Betting on Bear (Charmed in Vegas Book 6)

by Tabitha Conall

  “Only because I’m here.” Naya slowly pulled her hand out from under his. “Of course I’ll help you.” She pulled her shirt over her head and dropped it on the ground.

  “Whoa!” Hardiman picked up her shirt and pressed it against her chest. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going into the water. I don’t want my clothes to get all wet.”

  The next thing he knew, she’d dropped her jeans to her ankles. “Naya, everyone can see you!”

  She shrugged. “Not for long.” She kicked off her jeans and toed off her shoes while he tried to cover her up. Then she hauled herself up onto the edge of the fountain and swan-dived into the water.

  As Hardiman held her clothes, Naya swam to the woman. She grabbed the edge of the woman’s flowing white dress and used it to grab hold of the binding cord and untie it. As it fell off and drifted to the bottom of the fountain, the woman transformed. Hardiman hadn’t even realized she was sickly looking until she bloomed and glowed.

  Four other naiads appeared. Naya and the first woman quickly removed their binding cords, careful never to let them touch their skin. When all of them were free, they swam back to the edge. Hardiman put Naya’s clothes aside and hauled the women out of the fountain two at a time.

  As soon as they were all out, he pulled Naya’s shirt over her head.

  “Stop,” she said. “My clothes are getting all wet.”

  “That’s better than everyone looking at you,” he said.

  “Is it? I’m better covered than some swimsuit models.” Naya pulled her shirt away from her skin.

  She had to be kidding. “No, you’re not. The fabric of your underwear is see-through when it’s wet.”

  She blushed.

  About time. Hardiman called the precinct and had them send out some uniforms to take the naiads’ statements. Even in Vegas, enslaving sentient beings was against the law. Bruce May would go to prison for a long, long time. Hardiman felt a vicious sense of satisfaction at putting away the man who’d tried to harm his mate.

  Naya stood next to him as they waited for the police to arrive. “We still haven’t found Sneezy.”

  “Any ideas?”

  “We go back to the magic shop and see if they know what it was I bought last night. They should be open by now, right?”

  “Right.”

  A black town car pulled up to the curb in front of them and the two goons from the Den of Cupid got out. The shorter one put his hands up as though to show he wasn’t armed, but Hardiman saw the piece concealed under his jacket.

  “We just want to know where Sneezy is,” the goon said.

  “Or his stuff. What did you do with Sneezy’s stuff?” The shorter thug stopped next to the taller one but didn’t bother putting his hands out.

  “What is it you’re looking for?” Naya said.

  The two thugs focused on her. Hardiman didn’t like the way their eyes roved over her body, her wet clothes sticking to her and leaving little to the imagination, so he stepped in front of Naya to shield her.

  The shorter goon shrugged. “He has something that belongs to our boss. That’s all I can tell you. She wants it back.”

  So their boss was a woman. That narrowed things down, but not by much. “All of Sneezy’s belongings are potential evidence,” Hardiman said. “We can’t just hand anything over to you. If he stole something from your boss, make a statement and we’ll charge him for theft.” If they weren’t willing to accuse Sneezy formally—and he doubted they would—then the item they were looking for had to be illegal. And if it was illegal, Hardiman wanted to know what it was and who they were working for.

  “We don’t want any trouble,” the tall guy said, leaning forward a little. “We just want the thing he took from us. It’s not even his, so where’s the problem?”

  Two squad cars pulled up and parked behind the black town car. As the cops got out, the two goons took a few steps backward.

  “Look, we’ll check in with you again later,” the short one said.

  “Why not now?” Hardiman moved toward them.

  “Hey, Shorty!” one of the cops shouted. “Fancy seeing you here.”

  The two thugs hurried toward their car and jumped inside. A second later, they peeled away from the curb.

  Hardiman headed for the cop who had called out. “You know who that guy was? Who does he work for?”

  The cop, a tall, blond-haired beanpole, nodded. “Yeah, I know them. That was Shorty Atkins and One-Eye McGillicutty. They work for Madame Renaud, the mob boss.”

