Vegas Bites

by Dunbar, Natalie; Glass, Seressia; Jeffries, J. M. ; Banks, L. A.

  “Oh, be still my heart,” Esther pressed her hands to her chest. “How did you do it?” “I have my ways. Anything to make you happy.” Of course Harry had wheedled a huge donation out of her for UNICEF.

  Esther kissed her again. “You’re my favorite.”

  Esther told everyone they were her favorite. She was the best manipulator. No one turned her down—ever—because they all wanted to make her happy. A tiny touch of guilt rose in Solange because she knew her leaving was not in Esther’s plans. For the next hundred years, Esther would be sending subtle, underhanded gentle nagging to get Solange back into the fold. But Solange was going to be strong. She needed to make her own way in the world.

  Jarred Maitland settled back in the old, over-stuffed chair and balanced a mug of coffee on his knee. He had a hole starting in the knee his old jeans, and he smelled of stale casino smoke. He smothered a yawn. He’d intended to go beck to his apartment after his shift, but Kenny Brooks had left him a message to come right over to his apartment. “What’s the emergency?” The FBI didn’t pay him enough to sip bad coffee. He was more in danger of dying from the coffee than from being undercover. He would have been in bed hours ago, except he’d decided to head to the office to file his reports and hadn’t made it that far.

  Kenny Brooks poured himself a cup of coffee. His lean six-foot frame barely fit into his rat hole of a kitchen. He walked out of the kitchen and sat on a green banged up sofa. Kenny smiled. His pale liquid silver eyes shone with something that made Jarred nervous.

  Secrets—secrets Jarred didn’t want to know. Kenny was a man who felt he should be the top dog in the food chain, and when the weres and vamps had come out of the closet, so to speak, he’d lost his status and couldn’t seem to move beyond that.

  As Kenny sat on the sofa, he pushed a wisp of blond hair back off his receding hairline. An old air conditioner wheezed in the window, but didn’t seem to make much of a dent in the heat flooding in through the picture window opening over the dreary parking lot. Except for a large, elaborately embossed copper box sitting on one of the end tables, Kenny’s apartment was as dull and dreary as the complex in which he lived.

  Because of its elaborate scrolls and exquisite workmanship, the copper box stood out against the coarseness of the apartment. Jarred tried to focus on it, but his eyes kept sliding away to look everywhere else. The box left him uneasy, and he didn’t know why.

  Kenny was human with no ties to any of the preternatural societies, but he seemed to have uncanny abilities. The FBI knew he was responsible for the burglaries of a half dozen casinos in the last fifteen years, but had no proof. Which was the major reason Jarred had been given the assignment of infiltrating Kenny’s gang. Las Vegas depended on its ability to create a playground, a fantasy, and Kenny had inserted a discordant note that left the city on edge.

  “Greg was killed in a car accident last night,” Kenny said without preamble, his voice flat and cold. “We don’t have an inside man anymore, and we need those codes and blueprints of the subbasements. More current than the ones Greg was able to get me.”

  Greg had been in security, and Jarred wondered if Kenny was lying. Had Greg really died in an accident, or had Kenny done something to erase him from the land of the living? On the surface, Kenny appeared like a regular guy, but deep down inside Brooks was just a touch on the freaky side. No one with an atom of sense would risk their life to rob a casino owned by a werewolf pack. At least not for twenty million dollars when they didn’t need the money—like Kenny. So why take the risk? Jarred had come to the conclusion Kenny needed to be at the top of the food chain like he was before the world knew about vamps, werewolves goblins and other ghoulies walked with the human race. “Are we walking away?”

  “I’m not letting the robbery go.”

  Good, he’s too much of an egomaniac to let it drop. Jarred wanted to burn Brooks so badly, he would commit the robbery himself and frame him. Too much hinged on Jarred completing this undercover assignment successfully. “What are you going to do?”

  Kenny opened the manila folder on the coffee table and took out what looked like a photograph. “I have backup plans.” He tossed a photo on the smudged coffee table. “What do you think?”

