Code Name: Nina's Choice (Warrior's Challenge)

by Natasza Waters

  Two seats over, a husband hovered behind his wife, patiently waiting for her to get her fix. The woman’s fingernails dug into the soft leather-bound corner, which meant she had little left in the machine and she wasn’t getting more from the husband. If the machine didn’t pay up, she was outta the game. Her husband’s expression was of anticipation. He wanted to move on. Tony stood close enough to make himself look like he was doing the same to a young woman who’d spent too much time at the pool. Being a redhead, her burn filled in the roadmap of freckles across her cheeks and nose. He adjusted his shades, and let his eyes scan the crowd.

  “Where are you from?” the girl asked.

  “Chicago,” he lied, not looking at her or offering a smile.

  “I’m here with my friends. Wedding,” she added.

  “Congratulations.”

  “Oh no, not me. I’m single.”

  Great. “Sorry, honey, I’m not.”

  The little redhead collected her purse and quickly departed. No one liked being shot down, but he’d also managed to lose his cover.

  “Drink, sir?”

  A sweet, busty gal in the house uniform hovered with a tray balanced in one hand, and an interested tilt to her head. “No thanks, honey.”

  She nodded curtly and moved on; so did he, shifting to another bank of machines. He scanned the lobby with a parallel search pattern. Sweeping through the crowd, and starting again. His eyes stopped short on a woman.

  Crossing the vast, marble lobby with long-legged strides and a quick step, she walked as if she were on a tightrope a hundred feet in the air. Tourist? Nope. The expression she wore wasn’t of awe or searching for a lost friend. The woman walked with purpose. She knew where she was going. Her ponytail flounced with a thick sway as she weaved through the people. She was definitely in a hurry.

  Before he realized it, he’d taken five paces to watch her a little longer. Tony forgot all about his mission until she disappeared into a mass of people swelling toward the lobby. He blinked, and gave himself a mental kick in the shins. Kick in the shins— The thought reminded him of squirt when she’d kicked him after he’d called her that the first time. He grinned. He liked the little redheaded twerp. They’d get her back, take care of Cayson, and hightail it to Coronado. The discipline would be swift, but the severity is what Tony worried about. Going AWOL was serious, but his swim buddy’s mission was more important. They’d explain their position, and maybe with the Admiral’s help and Redding’s, they’d only be demoted or docked pay.

  For now, they needed a knowledgeable contact. Everyone was connected. He’d learned that rule long ago. They’d come to Vegas with nothing but a name: Pedro Quadero. Tony needed to find that someone who knew everyone in Vegas.

  They didn’t have weeks to burrow into the darker side of Vegas. Cayson owed money to this guy, and he was using his own daughter to get it. What kind of a bottom-dwelling bastard did that? Pedro had to be linked to a gang or mafia.

  The mafia was still alive and well, they just conducted business differently in the twenty-first century. Whether they were cartels or gangs, they all existed here; preying on people and their addictions to drugs, gambling or sex. Everyone had a weakness. Human nature made everyone fallible, but SEALs knew the triggers and their weak spots. Training taught them how to control or overcome them, and if not that, then a fellow SEAL set you right again.

  Tony stepped onto the patterned carpet that acted like a yellow brick road into the thick of the gaming tables. Where was he going to find a contact who would lead them to Gabbs? Time was ticking and they needed the upper hand before they paid the men who had Gabbs. He knew Mace would only allow the money to change hands as a last effort.

  * * * *

  Lumin fought her way through the tight corridor of performers. Only five minutes late. There was still time to get into her costume, and be ready for her performance.

  “Hey Lumin…late again,” her friend, Star, shouted from a makeup mirror as she wiggled a tiara into place on the crown of her head.

  “Not late, Star, just fashionably tardy,” she said, grinning back.

  “Don’t think Gordon’s gonna see it that way. He was here a minute ago looking for you.”