  Naya came over to stand next to him. “That explains why Sneezy kept telling me his life was in danger. If he stole something from Madame Renaud, he’s in deep trouble.”

  That made sense. But now Hardiman wanted to know what Shorty and One-Eye were after. He and Naya needed to find Sneezy first, and then if Sneezy wanted protection, he’d have to hand the item over to Hardiman.

  Half an hour later, once the police had bundled the five naiads into blankets and left to take them to the station and get their statements, Hardiman and Naya got in his car and drove to the magic shop. He parked, then helped her out of the car but when he tried to put his hand on her back, she stepped away.

  Nothing he’d said had made a difference. “Naya,” he growled.

  “The shop’s open.” She walked away from him, leaving him standing on the curb.

  She’d be the death of him. But it didn’t matter. They were mates. He couldn’t live without her. So he’d have to convince her to give him a chance. He had no choice.

  Determination. Determination was better than anger.

  He tensed his jaw and followed her into the shop. He needed to get his head back in the game. First, they’d find out where Sneezy had gone, then he’d convince her to stay with him.

  Naya reached the front counter of the shop before he did. A small, mousy teenaged girl stood behind it, heavily adorned with magical jewelry. “Were you working last night?” Naya said.

  “No, I’m on day shift,” the girl said in a surprisingly mature and beautiful voice. “Dave was on last night. But I’m sure I can help you with any questions you might have.”

  Naya dug the two vials out of her pocket as Hardiman came to a stop beside her. She put them on the countertop along with the receipt. “As far as we can tell, these two vials were purchased here last night. We need to know what was in them.”

  The girl picked up the receipt. “It’s right here. ML3 and RM2. ‘ML’ is for Memory Loss and ‘RM’ is for Remembrance.” She poked at the two vials. “Looks like the memory loss potion was used, but the remembrance potion wasn’t.”

  Hardiman sucked in his breath. “That’s why—”

  “—I can’t remember anything.” Naya forgot herself, turning toward him and looking into his eyes. “Somehow I got whammied with the memory loss potion.”

  “Is there a cure?” Hardiman asked the girl, though he didn’t take his eyes off Naya. If she was willing to look at him, damn sure he was looking back.

  “All she’d need to do is use the remembrance potion,” the girl said. “Although if she dosed herself, it might be that something bad happened, something she didn’t want to remember.”

  Could something bad have happened to Sneezy? They needed to find out. Hardiman couldn’t fix things if he didn’t know what had gone wrong. But if she had gone through some trauma, he intended to give her her peace as soon as he found out what he needed to know. “Do you have another one of those memory loss potions?”

  “Of course.” The girl came around from behind the counter and led them down an aisle. “Here they are.” She pointed to vials identical to Naya’s. “The Memory Loss 3 and Remembrance 2 are our strongest versions of each of those.”

  “Thanks,” Hardiman said. “We’re just going to look for a minute.”

  She shrugged. “Sure.” She shuffled back to the front of the store.

  “I think you need to take the remembrance potion,” he said.

  “Of course—”


  “But if she’s right and you were trying to forget something awful, then as soon as you tell me what happened to Sneezy, you’ll take the memory loss potion so you can forget again.”

  She opened her mouth and he could tell she was about to argue.

  “It’s my job to protect you,” he said.

  “Since when?”

  “Since I said.” He wanted to say, ‘since you’re my mate.’ but he still hadn’t found a good way to tell her.

  She looked away.

  At least she wasn’t arguing. He pulled the remembrance potion out of her hand. “Do you know how to use this?”

  She shook her head, still staring at the floor.

  Hardiman trudged back to the front of the store and asked the clerk.

  “You can drink it,” she said. “Although I don’t suggest that. The best way is to pour it over your head. Gets you a little wet, but it has the best results.”

  Naya squawked when he told her. “Do you know what my hair looks like when it dries on its own?”

  “I haven’t had that pleasure.” He smiled.

