“Your little gambling problem?”
There was a slight pause.“It’s only a problem when I’m losing.”
“Or cheating.By the way, how’d you do it?Can you tell how much a person is sweating?Or does their scent change when they’re bluffing?”
“If you don’t know, you can’t prove a damn thing,” he said firmly, abruptly standing up.“I’ve had a wonderful evening, Lia.Too bad this wasn’t it.”
“If you’re going to quote Groucho, at least get him right.And lone wolf, remember?”Where he was concerned, I wouldn’t need much proof.What little I did, his unusual lucky streak would provide.
Cyrus’ eyes were glittering, but his voice stayed level.“If you were at the game, why not arrest me there?”
“Too many norms.”
“And there aren’t any here?”
I glanced about the murky room.“I think we’re safe,” I said wryly, “unless you plan to make a—”
I turned back around to find my quarry gone and the bartender peering at the mess on the bar with a puzzled frown.I threw another twenty on the counter and headed for the back door.It led into a side street, where Cyrus was already disappearing around a corner.Damn it!
I sent a doppelganger spell after him, hoping the low light would make the misty double believable, and headed around the opposite corner to cut him off.And found myself slammed against a hard concrete wall for my trouble.“Nice try,” Cyrus breathed, “but you forget your roots.Spells don’t have a scent, Lia.”
Having Cyrus’ full attention was like being the only rabbit in the world in front of a pack of starving wolves.If I hadn’t had the wall behind me, I might even have taken a step back.Only Weres ever did this, walked right past arm’s length and set up camp inches away from my chest.I’d never gotten used to it, and it didn’t help that his knuckles were pressing against my throat.
But showing fear is the absolute worst way to negotiate with a Were.And since he hadn’t yet snapped my neck, that’s exactly what we were doing.“Would you cut it out?I’m not really planning to arrest you!”
“Why not?”The darkness had made his eyes liquid black, but I could still see the suspicion in them.“Surely not some leftover sentiment?”
“I have to find some missing girls,” I said curtly.“And I’m new here.I don’t have the contacts I did back East—”
“And you think I do?”
“You always have contacts.If you help me, I’ll forget what I saw tonight.”
Violet-blue light filtered down from a neon sign, bathing him in strange shadows.It leeched away the good-old-boy vibe, leaving the harsh planes of his face clearly visible.For a moment, I almost thought I could see the wolf staring out at me.“And if I say no?”
I flexed my shields a little, slamming him back into a nearby dumpster.I wasn’t the only one who’d forgotten who he was dealing with.“You haven’t heard what I want yet.You might even like it.”
Cyrus pried himself loose from the dumpster’s metal embrace.“If you’re involved, I doubt it.”
“Even if it could put you back in the king’s good graces?”
He scowled as I stepped out into the street to hail a cab.“What king?”
“My boss is convinced that Sebastian is the werewolf king.”
“You know damn well—”
“Yeah, but I kind of like it.I think I’ll call him ‘your majesty’ if we ever meet.See how well that goes over.”
“I can already tell you that,” he said dryly.“And what, pray tell, is a lowly grifter and a disgraced war mage supposed to do for the almighty Sebastian?”
We got in the cab, and I tossed the file onto his lap.“Save his daughter.”
* * *
“You don’t get it!IfI don’t find these girls, they could end up dead!”
We were back at his place, a seedy motel room considerably off Strip, with the buzz of traffic clearly audible from outside.It mingled with the sound of the ice machine at the end of the hall, a couple of parents screaming at their kids, and a guy with a four-pack-a-day habit coughing up his lungs somewhere nearby.Merry Christmas.