  Sure he was, Lumin thought to herself, but it was more likely a hopeful attempt at getting her into bed by threatening her job for the fiftieth time. Although she was only a second liner, people still came to see her. It was her act they air brushed onto the publicity posters secured to cabbie roofs and on billboards along the Strip.

  Lumin quickly slipped into her costume, adjusted her headpiece and bolted for the door.

  “‘G’ was looking for you,” Alejandro said, doing preshow practice stretch-outs.

  “Which way did he go, so I can go in the opposite direction?” she asked, slowing her step.

  With a flick of his head, he motioned to the left. Lumin twirled to the right and headed toward the other stage access. The house was sold out. They called their show the affordable Cirque de Soleil. When her cue came, she ran onto her mark. The theater was circular in shape. The stage sat in the center so everyone had a premium view.

  She never imagined she’d follow in her mother’s famous footsteps, but the world of acrobatics came easy to her as she and her brother traveled with their parents from show to show growing up. Her mother had brought breathless anticipation and joy to those who watched the Prima Donna of the high-wire act.

  Her parents’ routine had moved to Europe five years ago and Lumin had opted to remain in the States.

  A line descended from the dark ceiling where the crew deployed them coordinating the different routines. Gripping the loop, she was quickly hoisted thirty feet above the floor. A complex system filled the stage with water, and blocks grew from the depths below as the show progressed.

  The audience clapped when the lights crossed at the point where she hovered above the stage spotlighting her. More lines drew up a team of men, their bulging arms and strong torsos in stark comparison to her lithe frame. When her line began to swing in long circles, she hooked a toe and inverted her position. The guys performed their acrobatics with quick, strong turns and held their bodies horizontal while they swung in expanding arcs. The air show was one of the favorites. The crowd loved the tension, building as they spun and twirled with the chance that one of them could fall. It happened, but not often. A small beam was lowered to hang high above the crowd, and her line, with expert precision from the crew above, swung her close enough to take hold of the stabilizing bar. When she hooked her leg around it, she released her safety line and found her footing. There was a slight sway to the beam, enough that she had to concentrate.

  The music altered to a low, mysterious ballad with a hint of suspense. One light targeted her, and the audience fell silent. Her first step was always the unknown step until she made herself one with the beam, the feel of it curling beneath her toes. With careful, graceful movements she made every step count. She felt the atmosphere and her audience, smiling as her mother had taught her to do when she was a little girl, learning to balance only three feet off the ground. She loved the freedom of dance and the danger that came with the height as her beam was drawn farther away from the ground.

  Lumin reached the other side, and the crowd exploded with applause. Within seconds, a line dropped from the darkness and she hooked one foot through the loop. With a graceful dive from the beam the men above swung her across the audience. The stage below came alive, blocks grew into a mountain rising out of churning water with several plateaus. She was as much at home in water as the element of air. Her friend Star was the premiere swim lead, but Lumin could hold her own in the water. Star moved through the bubbling lake surrounding the stage like a mermaid, swift and graceful. She scampered up the side of the mountain to the peak. Thunder and lightning flashed above them. From the tormented sky, they were lifted aloft and then dropped into the pool, each with an arcing dive.

  Her part had a tragic end. She and Star were sisters durin
g the act, and the loss of Lumin began the adventure for Star.

  While the other actors continued the show, Lumin snagged a makeup station and applied a little lip gloss after drying off. Not much makeup covered her twenty-six years. She stared at herself. Slim features with high cheekbones and bright blue eyes reflected back at her. Thousands of beautiful women lived and worked in Las Vegas, and every guy who traveled into town for a three-day package figured they could score with the blonde who stared back at her in the mirror.

  She started when Gordon appeared behind her.

  “You made your mark with little time to spare,” he said, placing his palm on her bare shoulder.

  Gordon managed the show, and thought it gave him an open invitation to every female performer which included an option between their thighs. She’d politely rebuked his advances and would continue to do so. She could headline in several shows along the strip. Gordon mistakenly held the same thought as other men: because she was blonde, she must not have been born with brains. She had plenty.