  Big mistake. She poked him in the chest. “You stop that. You stop acting like everything’s going to be okay. Nothing’s going to be okay.”

  “It will if you’ll just listen to me.” But had he really told her the truth? She didn’t know she was his mate, fated to be his one true love. Maybe if he explained that he’d fallen in love with her the very first time they’d met, and that he’d been struggling with his feelings ever since. Maybe if he told her there would never be another woman for him but her—

  Naya yanked the cork out of the remembrance potion she’d brought with her. “Maybe it’ll do you good to see what you’re trying to get yourself into.”

  She poured the sparkly purple liquid over her head.

  Chapter 8

  Her memory came back smoothly, like she woke up and recognized she was awake. She simply remembered that she’d forgotten.

  And then there it all was, as though she’d never forgotten at all. She shoved the empty vial in her pocket and grabbed a fresh Remembrance potion. She wouldn’t need the Memory Loss potion now that the man who’d wanted to bind her was in jail.

  Then again—he could get out. She pulled a Memory Loss potion off the shelf. She’d keep one in her purse, just in case. If he came after her, she’d make him forget he ever saw her.

  As she strode to the front to pay, Hardiman trailed behind her. “So? Do you remember anything?”

  “I remember everything.” While the young clerk rang her up, Naya pulled out her credit card. “I know where Sneezy is. We just need to go get him.”

  He took her arm. “And you? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “But you took the Memory Loss potion last night. Why?”

  Right. “Do you have a plastic baggie I could put these in?” she asked the clerk. She could feel her cheeks growing warm. Without looking at Hardiman, she added, “Last night the cork on the Memory Loss potion came out unexpectedly and I got it all over me.”

  “You dosed yourself by accident?” he said.

  She could imagine his scorn. If he hadn’t regretted coming onto her before, surely he did now.

  “It happens more than you might think,” the clerk said. She pulled a baggie out from under the counter. She handed Naya’s credit card back to her along with a bag with the two potions in it.

  “Thanks,” Naya said. She headed out of the store, avoiding Hardiman’s eyes.

  “Naya—”

  “Don’t. Just don’t.”

  “Fine. Where to?” His voice sounded sharp.

  “The club. We should have gone in when we were over there this morning. This could all have been over then.”

  “You going to tell me what happened?”

  She might as well. While he opened the car door for her and waited while she got in, she started at the beginning. “After we left that awful restaurant, Sneezy and I walked back to the hotel by way of the Blue Horizon casino.”

  She folded up the baggie with her potions in it and shoved it into her pocket. “You know what happened at that point. I saw the naiads in the fountain but before I could save them, Bruce May came running out of the casino with a binding cord.”

  Hardiman started up the car and pulled away from the curb.

  “So I ran, dragging Sneezy along with me. I didn’t want to lead that man back to the hotel, so I figured I’d lose him first. But I couldn’t. He was on our tail and Sneezy couldn’t or wouldn’t run fast enough.

  “Then we reached that street we were on earlier today. We’d gained a little distance and managed to run into the club. I hoped I’d lost him but unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of our troubles. Inside that club, they dance the eternal dance around a beautiful fountain in the middle of the club. There are safeguards in place, but we were running and Sneezy got caught up in the dance, and when I tried to retrieve him, I got pulled in myself.”

  “Eternal dance?” Hardiman said.

  “Yeah. It’s a Faerie thing, and it can be deadly. People forget who they were, forget everything about their lives. They aren’t even aware of their bodies, and don’t realize that they’re hungry or tired or sore. They just dance. And unless someone saves them, they dance until they die.”

  Hardiman growled low in his throat.

  “I’m not sure how long I danced, but I don’t think it was too long. Next thing I knew, I was dripping wet and the naiad of the fountain was yelling at me to wake up. She’d recognized me as a fellow Krenaia and knew that if she doused me with her fountain water, I’d wake.” Hardiman hadn’t asked what a Krenaia was when Bruce May labeled her as one, so she didn’t bother explaining the word.

