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CHAPTER3
He was out there again.
Polly Benson didn’t see him. Peering through her bedroom window, there was no sign of him on the building opposite of her. Didn’t matter. He was out there, and it was time she did something about it.
At first, she was convinced that the sexy angel who let her off with barely a warning was following her because he realized he made a mistake. That he was just waiting for her to target the wrong mark before he swooped in and retaliated for her choosing the House of Sin casino that fateful night a month ago.
She hadn’t been kidding when she said that she’d risked stealing from the faction-based casino because she was looking for a challenge. Ever since she’d been forced to take care of herself at the tender age of fifteen, she knew she had two choices: the brothels or the Strip. She could sell herself or take what she wanted; a fresh-faced Polly decided to use her youthfulness to her advantage, choosing to learn how to pickpocket from a gang of street kids who thought she was maybe twelve at the time.
Now, nearly twenty years later, Polly had more than enough to make do. She had an apartment on the outskirts of the city, an in with the factions that ruled over Las Vegas, and was the thief that everyone in her circle approached when they had a job that needed to be done. She’d turned a survivor skill into a career, and could afford to be choosy these days.
It never served to grow rusty, though. Using faction beings—the paranormal races that were an open secret in the so-called City of Sin—as practice, she often entertained herself by picking their pockets. Why not? Most of the immortal factions were wealthy, and she’d also meant it when she said they could afford to lose whatever she took. Plus, the factions had their own laws. Human police weren’t a concern when it came to the factions, and a place without cops was a place where Polly wanted to be.
She paid her rent alone with pocket change from just a few immortal marks, whether she found them at the Twilight Nights club, the lobby of the Twilight Sphere hotel, or the fast-paced Twilight Bar and Grille.
Humans were always underestimated in the City of Sin. A human thief? Even more so. That vampire might’ve gotten lucky, catching her with her hand in his back pocket that night, but considering she’d hit the House of Sin twice a week for more than four months, it was a rarity. A one-off. And though the vampire called for her blood, she had wriggled out of worse situations than that.
Then again, she had her newfound guardian angel to thank for that.
Because that was exactly who had started shadowing her in the weeks since she escaped the House of Sin with her skin and her blood intact.
He’d introduced himself as Samael. With his black eyes, dark brown hair, tanned skin, and devilishly handsome expression, she’d been immediately struck by how much she was attracted to him—and not only because Polly had a thing for tall, dark, and handsome. He’d exuded wealth and power and a hint of danger that was pure catnip to someone like her.
His aura and appearance made sense, too. After she slipped out of the casino—no one stopped her, probably because the angel prince gave the order that she was a free woman—she went straight to the Twilight Café inside of the hotel.
With the right amount of money, one of the coven witches would be willing to share her magic with even a human thief. In between managing the café and cracking jokes, Hilda whipped up a few protective talismans and warding spells just in case the night’s events came back to bite Polly in her formidably-sized ass.
Especially since Hilda’s big blue eyes seemed to widen in surprise when Polly admitted she was hoping to avoid Samael, the middle angel prince.
Hilda had a working relationship with the Angels of Sin City. Because their celestial auras had a tendency to short out anything that wasn’t especially warded for them, they paid Hilda well to keep their business running, and their phones and computers operating. She knew exactly who Sam was, and in a hushed voice asked Polly what in the goddess’s name did she do to piss off an angel of death.
Because that’s what he was. One of the Fallen who used to serve as an angel of death before he tried to rehab his image by calling himself a guardian angel.
A guardian angel… one of them would’ve come in handy when she was a kid. Even now, the idea of having that striking angel looking out for her had Polly getting all hot and bothered.
But an angel of death?
If Death had his sights on her, it didn’t matter how sexy he was or how he made her shiver when his deep voice promised there would be a next time. She’d made it thirty-four years without truly crossing one of the factions, and even if that pissed-off vampire had threatened her neck, that was still better than catching the attention of Death.
Wasn’t it?
That’s what Polly thought… until Hilda’s protective spells didn’t do a damn thing.
Oh, maybe they saved her from the vampire’s revenge. The spell healed up her wrist right away, and when she bumped into the bloodsucker a few days later, his red eyes slid over her as if he didn’t see her. But, by then, she’d already noticed the dark shadow lurking like some kind of oversized gargoyle on the building across from hers.
Add that to the glimpse of white wings she thought she spied every now and then against the black clouds at night and she was sure of it.
She might have purposely avoided going anywhere near the House of Sin, but one of its owners definitely wasn’t avoiding her.
The first couple of weeks, she tried to keep a low profile. She hadn’t had a gig in a while, and hot on the heels of getting caught at House of Sin, Polly acted as if she didn’t sense him out there even when she could. It was like an itch she couldn’t scratch, an unsettling feeling like someone’s eyes were always on her. She didn’t sense any malice or ill will, but that just left her more confused and determined to pretend she didn’t notice him following her constantly.
Was he some self-styled detective, waiting for her to slip up? Or was he, like Hilda suggested, Death on the hunt?
Was it possible that he was as selfless as he seemed to be?
After some pointed questions to her contacts among the factions, she learned that the middle prince really did go around Las Vegas, doing good deeds for the hell of it. He did it because he wanted to shed his dark image, and if his cunning older brother cashed in on the favors he garnered, Polly respected that.
Did that mean she believed he was actually playing Batman without some ulterior motive? Considering she was an atheist who only believed in looking out for herself, the answer to that was a resounding no. He had to have a motive. Everyone did.