  The photo was of Solange Warwick, personal assistant to Julius and Esther Temple, owners of The French Quarter casino. Anyone who spent any time around the casino knew exactly who the lithe, tawny-skinned beauty was. Kenny’s candid photograph had caught her deep in conversation with Malcolm Temple. There was a touch of deference in her posture, every muscle knew this man was in charge…and something else. She was sad. Her shoulders hunched, her full mouth was turned down. What a shame. Beautiful women like her shouldn’t be unhappy. A smart man would be spending all his time trying to keep a woman like her satisfied. So why was she sad?

  Jarred glanced at Kenny. He assumed he’d gotten the job of snaring her because…well, women weren’t Kenny’s taste in playmates. “Why Solange Warwick?” She was a werewolf; she could tear him apart with one hand tied behind her back.

  “Seems like the beautiful Solange is in love with the owner’s son and got kicked to the curb. Can’t tell me a beautiful woman like her wouldn’t like a taste of revenge.”

  “Trust me, if she was going after the owner’s son, she isn’t going to downgrade to a night club bouncer.” Or a human.

  Kenny smiled, giving Jarred an up and down appraisal. “You underestimate your charm with the women.”

  Which left Jarred feeling like he needed a shower. “Are you pimping me out?”

  “For your share of twenty million dollars, hell yeah! I’m pimping you out.” He pushed the photo of Solange across the table toward Jarred. “This is one beautiful woman. Frankly, if she did anything for me, I’d be on her myself, but I’d rather date you.” He gave Jarred a flirtatious wink.

  Jarred had gotten used to Kenny’s flirtatious ways, but not even to bust this gang was he going to pitch for the home team. He picked up Solange’s photo. She was a beautiful sister with high cheekbones, large chocolate eyes, buttery smooth skin and rusty black hair brushing the tops of her shoulders. He’d seen her around the casino enough times to know she was the type of woman he liked.

  “You need to get to her fast,” Kenny said.

  “You really want me to seduce a werewolf?” He placed the coffee mug on the table and stood. “She’s still a woman.”

  “She could tear my head off.” Kenny shrugged.

  “She won’t. So get to it. I need those codes.”

  “Why not you?” Even though Kenny went both ways, he had

  his own preferences. Kenny glanced at the closed bedroom door. “Otherwise engaged,” he said.

  “Right.” So Jarred would have to get in bed, figuratively speaking, with a werewolf, a woman who changed from human to animal and bayed at the moon. She was beautiful, and all he could hope for was not ending up dead.

  With the Texas Hold ‘em tournament having begun, the casino was stuffed to the gills with players—humans, vampire and weres, not always a good combination—legitimate guests and looky-loos dragging themselves in from the heat to watch the play for a few hours.

  Though the traffic had been light because of a huge was fight a couple days back, the hard-liners were still around. Which was why Kenny was interested in The French Quarter. The winner of the tournament was going to take home a sweet twenty million dollars, unless Kenny got his hands on it first. In fact, the owners had placed the twenty mill on display in a large glass case in the very center of the casino with four guards and a guard dog on duty. For sixteen hours a day the money was visible, along with the tournament trophy. The move had brought a lot of people through the doors.

  Kenny stared hungrily at the closed bedroom door, licked his thin bottom lip. Jarred knew the time to leave, with his new instructions, had arrived.

  He walked down the rickety steps to the parking lot, sidestepping a pothole and getting into his car. He started the motor and pulled out onto T
ropicana. When he was block away, he flipped open the glove compartment and pulled his cell phone to call the office. Even though he was on loan from the L.A. office, he still had to check in with his new boss who just happened to be his old roommate from Quantico.

  “Harrison Jones,” Jarred’s boss said on the second ring.

  “Always the professional.”

  Harry laughed. “What’s going on Maitland?”

  “I just got handed a new assignment, romancing the Temple’s personal assistant because Kenny’s inside weasel, Greg, was killed last night in a car accident, or so Kenny is telling me.”

  “I’ll check with Metro P.D. and see if I can find anything unusual. But I can’t see Brooks jeopardizing his heist so close to the big day.” The robbery had been scheduled for the second to the last day of the tournament, and Jarred was starting to get nervous. Everything about Kenny urged caution, and the longer Jarred was in his company, the more nervous he became.

