection in the mirror. He sure looked like he was feeling it. He looked pale now and a little gaunt. He couldn’t remember if he’d looked that way before.
On reflex, he walked to the end of the mirrored corridor that looked out on the casino floor. Everyone was much too loud and bright. That mystery brunette in the leather jacket was standing nearby, looking at him worriedly, but he ignored her. He had an urge to yell at everyone. Sean was dead. Everyone should know it. They should not be allowed to be happy because his oldest friend, Sean, was dead. He heard somebody win a jackpot at a slot and scream with joy and he winced and turned on his heel going back to his elevator, ignoring Curtis as he stepped in and pressed the button for his penthouse too many times after swiping his key card for access.
Sean is dead, he thought. Sean is dead.
He thought should be crying. But it was too surreal to make sense of. How could Sean be dead? He’d just seen Sean.
He walked into his penthouse, the wall of awful heat hitting him like a mack truck. He had forgotten about it already. But it was almost cleansing, the scorching, thick warmth that hit him as he took off his jacket and threw it down and stood in the middle of his penthouse, staring blankly.
He took out his phone and looked at the last text he’d received from Sean only a minute after he’d called: B right there. One of those stupid unnecessary texts. Jack used to tease him about that, the way he texted sort of redundantly when he didn’t have to. Jack went into his bedroom, the bright red walls and silver bedding of his Vegas penthouse, now suddenly painful and nightmarish. He didn’t even like this stuff. Why did I keep it this way? I should have redecorated this place.
He felt strange as he walked to the small box that sat on his dresser right under one of the heating vents. The top was open, and he stood by it and peeked inside to see the fleece blanket he’d packed in there and the shiny dark blue and silvery egg nestled in there inside.
Jack stared at the egg and said, “You’re an orphan.”
And all at once, he began to cry.
4
Delilah
People didn’t seem to sleep in Las Vegas and that was fine with Delilah. The casinos went all night and people came in and out, ordering their free drinks and seeing shows and smoking indoors as they played the slots and lost or hopefully gained back some of their vacation money at roulette.
Delilah sat in front of a video poker machine and sipped a Bloody Mary.
It was eight o’clock in the morning.
This mission already felt different. She’d only just gotten here and already somebody had been murdered and a dragon shifter kid who hadn’t even been born yet was orphaned.
At least her charges hadn’t been murdered. But she was starting to think there was a danger in that. Katz had warned her that this mission would be unconventional and she was starting to see what he meant. Dark wizards were one thing, but she had skulked around that parking garage and seen the police investigating the murder of Jack’s friend. This was mafia stuff. Vampires and thuggish magical types, Delilah understood. But human crime? Yikes.
Before that, she’d followed Lucy to The Starlight Bar and listened in on her conversation with Julie.
Julie knew too much. That was clear. Lucy had seemed too distracted by what she’d witnessed to realize it, but Julie clearly at least knew somebody who knew somebody. Delilah’s instincts had perked up at the way she’d sounded, telling Lucy not to go to the police. That meant something.
Now, Delilah played video poker and consulted Oracle, her handheld device that contained as much knowledge about her matchmaking targets as the Angelic Dimension was willing to bestow on her with something close to omniscience.
Lucy had been going about her night and day. She’d slept at home. She had not gone to the police yet. Jack was staying close to his penthouse, it seemed. Apparently, he was very upset. Delilah actually felt bad for him.
The question was how to bring these together. There was also the fact that Lucy hated Jack from what Delilah could already tell. This was going to take some doing.
Delilah spotted Julie heading to the stage and followed but stayed stealthy, hopping from shadow to shadow as Julie made her way to the Cypress Room and the dressing room behind it. She hid behind the door and watched Julie go inside and sit down at the vanity, taking out her phone.
“Artie,” Julie said into the phone when she had dialed. “Yeah, it’s me. I have a question.”
Artie. Julie’s boyfriend, according to Oracle. Artie, the low-level mobster, Delilah now saw as Oracle supplied new information that it had not had before as Oracle was on the fritz just as often as it was working. Artie was a mobster and he worked for Marco...who had killed Sean Baker…
Oh shit.
Delilah watched Julie talk to her boyfriend, knowing full well what was about to happen and the chain reaction it would definitely cause. She hid behind the door, her mind racing.
Vegas Baby Dragon (Guardian of Mates Agency) Page 3