  Her mamma had tried to keep the act in long-running shows while they were in school. Sometimes Lumin and her brother Jed were homeschooled, but they’d finished the last three years in Las Vegas. She learned early on to keep her eyes and ears open. Information flowed like fiber optics, and she learned a lot that way, especially in a town like Vegas that held secrets most tourists knew nothing about.

  Locals ignored the sea of changing faces that swarmed like ants in the casinos, but she could retain them all. Each one left a small seed to germinate in her mind. The criminal element tried their best to remain unseen. Innocence bumped against dark shadow and brushed shoulders with it all the time in the desert city. The dark side of Vegas was best left to back rooms and alleyways.

  A friendly face could be your worst nightmare, like the handsome man who had watched her as she’d made her way into work tonight lingered in her mind. He wore shades and a T-shirt with a beer logo, his lean body filled his jeans and cinched at a taut waist. Muscles twined down strong arms. Dirty blond hair, cut short, topped a handsome face with a sharp-edged jaw that floated in her memory. She’d only seen him out of the corner of her eye, but he had watched her. That concerned her. He might be trouble; she would watch and see.

  “I might cut it close, but I don’t miss my mark,” she said coolly, shifting her shoulder to hint she didn’t want his hand on her. Gordon moved his hand, but looped a finger in her hair, curling the strand.

  “Headlining the show is an option for you, Lumin.” His words carried the unmentioned part of the contract in his gaze.

  Turning in her chair, she glared up at him. “I’m exactly where I need to be, Gordon. Thank you.”

  “You’re talented.”

  “I know that, and I can get another act if I have to.” She cemented her gaze to him. Her mama offered a lot of wisdom about the entertainment world. One piece she never forgot was about men like Gordon. Their power and position went to their heads, but they only possessed it if you let them intimidate you. There’s a boatload of street smarts behind your elfish beauty, her mother told her before they left for Europe. Use it wisely and never show them who you really are.

  “Lumin!” Star called out as she entered with a gaggle of female performers behind her. “Tonight you’re coming out with us.”

  She shook her head. The girls in the show were new to Vegas, and that included the ones that had been around for a couple years. They loved to indulge in the nightlife, flirting with college boys and rich businessmen, who forgot they were married when they came to town. “No thanks, Star.”

  “Yes,” Star insisted as she flopped down at the makeup station beside her. “There’s a new band playing here at the Grand Palms. They’re Canadian and apparently they rock. You’re coming. At least for an hour.”

  Gordon had taken a step back, not being included in the girl talk. He gave her a heated gaze and then began barking orders at some of the younger girls, who were still intimidated by him. Star rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue behind his back, which made Lumin laugh.

  “One hour. No more. I have studying to do.”

  “God, girl, you and your studying. I’m surprised you don’t glue those law books to your backside.”

  “Got them on my iPad, don’t need them glued to my backside,” she threw back.

  “Hurry up and get changed. The group is on in fifteen minutes and we have to get to the other side of the casino.”

  The Grand Palms’ three-billion-dollar investment rivaled the biggest on the Strip. She knew the owner Steven Porter and his wife Moira. For billionaires they were down to earth people. At least Moira was. Her parents had been friends with them, and they were asked to keep an eye on her while they were away in Europe.

  Steven Porter owned a good portion of Hollywood, and his wife Moira was the salt of the earth type. Although Steven seemed like the ultimate Alpha boss, always dressed in Gucci and Gabbana designer clothes, sitting behind the wheel of fancy cars, Moira kept him turning in circles whenever she was around. She didn’t have anything to do with the casino life, but being the wife of a magnate meant they lived in Nevada with their twins for half the year and LA for the other half. Lumin often babysat the twins if they had an event. Moira didn’t want a nanny, even though Steven had brought four of them home. One, he’d brought from England. Within hours the stuffy nanny was relieved of duty. Steven would grumble and Moira would tell him to stifle it, which always made Lumin laugh.

