There was no doubt that they would see each other again.
All in good time.
Brandon headed toward his surfboard, whistling. He brushed shoulders with another man on the threshold of the bar, a man in his thirties with dark blond hair and sunglasses. That man eyed Brandon with curiosity before coming to join Chen.
“Fraternizing with the enemy?” Jean-Pierre asked as he took a seat, only the most faint French accent clinging to his words.
“Recruiting,” Chen corrected, and smiled. JP looked as if he would ask more, but Chen wasn’t interested in sharing all of his plans with his newest acolyte.
JP was merely a pawn in Chen’s game, although he was foolish enough to imagine his role to be more significant than that.
Of course, Chen had lied to him to encourage that view. What was important about JP was that he would bring Chen the Pyr with the strongest affinity to water.
First, Lorenzo and his link to water.
Then Brandon and his link to earth.
Then Thorolf and his link to air.
Chen would take care of fire himself.
JP shimmered slightly, on the cusp of change himself. Chen was delighted to see the effect of the Dragon Bone Powder, even on the Slayer. He would need to replenish his stores soon.
“Something in the air here,” JP said, that blue shimmer dancing around his body. He glanced at the beach. “All these kids. Raw testosterone.”
“Not quite,” Chen said, smiling into his pineapple juice.
JP watched him for a moment. “So, you said you needed me to capture Lorenzo and persuade him to join you,” he said, removing his sunglasses. “You haven’t told me why it will be worth my while to help.”
“The Pyr owe you a debt for the murder of your brother.”
“That was Quinn and Donovan who cut down Lucien.” JP frowned. “I don’t see what Lorenzo has to do with it.”
Chen smiled. “It is often better to work from the inside. I find the idea of turning one Pyr against the others appealing—and potentially very effective.”
JP studied the older Slayer for a long moment. “Why me?”
“You are the ideal Slayer to aid me in this quest, because you appreciate the necessity of stealth,” he said, watching JP’s gaze brighten. “Have you not watched Quinn and Donovan for years, awaiting the perfect moment for vengeance?”
JP appeared to be uncomfortable. “I thought no one knew that.”
Chen smiled again. “Today, we negotiate your compensation.” With those few words, Chen knew that he had this Slayer’s undivided attention.
Perfect.
Chapter 1
Las Vegas
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Tacky, tacky, tacky.
Cassie Redmond knew from tacky, but this town really kicked it up a notch. The lights. The velvet paintings. The casinos. The fake attractions and the rhinestones. It was the relentless glitz that drove her crazy. Everything was shiny and everything was an illusion.
Her reaction was probably stronger because of her own current view of the world. Cassie was sick of celebrities and sick of publicity, sick of “spin,” sick of everything that pretended to be something it was not.
As a freelance photographer specializing in candid shots of celebrities, illusion was tough to escape. Cassie was part of the paparazzi, one of the best of the best, because she excelled at the hunt and in nailing the perfect image.
In a way, her job was to help to perpetuate illusion—and her current attitude wasn’t healthy for business.
Which explained her decision to take her first vacation since, well, since she’d packed up her camera and moved out of her parents’ house at eighteen. She’d never looked back. She’d never stopped working either.
And how could she not take a vacation now, when her best friend needed her so much? Stacy had been suddenly, unceremoniously, and undeservedly dumped by that fast-talking loser Cassie had warned her to avoid. Only a month before their planned trip together to Vegas to tie the knot. Despite Cassie’s earlier misgivings about Mr. Supposedly-Wonderful, Stacy had been heartbroken.
Cassie and Stacy went all the way back to kindergarten, so one teary phone call had been all that was necessary to have Cassie agreeing to join her pal.
Although Cassie had thought it might be smart to change the destination, Stacy had insisted upon a full-frontal assault on her favorite city in the world, Las Vegas. Stacy’s logic was that she wasn’t going to lose her deposit on the trip, as well as her fiancé and plans of marital bliss.