  “Brooks hides it well, but personally I think he has a lose screw rattling around in his head. Why would he leave a comfy life style in Philadelphia where his daddy owns half the city and take on a casino owned by weres who would eat him in a minute? He has five times the money in his trust fund than what he’s stolen in the last fifteen years.”

  There were a few seconds of dead air from Harry’s end. “That, my friend, is the difference between us. Why do I need this job when my daddy’s a U.S. Senator? I could have ridden on his coat tails, taken a job on his staff and had a fine career in the political arena. But a political job would have been dull…deadly dull. But say whatever you will about Harrison Jones III, I’m not dull.” Dull was definitely not a part of Harry’s personality. He was Mr. Practical Joker. He was a good man, with a good personality and a good sense of fun, and Jarred was enjoying working with him. “Brooks may have all the money he needs, but we both know he’s a sociopath and not too happy with his position in this new world order and social structure. And, inheriting money will never be as exciting as stealing it. Especially if he’s taking from a were pack.”

  Jarred’s traditional middle class upbringing said to work hard, and he’d get what he wanted. And what he wanted all his life was to be a G-man. Being with the FBI was the coolest job on the planet. Being undercover was more fun than he liked to admit. Every few months, he got to be somebody new, and always was the good guy wearing a white hat. And he’d need a white hat before this assignment was over, because he knew Solange Warwick was going to end up dead when Kenny was done with her. Kenny didn’t leave loose ends.

  Chapter Two

  The employee cafeteria was crowded with the conflux of two shifts coming together. People moved along the buffet, pushing their trays. The French Quarter had always treated its employees well, and even though they worked for a werewolf pack, the humans had given their loyalty. Solange found an isolated corner table and watched as the night shift entered and the day shift got ready to head home.

  Solange was surprised to see Laurel, head of security sitting around a table surrounded by her lieutenants. Since the big pack fight, her pack sister had been working non-stop keeping the peace, plus the fact her mate Butch had arrived in town. How nice to see someone getting their happy ending.

  At another table, Malcolm and Guy finished their meal and stood up to leave. Guy tossed a flirtatious wink her way, but Solange knew it was more to irritate Malcolm then a come-on to her. Guy wouldn’t gain any points by bedding her. Oh he’d have a good time, but that’s all. Omegas were good for sex and errands in the werewolf world. At least no one treated her like dirt in this pack. No one wanted to answer to Julius or Esther.

  Solange tried to ignore Malcolm, but she saw him scowl at Guy as if he cared. Then Malcolm turned to her, she couldn’t read his expression, but she was sure it was pity. Solange blood began to boil. How dare he humiliate her then feel sorry for her. Frankly all she wanted to do was walk over to him unsheathe her claws and slash them across his face. She could almost feel the blood dripping from her claws. Then she noticed all the weres stopped what they were doing and faced her. Oh God she must have sent out a very ugly scent to make the beasts stop eating. Not much got between weres and their food. Taking a deep breath she smiled as she tried forgetting her utter humiliation. Malcolm gave her a brief nod as he passed, and she watched him head out the door. At least the pity was gone from his eyes. Score one for Solange. Although she knew it was a hollow victory, she let the pride wash over her if only for a few seconds. Fighting wasn’t in her nature, she retreated.

  More than anything else, what made her sad was the loss of Malcolm as a friend. No matter what he had to put the pack first, to keep the pack strong. In her heart she could accept his decision. If only her pride would let her, maybe she’d figure out a way she didn’t have to leave.

  She had to get away, to put the hurt behind her, to make a new life for herself. Though she was truthful enough to know she didn’t love him in the way he needed to be loved, she did respect him and considered him a friend. The distance he’d put between them hurt.

  The French Quarter’s black Elvis impersonator entered the cafeteria. He wriggled his eyebrows at Solange and she found herself grinning back. She couldn’t stay morose with Elvis around. Simone had hired him years ago. He’d not only been the first black Elvis in Las Vegas, but he also had the distinction of being the only black Elvis who was also a vampire.

