Page 36

I pressed a finger to his lips. “I get to choose this time. Not you. But first,” I glanced at the dress on the bed. “Apparently, we have a party to crash so we can get my DNA back.”

Chapter Thirteen

So Many Ways to Tango

Julian filled me in on the plan. Turned out, when I was put to sleep in the rideshare, they’d driven me to a lab outside Phoenix. Then Julian ran us all the way to Las Vegas when we left.

Tonight’s event was a gala at the top of a new resort with a rotating roof in honor of blood cancer research. According to Julian, many of the high-level donors were supes, and the “blood cancer research” was a ruse for funneling money to various labs that focused on, well, exactly what I’d tried and succeeded in doing—creating a cure for vampirism. All that money and not one of them had managed it yet.

When I asked about it, Julian explained that most of them used the funds for other supe research and masked it as though searching for a cure. A double crime. Thus, the big players behind the psychic research would be present. The danger in this situation was the possibility that Silas would show. But Julian doubted it since he had a new job on the island and would want to appear benevolent to SHADE while focused on his pursuits there.

We were after the major in this case. For the plan to work, first, I had to look like yet a third woman—not me and not what Zoe’s charm had created. So Julian ran out—literally—to get me a bottle of blonde dye and quite a bit of makeup. As I went to work on myself, he left on another errand, which made me insanely nervous and took far too long even with his super speed.

But when he returned safely from the Phoenix lab with my belt and a fistful of loaded syringes, I breathed easier. We needed the suppressant if we wanted this to work. I slipped it all in my belt, tucked my anti-glamour charm in my cleavage, and shuffled in the endless compartment until I found the charm I’d been searching for. I squeezed the tiny bead of pink, invoked the spell with the word “shrink” and watched the belt grow smaller. When it was done, I fastened it around my upper thigh like a garter just above the slit in the gown, then slipped on my heels.

“You are breathtaking,” Julian said, reaching for me. “But I prefer the red hair.”

“Can’t be helped, but good to know,” I said. I’d left my blonde hair loose and let it cascade over my bare shoulders. The ruby glinted along with the diamonds around my neck, and I tugged at it. “Is this what I think it is?” I asked.

“It is spelled to resist potions and charms,” Julian said. “I have a contact who runs a supe resale shop in the area.”

I fluttered my ridiculously long fake eyelashes at him and pursed my dark red lips. I felt like a hooker in this getup. It was way more glitz and skin than I was used to showing. I tended to prefer staying out of the spotlight. But tonight was about getting all eyes on Julian and his mystery woman. The major had to be thrown off-kilter for our plan to work. And she ought to be completely gobsmacked when she set eyes on the vampire who’d escaped parading around Vegas with a different woman.

“When all of this is over, and we are somewhere safe, I will be taking you dancing in Paris. And you will wear what you choose.”

“Once Silas and the major are no longer threats, and we’ve safely recovered the missing children,” I agreed.

With that, I took Julian’s arm and we headed to the lobby.

Every eye was on us, and though I was sure Julian was used to it, I was not. Still, I had to play a part, so I focused on ogling my escort instead of the crowd as he led me out to the valet. I was only slightly surprised to see the vamp mobile pull up to the massive fountain in front.

Julian drove with one hand clutching mine. When we arrived, the front of the resort was roped off. We were escorted into the building and to an enormous glass elevator—destination: twenty-seven stories to the top.

Julian spoke to my mind as I clung to him.

Are you nervous?

I answered in the same fashion.

Only about the attention part.

He chuckled and led—no, paraded me—out of the lift and onto the rooftop filled with glamorous people. Sleek neon lighting surrounded the edges with a bar that took up the entire side of the rectangle. The dance floor was in the center of a smattering of standing tables. A five-piece band was set up on a raised platform, lit from below with more glowing neon that slowly changed colors from green to blue to purple to red.

“Lieutenant Julian Carver,” announced a man by the lit shallow steps leading down from the elevator platform.

A few people glanced up, but for the most part, the black-tie affair continued without much notice.

I don’t see her, I said silently, arm still hooked through his.

She will be here.

“May I get you a drink?” Julian offered.

I nodded and he steered us to the bar where he ordered a glowing blue martini for me and a shot of something clear for himself. I tipped the rim to my lips as I perused the room. I probably shouldn’t have been drinking but I needed a little something to take the edge off.

“Lieutenant!” A deep, boisterous voice greeted.

I turned to find a large, older man approaching, hand held out for Julian’s. A woman I assumed to be his wife narrowed her eyes at me and smiled with lips filled with Botox. Poor thing had gone overboard with the plastic surgery. When her companion’s gaze slid to me—or more accurately, my cleavage—I understood why.