Cassie hadn’t had the heart to say no.
Even if Vegas was the last place she wanted to be.
Not that she could fault Stacy. They’d gone to two shows a day, were staying at a wonderful hotel, had taken a flight over the Hoover Dam, and had partied like rock stars.
It still felt a bit thin to Cassie. She was fantasizing about hiking through the Grand Canyon, maybe seeing something real.
It was day three of the non-honeymoon and Cassie was trudging down the Strip behind Stacy in the blazing sun. She knew that if she never saw another stage show, silicone-implanted breast, or slot machine in her life, she’d die a happy woman.
That wouldn’t be soon, though. Stacy had tickets to every single show playing this week. That was the curse of slot machines—Stacy had won $2,200 on her first pull and was determined to spend it all.
They had gotten tickets for a matinee a bit late and there hadn’t been any cabs. Plus the Strip was jammed with traffic. Since they were just going to the next big hotel, they’d decided to walk. It was much farther than either of them anticipated—the hotel properties were enormous—and much hotter than they’d realized. The midday sun was brutal.
“This is going to be the best,” Stacy insisted, marching briskly in her fuchsia sling backs.
Stacy, it had to be said, did sparkle. She was already striking, being five eleven, curvy, and blonde, but for Stacy, there was no such thing as too much embellishment. There was no missing her in those shoes. Never mind the low-cut pink camisole—with sequin trim—or the skintight black leather skirt. The glittery nails. The false eyelashes and swinging hoop earrings.
Vegas was Stacy’s kind of town.
Cassie and Stacy were as different as two women could be—which was probably why they’d managed to remain best friends for almost thirty years.
Cassie felt positively humdrum in her trademark jeans and cowboy boots. Practical and comfortable, that was her mantra. Forgettable. She could disappear into the crowd at a moment’s notice. Nobody would ever catch her in a pair of shoes like Stacy’s.
She never knew when she might have to run after a shot.
She never knew when she might need to blend into the wallpaper.
All the same, Cassie was regretting her jeans. She should have gone with her khakis. She was going to be soaked by the time they arrived at the next hotel.
Her BlackBerry vibrated and she tugged it out of her pocket.
“You’re on vacation,” Stacy chided.
“Got to stay in touch,” Cassie argued as she scanned the screen. It was a message from one of Cassie’s favorite editors. This one kept her promises and paid on time.
On this occasion, she was prepared to pay a lot. The number made Cassie’s eyes pop. It had to be a typo. She sent a reply to confirm the figure.
“What’s up?” Stacy asked. “Are you going to dump me, too?”
It was a joke, but not really.
“Remember those dragon shape shifter guys on that television show by Melissa Smith?” It had been the story of the year, maybe of the decade, for the world to discover that there were dragon shape shifting men living among them.
Assuming that a person believed the story.
Cassie didn’t
.
Stacy nodded. “There was that hot one on YouTube, too. Yum!”
“This editor wants pictures of one while he’s making the change. Man to dragon. Or the other way around. No Photoshop stuff.”
Stacy gave her a look. “Do not tell me that you’re taking the job.”
Cassie shrugged. There was no chance of that. “The shots can only happen if the dragon guys are real.”
“Well, of course they are! That guy on YouTube was as real as you and me. I saw him!”
Cassie bit back her skeptical reply as the editor’s answer came in. The offer had doubled, just in those few minutes. It had been a long time since she’d seen so much money flashed around over pictures. The money piqued her interest, if not the work itself. “Doesn’t seem like she’s getting any takers.”
“Put that thing away. You promised!”
Cassie read the message again, her gaze lingering on the dollar figure. If anyone could get those shots, it would be her.
If the dragon shifters called the Pyr were real.
On the other hand, what if Cassie could prove that they weren’t real? That was the most interesting idea she’d had in months.
“Vacation,” Stacy chided, then spelled out the word.
