Vegas Baby Dragon (Guardian of Mates Agency)

by Chloe Vincent

  Vegas Baby Dragon

  Guardian of Mates Agency

  Chloe Vincent

  Table Of Contents

  Prologue

  1. Jack

  2. Lucy

  3. Jack

  4. Delilah

  5. Lucy

  6. Jack

  7. Lucy

  8. Delilah

  9. Jack

  10. Lucy

  11. Jack

  12. Delilah

  13. Lucy

  14. Jack

  15. Delilah

  16. Lucy

  Epilogue

  More Paranormal Book Action!

  About the Author

  Vegas Baby Dragon

  Copyright © 2019

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. For permission requests, email Info@thereaderclub.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events, businesses, companies, institutions, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Prologue

  Angelic Dimension

  “Why does this coffee taste different?” Delilah asked, frowning into her mocha. The drink didn’t taste bad per se. In fact, even now as the combination of chocolate and coffee settled on her tongue, she thought it might have been the best mocha she’d ever tasted. But it tasted different. Almost tangy.

  “It has virtue in it,” Katz said, one of his thick dreadlocks falling over his eye. He grinned widely at Delilah before taking a sip of his own cup of espresso. “Gives it some extra flavor. It’s kind of fruity.”

  “It has virtue in it,” Delilah repeated. They were sitting in Plato’s Coffee, a pretty little Parisian style café in the metropolis of the Angelic Dimension. La Vie en Rose was playing from an automated violin that hovered in the air of their table that overlooked an imitation of The Seine and the Eiffel Tower in the distance in front of an eternal sunset. Such things were possible in the Angelic Dimension. “I’m drinking virtue?”

  “Yeah,” Katz said simply, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “In fact, it’s a very good sign that you can drink it without throwing up. If you were um...more like you were when you first got here, drinking virtue so directly would probably make you sick. You’d only be able to drink it much more diluted. Testament to how much you’ve changed.”

  “Okay,” Delilah responded, tittering slightly. She took another sip of the mocha, trying to pinpoint exactly what the virtue tasted of by itself. It was a little like raspberry, yet also smoky. Normally, she would have a wisecrack on her tongue for Katz because heaven forbid she take anything seriously. But she had felt different, especially since her last mission. She felt as if the work she was doing was important, but more than that she sometimes thought back to the evil deeds she’d committed on earth; soul-stealing, murder - and those were just a couple. She didn’t like remembering her human life, as grateful as she was for the chance to earn redemption now by matching souls together in the bond of true love. But lately, those memories had been haunting her.

  “You advanced a lot in your last mission,” Katz said, a proud grin on his face. “You were given an order and you refused to follow it.”

  “And that was good?” Delilah asked, rubbing her eyes. She was trying to not think of those memories now. They got in the way of clear thinking.

  “It is when you know the orders are wrong,” Katz said. “You wanted to help those people. We do try not to intrude too directly to keep ourselves hidden. But there was no way around it. They would have died without your help and you helped them anyway, even when I told you not to. Just because it was the right thing. Good job.”

  “Thanks,” Delilah murmured. She stared off at the fake Eiffel Tower against the peachy horizon and sighed, sipping her virtuous mocha.

  “Hey,” Katz said, nudging her hand on the table. “What’s the matter?”

  “I don’t know,” Delilah replied, feeling a little embarrassed. “I’ve just been thinking about my old human life on earth lately and the things I did. I just…” She swallowed. “Once I lured a bunch of young women into the clutches of a vampire gang. They were all seduced and became vampires and sold their souls.”

  “I know your record,” Katz told her softly. “I’ve seen it. All the things you’ve done.”

  “So you know how bad it is,” Delilah said, leaning on her hand. “Maybe I don’t deserve redemption.”

  “The fact that you think that,” Katz said, “makes me think that you do. And that you’re earning it right now. I think it’s good that you’re reckoning with your past. But don’t wallow in it. Just focus on your missions, on the good you can do now. Redemption isn’t just for you; it’s for the people you can help as you gain it.”

  “Hmm.” Delilah nodded and held up her mocha, tipping it toward the Angelic Agent. “Very wise, Katz.”

  “I like seeing you thoughtful like this.” Katz leaned forward on the table and his gaze was soft, his big brown eyes glittering under the faux sunset. “It’s a good look on you. Brings out your eyes.”

  Delilah blushed and her heart fluttered. She hated to admit it, but she had quite a crush on Katz, the Angelic Agent whose job it was to supervise and observe her missions and to keep her on track for earning her redemption under the purview of the Angelic Dimensions’s Council of Three, the exclusive little group that overlooked all life on earth.

  “Whatever,” Delilah said, stifling a smile. “I’m actually kinda edgy for my next mission. Guess I’m really used to it now. I want to get out there. Plus, it’s nice hanging out on earth sometimes. Guess it’s nicer when I know I can come back.”

