She gave a soft snort of laughter. “Um, no.” She patted his chest. “Let’s fly.”
Her command made him grin like a fool in love. Which he was. He leaped forward, easily clearing the knee wall that surrounded the roof. He climbed quickly, taking them up a few hundred feet only to bank and face the resort once again. “Suite 3810, locked on target. Brace yourself, we’re going in.”
He felt her tuck her head against his body. That was his sign. He closed his wings over her, turning himself into a gargoyle bullet, and dove. Wind whistling past, he plunged straight through the floor-to-ceiling window of Suite 3810. The glass exploded like a bomb. He landed in a shower of falling glass, some crunching underfoot. The inhabitant, a wolf shifter by the name of George Lunden, was too stunned to do much more than stare. Jason understood. Wasn’t every day a showgirl riding two hundred and fifty pounds of living rock flew through your window.
Claude hopped off. “Do your thing, honey.”
Jason went to his half-form. “Where’s Liza Anderson? We know you have her.”
The man’s mouth still hadn’t closed, although his eyes flickered with the glow of his wolf. His canines started to grow.
Jason head-butted him to the floor, then held him down with one hand. “You wanna go wolf on me, that’s fine, but you should know, no matter what form you’re in, I will hang you out of that broken window until you tell me where the girl is.”
Lunden’s wolf disappeared. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. He pointed toward another part of the suite. “She’s in the other bedroom. I wasn’t going to hurt her, I swear. I just needed the ransom money.”
“To pay your gambling debts, we know.” Jason shackled him, then jumped up and ran to the other bedroom. Claude followed.
Jason ripped the door open and found the woman handcuffed on the bed, her mouth covered with duct tape. “You okay?”
She nodded. Her makeup was streaked by tears. He freed her, then eased the tape off her mouth. “Thank you,” she whispered. “How did you know I was here?”
“Your husband reported you missing.”
“Did you get the bastard?”
“He’s cuffed and incapacitated in the other room right now.”
She threw her arms around Jason. “I was so scared.”
“You’re fine now.” Jason gave her a moment, then eased her arms off him. “This is my partner, Claudette. You can use her phone to call your husband. I’m sure he’s very worried about you.” That wasn’t quite protocol, but by the nod Claude gave him, he’d done the right thing.
She stepped up, her phone already out of her pocket. “Here you go.” The woman took it and started dialing.
Claude walked him out into the hall. “You did great. This was a super-clean Collection, and no one got hurt.” She kissed his cheek.
“Does that mean I passed?”
She nodded. “With flying colors, no pun intended. Let’s get this Collection turned in so we can hit the town. I’m ready to celebrate.”
He grinned. “You got it.” They’d brought clothes to change into, planning ahead that everything would go well and they’d have something to celebrate.
Thirty minutes later, they’d delivered George Lunden to Romero and Liza back to her husband. Romero had been assigned as Jason’s point of contact as well, and he’d been as impressed with Jason’s performance as Claude, happily welcoming him to the Collection family.
Mission completed, they went their separate ways to change. Jason got to their meeting spot first, right in front of the Blue Moon Casino, headquarters to the Sin City Collectors organization. He stood near the fountain, waiting for Claude. The only thing missing from his life now was her answer. Maybe tonight would be the night. Maybe tonight she would finally—
She walked through the sliding glass doors.
Jason whistled long and low. The little red dress Claude had changed into highlighted every curve. She strode toward him on towering leopard heels, smiling like she had no idea that male heads were turning her way.
He shook his head, amazed that she was walking toward him. “You look illegal in that dress. You should wear red more often.”
She smiled. “Thank you. I’ll make a note of that.” She slipped her fingers under his lapel, smoothing it down the length of his chest. “You know I love you in a suit.”
It wasn’t possible to want her any more than he did in that moment. “Where do you want to go?”
Her smile turned sly. “I was thinking home.”
“Home? I thought you wanted to go out?”
“I did, but I changed my mind.” She tipped her head to one side. “Besides, I’m almost ready to sign off on your performance.”
Jason frowned. “Almost? You already did that upstairs. Did something go wrong?”
She patted his chest, her hand trailing lower. “I wasn’t talking about your performance as a Collector. That’s a done deal.” She bit her lip. “Seeing you in action tonight…did things to me. Things that need to be taken care of immediately. We can go out after.”
His body tightened in response to her words. “Is that an order?”
She nodded. “Yes, one I expect you to obey as soon as we get home.”
Jason pulled her close, making a wave of tourists move around them. He didn’t care. “Maybe we shouldn’t bother going home. Maybe we should get a room. My military training makes me want to take care of that order right now.”
She tipped her head back and laughed. “Is that what it is? Your military training?”
“That and the fact that I am so crazy for you, I can’t stand it.” He shook his head. “Why won’t you say yes to me? What about me are you still unsure of?”
She stared up at him. “It’s not you, Jason. It’s me.”
A hole opened up in his gut, and for a heart-stopping moment, he thought she was about to break up with him. “What are you saying?”
She cleared her throat as she pulled away slightly. “I guess there’s no point in putting this off any longer.”
“Putting what off?” The sick feeling in his belly started to grow.