“I’m not working.” Cassie insisted. “I left my cameras at home.”
“Uh-huh.” Stacy was skeptical.
“Just curious.”
“Uh-huh. Look—I promise if I see a dragon shifter, I’ll let you know. Now put it away!”
“If I wanted to work, I could have done it already. I’ve seen Britney Spears and Brad Pitt and George Clooney. Lots of opportunities, but I have no camera.”
And absolutely no urge to work.
Which was the strange part. Cassie had never been unmotivated before. Was it burnout? Or something more? She couldn’t help thinking that she’d been warned this would happen—and that her mentor, Wade, would have laughed himself silly if he could see her now.
Maybe he could, if heaven had a view.
“Lose the BlackBerry,” Stacy advised. “It’s going to break you.”
“I like to stay in touch,” Cassie protested by rote.
“For what? Work you’re not going to take?” Stacy did a fingertip wave. “Hello, my workaholic friend. Why are you finally taking a vacation anyway? Have you ever taken a vacation? Not that I remember. I just about fell off my chair when you agreed to come with me.” She leaned closer and her eyes narrowed. “There’s more going on than you’re telling me. I’m going to force fancy drinks into you until you confess the truth.”
“Nothing to tell,” Cassie lied. “I’m here for you.”
“As if,” Stacy retorted. “You never do anything for less than four reasons.” She pointed at the BlackBerry with challenge in her eyes.
Cassie deleted the message. She showed the display to her friend. “See? All gone. Temptation denied.” She shoved the device back into the pocket of her jeans.
“Keep it turned off during the show,” Stacy insisted, and Cassie nodded agreement. “Now, let’s hurry.”
The offer didn’t leave Cassie’s thoughts as easily.
A stretch limo drove by and Cassie thought again how odd it was for her to be without a camera. She supposed it was more real to just be here, like any other tourist. That thought made her smile.
“What’s so special about this show again?” she asked, trying to summon a bit of enthusiasm. The shows were starting to blend together.
“Lorenzo’s Trial by Fire,” Stacy said, awe in every syllable. “It’s supposed to be great, absolutely amazing. The tickets were so expensive. The concierge had to get them from a scalper. It’s sold out completely this week.”
Cassie had the vague sense that she’d heard of this guy. “What does this Lorenzo do for his trial by fire? Walk on hot coals?”
“He’s an illusionist or magician. Whatever you call them now.”
“We went to a magic show two nights ago. The Cirque du Soleil . . .”
“No, no, no. This is totally different. It’s just the one guy. Nobody else. It’s supposed to be really incredible, with fire and pyrotechnics—a can’t-believe-your-eyes kind of thing. Lots of glamour and flash.”
Ah. Sparkle. No wonder Stacy was excited. Cassie smiled.
“And he does what exactly?”
“Magic!” Stacy flung up her hands, the rings on her fingers glittering. “I can’t wait. He even takes questions from the audience and he knows all the answers!”
Cassie tried not to roll her eyes. “That just means it’s rigged, Stacy. They’re planted props, not actual audience members.”
“No, that’s not true.” Stacy’s defense was immediate and vigorous. She was always ready to believe. “This girl I work with, she came here last year and asked him when she’d get engaged. She wasn’t even seeing anyone, but Lorenzo said she’d be engaged before Christmas. She met this guy the next week and he popped the question on December 23. Isn’t that amazing?”
“Or lucky,” Cassie murmured.
“Plus he’s supposed to be gorgeous.” Stacy made a little purr in her throat.
“I wonder whether that’s an illusion too.”
Stacy stopped in the street to confront Cassie. “You’re too cynical, that’s what your problem is.”
Cassie didn’t suggest that Stacy could stand to be a little more cynical. Given the circumstances, it would have been tactless.