  A seductive musky smell tickled her nose taking her thoughts from Elvis. Solange inhaled deeply letting the captivating masculine smell wash over her senses. Her eyes widened when she realized a human male was behind the scent. Whoever the man was he smelled wonderful. Turning her chair she snuck a peek over her shoulder. A tall brother sauntered toward her. Solange felt her teeth sink into her bottom lip to stop the sigh wanting to escape. Normally a man carrying a pink lunch tray just looked plain ridiculous, but Mr. I’m-A-Stud just looked really hungry. Knowing he wasn’t looking at her she let her gaze wander down his body. Long black braids hung over his muscular shoulders, which tapered down to lean hips and powerful thighs. God if he were a wolf, he’d be the baddest Alpha in the building. Still feeling safe staring, she trailed her gaze up until she stopped on the most beautifully full lips the gods ever made. The entire package of the man was wrapped in smooth almond colored skin.

  And he was human. Shifting her gaze up she stared into deepest brown eyes she’d ever seen. But what startled her most were those magnetic eyes staring right at her.

  Solange gulped finding herself unable to look away.

  “May I join you?”

  She gestured at the empty chair across from her, even as her head told her fraternizing with him was dangerous, but she just wanted to smell him some more.

  He wore a black T-shirt with the Marti Gras logo on it and black pants identifying him as a bouncer at the nightclub “Thanks.” He set his tray down and settled on the chair. “You’re wearing a nice piece of amber.”

  She touched the heavy amber stone shaped like a pear hanging around her neck. “Thank you, it’s my favorite. I collect amber.”

  He eyed the amber nestled between her breasts. “I’ve heard that anyone who touches amber, a piece of their soul is stolen.”

  Again, she was startled as she felt a tingle of awareness caress her spine. “You know the mystery of amber.”

  Lifting his eyes to her face he was smiling. “My grandmother loved amber. She was a chorus girl with an all black revue that traveled around Europe in the late twenties and early thirties. She met this Communist guy who had a thing for her. He followed her all over Europe and showered her with amber. He even showed her the amber room in the Kremlin.”

  His smile was friendly, but in his eyes she saw a hint of desire. Her stomach tightened. Solange started to tell him she’d seen the amber room, too, until she remembered she was a werewolf, and humans didn’t like being reminded about the difference in their life spans. She, Esther, Simone and Julius had gone to Russia to negotiate a trea
ty with Russian wolves. They had stayed with the Czar and his wife. Her amber was probably older than this man’s grand

  mother. “The amber room was beautiful.” Which was as close as she could come to letting him know she’d seen it. He lifted one eyebrow. After a moment, he gestured at the amber. “May I?”

  She nodded her throat dry, and he reached across the table to caress the amber. His fingers were long and solid. His fingers lingered on the stone, and when he withdrew, there was a look on his face she couldn’t interpret. For a split second she wondered what his fingers would feel like on her bare skin. An uncomfortable heat settled between her legs shocking her. Her nipples were peaked. Solange had the urge to get up and run away. No one human or were had sparked this kind of desire in her.

  He smiled. “Now you have a piece of my soul forever.”

  She caressed the stone still warm from his touch and felt a blush steal up her cheeks. She felt were eyes on her. Oh my God, her hormones just exploded! Her eyes darted around the cafeteria. Black Elvis was smiling enjoying the show. Laurel’s mouth was on the table and the two were males with her. Mike and Sam had their hackles up. “Ah yes.” God she wanted to fan herself to cool herself down.

  “By the way, my name is Jarred Maitland.” He held out his hand, curling his fingers around hers.

  Her immediate reaction was to pull her hand away, but she liked his touch. “I’m Solange.” His strong hand sent heat up her arm. She hadn’t dated a human male in a long time, and she’d forgotten how utterly captivating they could be. Dating were males was more primitive, more like a contest with each of them trying to figure out who would be the top wolf. Human men had the same competitive nature, but were more charming about it. She liked the human approach better. With human males she felt like a prize, with wolves she felt like a bone to be sparred over.

  “I haven’t seen you at the night club in awhile. Don’t you feel like dancing?”