“Come with me.” She took his hand and led him back into the casino, finally stopping when they were in a secluded hall beyond a passage marked Employees Only. “It’s my other form.”
He furrowed his brow, but relief washed through him. “It won’t matter to me, whatever it is. There’s nothing you can show me that’s going to make me leave you.”
She sighed. “It might.”
He’d speculated that someone in her past, someone she’d trusted with her heart, had made her feel this way, but she always shut down when he brought up her past. He braced himself. “It won’t. I promise.”
She gave him a look. “What I led you to believe about the man that I was involved with being unable to handle me as a Collector was only partly true. He didn’t like seeing my aggressive side, but what really made him leave me was my other form. He couldn’t deal with it. Said it creeped him out and—”
“I had a feeling that was the case.” He took her hand. “I’m not that guy. Why don’t you let me decide?”
“Okay.” Her voice was so quiet it was like she was already resigned to the outcome. She pulled her hand out of his. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She closed her eyes, and in a blink, he was no longer staring at Claude.
He was looking at…her grandmother. “Claude?”
She opened her eyes and nodded. “Yes, it’s me. I’m a Grimalkin. Cats and crones, it’s what we do.”
The woman in front of him was the same height and the same build as Claude. She had Claude’s eyes, and she was wearing Claude’s dress, but she had silvery hair, and a life of laughter and tears showed in the lines on her face. He realized his mouth was hanging open. He closed it.
She looked away. Her eyes were liquid with unshed tears. “It’s too weird, isn’t it?” She looked for a moment like she might run.
He grabbed her arm. “It’s not weird. It’s who you are. And I lo
ve who you are.”
She looked through her lashes at him. “You’re serious?” She lifted her head and held her hands out. “This doesn’t bother you?”
He shrugged. “Nope. Although it would probably be best if this side of you stayed out of the bedroom. I might feel pervy if someone who could be my nana suddenly showed up wearing your lingerie.”
She smirked. “You’re not right, you know that?” She shook herself like a cat, and she was the Claude he’d fallen in love with again. “And now I’m going to be stuck with you for the rest of my life.”
His mouth dropped open again. “Does that mean you’re saying yes?”
She tugged her dress into place and smoothed her hair before she answered. “Yes.” She lifted a finger before he could celebrate. “But I have two conditions.”
“They are?”
She stuck her hand out. “Put a ring on it.”
“Does the Blue Moon have a jeweler?”
“In the Galleria.”
They’d better have some enormous rocks, too, because he was going to buy the biggest one in the showcase. He crossed his arms. “Done. Next?”
“I want to get married tonight. Right now.”
“Afraid I’m going to get away? Or change my mind? Because neither of those things is ever going to happen.”
A crafty smile lit her face. “Being a Grimalkin is like being a feline shifter on steroids, and if you think normal feline shifters are territorial, you have no idea what I’m like.”
He slipped his hands around her waist, unable to hold back his own smile anymore. “Hey, I get it. I’d want to lock me down, too. I mean, I am quite a catch, being a Collector and all, but just so you know, two can play that game. I’m going to put a diamond on you the size of a lighthouse beacon. There won’t be a man in this city who doesn’t know you’re married.”
She pressed against his body, her purr vibrating through him. “You know you’re not getting away without a ring, either.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He brought his mouth to hers for a long, hard kiss. “If a needle could get through this hide of mine, I’d tattoo your name across my back.”
She grinned. “You think it’s okay if I get married in red?”
“Sure, but are you going to regret not doing it up in a big white dress?”
One shoulder lifted in a shrug. “It would be nice to see you in a tux.”
He nodded. “Maybe invite a few people…”
She ran a finger down his chest. “Get a couple bottles of champagne…”
He smiled. “I know how you love champagne.” He bent his head so that their foreheads touched. “Let’s do this right. Because this is forever.”
She nodded. “Forever.”
He took her hand and led her out of the employee hall. “Let’s go get you a ring, then we’ll get some dinner. Collecting gives me an appetite.”
“I’m aware. I’ve seen you eat.” She laughed.
“Which way to the jewelers?”
“Left, then follow the signs for the Galleria.” She bit her lip. “Are we really doing this?”
“Yes. And it’s too late to change your mind. You already said yes.”
“I wasn’t going to change it. Just making sure I’m not dreaming.”
They walked hand in hand through the casino. Jason knew he was grinning like an idiot, but he couldn’t help himself. The woman who’d come to Collect him for stealing the Queen of Hearts had ended up becoming his.
She glanced sideways at him. “You’re awfully smiley.”
“I was just thinking that all my life, I’ve been the one in charge of getting people out of trouble, but you were the one who did that for me. You gave me my life back. And while I know you’re not the kind of woman who needs protecting, I can’t help but want to do just that.”
She gave a little shrug. “I’m okay with that. Just because I can protect myself doesn’t mean it’s not nice to have someone else want to do it.”
“Good. Because that’s who I am.”
She tipped her head against his shoulder. “I wouldn’t want you any other way.”
In that moment, Jason realized he’d never felt so free.