She kept her tone level. “Well, what did this Lorenzo guy have to lose? Your friend asked a question, he made up an answer. If he was right, she’d think he was amazing. If he was wrong, well, she’d already paid for the ticket to see his show.” Cassie shrugged, inviting Stacy to agree.
Stacy laughed. “Trust you to boil it down to that. You’ve got to believe in something, Cassie.”
“Yeah, well, I’m waiting for something that’s worth believing in.” Cassie didn’t want to point out that Stacy kept getting hurt because she kept believing in guys who didn’t deserve her faith. It was a lot safer to just refuse to believe in anything.
Work. Cassie believed in work.
Or she had until recently.
“Anyway, he’s got this big spectacle coming up on the weekend.” Stacy dropped her voice to a whisper. “He’s supposed to come back from the dead.”
Cassie laughed despite herself and got a look from Stacy. “No, really.”
“Yes, really. He’s going to get buried alive in the desert for a month.”
“Sounds like he will be dead.”
“So, this week might be the last chance ever to see his show,” Stacy enthused. “No wonder it’s sold out. We’re so lucky.”
“It’s brilliant marketing,” Cassie murmured, keeping her voice low enough that Stacy could just ignore her comment.
She did.
An orange Ferrari swerved past the two women just then, cutting through the traffic to shoot through the intersection on a red light. It looked like a tongue of flame moving down the busy Strip, slipping in and out of traffic with ease. It was moving really fast.
Too fast.
A police cruiser raced in pursuit, lights flashing.
Cassie smiled.
“That was him!” Stacy squealed, clutching Cassie’s arm. Her new rhinestone-embellished fingernails dug in deep.
“Who?”
“Lorenzo! Didn’t you see the custom plates?”
“Didn’t you see the cop? Your hero is getting a ticket.”
“An escort, more likely.” Against all probability, Stacy walked even faster. “Oh my God, I can’t wait to see this show. Do you think he’ll answer my question?”
Cassie hurried behind her friend, suddenly having a very bad feeling. “What question? What are you going to ask him?”
“When I’ll fall in love for real, of course.” Stacy rolled her eyes. “Come on, Cassie, what else is there that matters? My stupid job? My mother riding my butt about her lack of grandchildren? Celebrities?” This last earned Cassie a look, as if the whole culture of popularity was her fault.
Cassie would have picked her job over love any minute and twice on Sundays, but she knew Stacy didn’t agree.
“I thought you were going to take it easy for a while, spend some time alone and all that.”
“Right. Then I’d be like you.” Stacy grinned, taking the sting from her words. “Nope, I have no desire to ever be alone, even for one day.” She lowered her voice to a hiss. “Plus I need sex soon.”
“I can help with that,” a guy passing them said.
Stacy gave him a cutting look, then looped her arm through Cassie’s. “Come on. It’ll be fun. Like I said, he’s gorgeous.” She rummaged in her purse, then shoved a flyer at Cassie.
Cassie studied it as they walked, letting Stacy guide her.
Lorenzo did look like a handsome beast, but Cassie knew the magic that a good photographer could do. In fact, he was beyond good-looking, with those chiseled features and dark, curly hair. His eyes were hazel with bright flecks of gold, like little lights. His lashes were long and dark, lush for a man, but it was the way that he looked to be on the verge of laughter that made the image so compelling.
Great shot. He looked both mysterious and approachable, trustworthy. Lorenzo had done the smart thing on his promotional shot, and looked directly out at the viewer. It was as if he were making eye contact. A little illusion there, but a good one.
And that half smile was good. Sexy. Sensuous. She’d bet he smiled slowly, like he knew something special about you. All your secrets revealed. She shivered a little.
Then she hoped he wasn’t short. Lifts would ruin everything.
“You’re probably hoping he isn’t short,” Stacy charged.
Cassie laughed. “What if I am?”
“So shallow. Love transcends such details.” Stacy grinned. “And everyone’s the same height lying down, anyway.”
“You’re terrible!”
Flashfire Page 2