  “As soon as she saw that I’d come to, she pointed at the door, where Bruce May had his binding cord and was arguing with the bouncer. She told me to leave, that she could hide herself and that the bouncer wouldn’t let any harm come to her but that I had to get out of there before the man saw me.

  “So I ran out the back. I ended up in the alley and before I could figure out what to do, a limo full of giggling women stopped beside me and they pulled me inside.”

  Hardiman pulled up in front of the club and parked in a ‘no parking’ zone. They got out and headed for the door.

  “You can guess the rest,” Naya said. “I decided to ride things out, considering they were taking me away from that man. We ended up at the chapel where we figured out that I’m Angelique’s doppelganger. I declined their invitation to attend the wedding and instead headed across the street to the magic shop. My plan was to use the memory loss potion on the man and the remembrance potion on Sneezy.”

  They quickly flashed their badges at the bouncer then entered the club.

  “But before I came back here to get Sneezy, I decided to stop at the hotel room. I wanted to check my weapon, considering the dousing it had gotten. I also wanted to change into dry clothes. But when I got to the room, I pulled the potions out of my pocket and the vial with the memory loss potion came open and spilled all over me.”

  The inside of the club was dark. Naya remembered where everything was, and led Hardiman toward the row of tables in the middle of the room.

  “Next thing I knew, the phone woke me up when you called from the lobby. I guess I went to bed, although I was still wearing the damp clothes I’d had on the night before. So maybe I passed out.”

  She gritted her teeth, waiting for his snarky remark. After several moments of silence, she snuck a look at him.

  “If he’d caught you, I would have killed him,” Hardiman growled.

  Her mouth was still hanging open when they reached the tables. Why? Why would Hardiman want to kill someone—for her? She was ready to believe that he didn’t hate her and probably never had. But that was a far cry from killing for her.

  Hardiman grabbed her arm. “How do you know you’re not going to get caught in that thing again?”

  “See the tables? Last ni
ght, we ran past them. But they’re here to protect us.” She stepped up to the only table that was manned. In the middle of the afternoon, the club was almost empty. “We want to see the Dance,” she told the woman behind the table.

  The woman pulled out two clipboards. “Read and sign these releases. And then if you want medallions to keep you from getting pulled into the Dance, they’ll be ten dollars each.” She laid two large, golden-colored medallions on the table. Each one had a silken red ribbon attached, so you could put it over your head.

  Hardiman read through every line of the release form, while Naya quickly signed her name at the bottom without glancing at the text. She could imagine what it said—the club wasn’t liable, the Dance was technically in Faerie, not Vegas, etc., etc. All convenient excuses to hold an extremely dangerous event in the middle of a tourist town and get away with it. Strike five against Vegas.

  Naya pulled twenty bucks out of her wallet and gave it to the woman. They wouldn’t need a medallion for Sneezy, since the remembrance potion should last long enough for them to get him out of the building before he could get caught up in the Dance again.

  “You should have let me pay,” Hardiman said. “I’ll pay you back.”

  She scowled at him. “I’ve got money.”

  Before Naya could reach for one of the medallions, Hardiman lifted it and dropped it over her head, resting it against her breastbone. It seemed far too intimate an act, made worse when he brushed his fingers against the spot where he’d nearly bitten her just hours earlier.

  Naya shivered. Is this what it would feel like if she were Hardiman’s true mate? Cherished and protected?

  Yet what chance was there of that? If her family had taught her anything, it was that love wasn’t something she was entitled to. The thought that fate would have given her a mate was laughable. She pulled away.

  Hardiman growled again, then pulled the second medallion over his head. “Let’s go get Sneezy.” He took hold of her upper arm. “Then we need to talk.”

  Over her dead body. That was one conversation she most definitely did not want to have.

  They walked toward the archway that led to the dance floor. Already she could hear the strains of flute and violin music and feel the sounds wrapping around her, tugging at her. Once they passed into the room, she saw chairs all along the wall, with people sitting and watching the Dance. All of them wore medallions around their necks. What kind of sadists would want to come and watch other people obliviously dancing their lives away?