DEAD MAN’S HAND
A Sin City Collectors Novella
Kristen Painter
“This fun, fresh series ups the ante and takes you on a wild ride you won’t forget! Clever, fast-paced, flirty—Viva Las Vegas!”
~ Gena Showalter, NYT Best Selling Author
Welcome to Las Vegas, home of the Sin City Collectors. The job description is easy: Bring the offending supernatural in to the Boss and don’t ask any questions.
Demi-goddess and muse Seraphina Kostos has been tasked with bringing her employer’s wayward teenage daughter home. Not the hardest job Seraphina’s ever had—until her boss calls in a favor in the form of extra help. The man who arrives is unlike any she’s ever encountered.
Sin City Collector Ares rarely goes on typical Collections. Mostly because his skill set involves taking lives, not saving them. As the son of a vampire and a grim reaper, his touch holds the ability to reap souls. Sure, it makes for a lonely existence, but he’s learned to deal with that. Or has he?
Beautiful Seraphina has him questioning everything he’s ever known. Living the rest of his life alone suddenly seems impossible. But what kind of future is there with a woman he can’t touch or hold or kiss?
What’s Collected in Vegas, stays in Vegas…
*All Sin City Collectors Novellas are stand alone novellas, all set within the world of the SCC. Our goal is for you to sit back and enjoy the ride as each author presents their unique story. The world of the Sin City Collectors is big. Places and characters will overlap, so be sure to look for your favorites and stay tuned for more novellas!
For the Writerchicks – Y’all make this possible
The girl should have been home by now.
Alarm tripped along Seraphina Kostos’s nerves. Her fingers instinctively went to the nine-pointed star she wore around her neck. “Where are you, Dahlia?” she muttered as she walked toward the girl’s bedroom. “Late is one thing, but this is ridiculous.”
Seraphina had searched every inch of her employer’s substantial mansion, and Javier Bares’s daughter was nowhere to be found. This wasn’t good. This was the distinct opposite of good. The girl, Dahlia, was a handful to begin with, but this disappearing act was a step too far.
She’d run away once before, angry that her father wouldn’t give in and buy her the expensive designer purse she’d seen on some teen pop star. This time, it had been a blowup over the kind of car she wanted—no, expected—on her sweet sixteen.
Javier could certainly afford the purse and the car for Dahlia—he was very wealthy, thanks to his artwork, but he’d made himself into the man he’d become and wanted his daughter to understand the value of money. As Javier’s muse, Seraphina had gotten to know him very well, and she appreciated his reasons and his desire to raise a daughter who didn’t believe the world owed her something. Dahlia, on the other hand, appreciated none of that.
No doubt, that’s why she’d run. To teach her father a lesson.
Except Seraphina had also known Javier long enough to understand he would not take Dahlia’s game lightly. She glanced around Dahlia’s enormous pink and gold bedroom suite and sighed. The clutter of clothes and shoes spread about the room made it impossible to determine if the child had packed for more than just the sleepover at her friend Becka’s the night before.
Becka’s mother had already confirmed Dahlia had left their house on her scooter after dinner. The trip from Becka’s should have taken no more than twenty minutes. It had been almost an hour. And in another hour, it would be dark.
Seraphina pulled out her phone and called Dahlia’s number. She listened to it ring, then pulled the phone from her ear to see if she could hear it in the room. Nothing. She put the phone back to her ear and listened until the voice mail clicked on. “Dahlia, call me as soon as you g
et this, okay, kiddo? We’re worried about you.”
Shaking her head, she hung up and walked out of the room.
Lucinda, head of the household staff, was in the hallway, a basket of laundry balanced on one hip. She raised her brows at Seraphina. “Did you find her?”
“No. You have any luck?”
Lucinda shook her head. “None. And the groundskeepers haven’t seen her, either.” She frowned. “You want me to tell Mr. Bares?”
Seraphina sighed. “No, I’ll do it.”
Lucinda’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you. He’ll take it better coming from you. You have a way with him.”
Seraphina smiled wryly. She had a way with everyone. As the daughter of a Greek muse, being able to influence people was her stock-in-trade. And her burden. Never knowing if someone truly liked you wore on a person over time. “It’s what I do. Send Marcus out to drive every possible route Dahlia could have taken, all right?”
Lucinda nodded. “I’ll do that immediately.”
Seraphina headed down to Javier’s studio, where he was working on a new commission, an enormous piece that would earn him a nice check and a Guinness World Records title. Of course, that was exactly the point of the job. The casino that had commissioned Javier wanted something to bring people in. A gimmicky reason for them to step through the doors. Once they were inside, the slots, gaming tables and cheap drinks would do the rest.
The smell of oil paint and the soft, plaintive sounds of Peruvian pan flutes greeted her as she walked into his work space. Even this late in the day, the enormous windows and skylights flooded the studio with natural light, something Nevada had in abundance. In the distance, the Las Vegas Strip cut a hard line through the desert landscape.
The commissioned piece took up a ridiculous amount of room. She stopped beside it and crossed her arms, staring up at the expanse of stretched black velvet. He’d wavered about doing it initially, until she’d used her muse wiles to convince him. He now understood the publicity would be very good for him, even if the art was campy. “It’s coming along beautifully. You are so talented.”
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