  They seemed totally different in personality, yet the love they shared was palpable. Steven’s polar ice-colored eyes always softened when they settled on Moira. They beat the odds, and left the divorce courts and paparazzi hungry and turning themselves inside out for a story. Steven kept his business face on whenever he was in the company of women who wanted his attention, and they always wanted the attractive billionaire’s attention.

  Like her parents, Steven and Moira weren’t just married; they had a continual love affair. Since Lumin had been on her own, she’d been offered jewelry, expensive clothes, dinners and straight out cold hard cash to spend a night with the wealthier tourists. None of them wanted love or a future, and she had resigned herself to the same fate. Men only saw the outside of her and never wanted to know what was under the beauty.

  “I’m ready,” she said, throwing her hair up into a ponytail and thrusting the shirt she’d had in her bag over her head.

  Star grumbled as she quickly scrubbed her face free of the makeup. “Who do you think you’re going to impress with that outfit?” She flicked a dissatisfied look in Lumin’s direction.

  “Not going to impress anyone. Just going for one drink and then I’m out of there.”

  “When was the last time you had a boyfriend?” Star asked, pulling her toward the door.

  “Think I kissed a boy in grade eight,” she wisecracked.

  “Seriously?”

  “I am serious. I don’t have time for a boyfriend, and who the heck am I going to find in this place, except transients?”

  “Those are the best kind,” Star tossed over her shoulder leading the way down the narrow corridor toward an exit the performers used to short-cut the crowds in the casino. “They’re here for a good time, not a long time.”

  “Believe that would be defined as a slut,” she said, grinning at Star.

  “Guys are called studs, and we get the title of slut because we want a good time. How is that fair?”

  “Life isn’t fair, but it gets fairer if you have a profession instead of being at the whim of guys like Gordon.”

  “He’s an asshole, but if you weren’t so beautiful he’d leave you alone.”

  “I’ll wear a bag in the future.”

  * * * *

  Tony needed to use the head. Turning the corner, he stopped short and stared at the poster. “Neptune’s Daughter,” the name of the water show premiering at the Grand Palms, stared back at him and his stomach did a little tumble. It had been hours since he’d eaten. An odd, sk
ittish feeling jumped through his blood as he gazed at the beautiful, lithe creature balancing on a beam high in the air. Her smile made his heart beat quicker, and her blue eyes moved something else below his belt. He didn’t forget a face, and he’d just seen hers an hour ago. Looking to the bottom of the poster, Tony read the publicity tag and her name: Lumina. What a beautiful name. He shook his head to clear it. Get with it, man. He swung around the corner into the bathroom, and had an idea while he was in there.

  A performer in this town knew it better than most tourists. She might have a lead to who Pedro was. Maybe even where to find him. Lumina looked like a pageant queen or the high school homecoming queen, and he doubted she’d have anything to do with Pedro’s type, but he reminded himself that a sweet girl with innocent eyes could be deceiving. After eleven years with the SEALs, witnessing women and children who sacrificed themselves for a cause in the Middle East, a face was only a covering. What lay below in the mind and the heart held the truth about a person. He worked his way toward the theaters and lucked out. A buxom brunette had Lumina in tow, and they were hot-footing it toward the clubs. He kept up with them, but out of their sight.

  Coming on as a horny tourist was probably something she was used to. His gut told him she wouldn’t tell him a thing if he came on to her. How should he play this out?

  Five minutes at a fast pace brought them to “La Vida,” a night club he and Mace frequented when they came for a quick Las Vegas jag. He and Mace had gotten their first tats together here in Vegas. They were well sheeted to the wind, but the guy doing the tat was an artist instead of an ink hacker. Luckily, he did a good job. SEALs didn’t ink themselves with anything that could identify their profession, but most guys had at least one tat that had meaning. Swim buddies would often do it. Mace and he had inked their right shoulder blades with two sticks of dynamite, the fuse almost burned out, and instead of TNT written on the stick they inked their mothers’ initials.