  “About your next mission,” Katz said, smirking a little as he sat back in his chair. He whipped out his tablet, seemingly from the air and set it on the table. “The Council of Three is busy-”

  “Busy!” Delilah blurted, feeling just a little offended. She had received all of her mission straight from the Council. That they suddenly didn’t have time to meet with her seemed a shade rude.

  “Trust me,” Katz said, “you should take it as a compliment. It means you’re doing well. Anyway, I have the dossier for the next mission. I should warn you, it’s a little...unorthodox.”

  “I feel like you say that every time.” Delilah rolled her eyes. But she was smiling despite herself as she took the tablet and looked over the basic facts of the case.

  “Jack Damon. A dragon shifter hotel and casino owner in Las Vegas,” Delilah read out, now recalling that Katz had mentioned as much when she returned from her last mission. “And a showgirl named Lucy. Well, that’s kind of cute.”

  “She hates his guts,” Katz said wryly, knocking back the rest of his coffee. Also, his friend is mixed up with the mob. We don’t think it’s going to end well. But you have no control over that.”

  “Okay…” Delilah cast him a wary gaze. “Unorthodox, huh?”

  “You might have to bend the rules of morality and ethics,” Katz said, shrugging. “For the good of the match. But it’s for the best. Besides, there’s a baby involved.”

  “A baby?” Delilah said, narrowing her eyes.

  “Well…” Katz cleared his throat, throwing up his hands. “There’s an egg anyway.”

  1

  Jack

&nbs
p; The constant clanging and whirrs and buzzes of the slot machines were sharp in Jack’s ears but he liked that. The cigarette smoke was stifling and even that was a kind of comfort. Having grown up among casinos in Las Vegas, Jack felt at home here on the floor among the slots and Black Jack and roulette. He straightened his suit jacket and caught his reflection in the slide of a slot, smoothing back his hair. His hotel and casino, Jack’s Joker, sat near the end of the strip. It was sleek, shiny, and huge. It was a sprawling complex of silver that gleamed in the Vegas sun and it was the source of Jack’s wealth. Having inherited the family casino business from his father, Jack had played the game as well as he played poker, he’d lasted this long and expanded and built up. Now he owned one of the more popular establishments on the strip. Outside of Vegas his place wasn’t as well known as The Bellagio or The Venitian, but it was getting there. It would be the place eventually, if Jack had his way. As long as he could keep playing the game as well as he always had.

  A slot’s siren went off and lights flashed. A lady in a cowboy hat shrieked and clapped her hands and held her bucket under the slot as coins came flooding out.

  “Congratulations, ma’am,” Jack said smoothly, leaning on her machine. She beamed up at him as she filled her bucket. “You know where to change your chips?”

  “Oh-”

  “Right over there,” Jack said, pointing to the booth. He took a card from his pocket and handed it over. “Please accept this complimentary champagne brunch ticket.” He tossed her a wink and saw her blush. “Thanks for playing with us today.”

  With luck, the lady would put her winnings right back into the casino via some higher ball game like Black Jack. That was usually how things went. But she was having a good time now, that was for sure.

  Everything seemed smooth on the floor and Jack signaled a cocktail waitress to bring his usual; a finger of the good malt whiskey they kept behind the bar just for him. Jack took his drink and made his way across the floor, heading back to his penthouse on the top floor of his hotel. He had a sprawling mansion on the fringes of Las Vegas, but he spent more than half of his time in the penthouse. It was also the place VIPs and other significant types liked to hang out. Nobody wanted to go all the way to an actual house off the strip. A penthouse was much cooler.

  At the wide doorway of the Cypress Stage, Jack heard an argument going on between his stage manager, Louis and one of the showgirls. He peeked in. The stage was empty now between shows but a few people lingered at tables, drinking. Meanwhile, a showgirl was arguing with her manager. Jack had seen her before. She always stood out with her bright blue eyes and a mass of blonde curls. She was wearing her costume; her breasts shoved up by the golden corset that slimmed her, her curvy thighs on display beneath fishnet. She held a hand on her hip and tapped her booted foot, her heavily made-up eyes glaring at Louis.

  “I don’t care if it’s a new policy,” Lucy said. “I was hired under the old policy which is that I don’t share tips. If a customer tips me, he’s tipping me, not everyone else. I’m not asking for a piece of everyone else’s tips-”

  “There a problem here?” Jack loomed over them. He was six-foot-three and he took his work stress out on his home gym. He was built and he had severe green eyes and a shock of black hair as he stared down the two employees now arguing right in front of a bunch of paying customers.

  “No, Mr. Damon,” Louis said quickly. “Just, uh, discussing-”

  “Discussing your dumbass new tipping policy!” Lucy said, her eyes fiery as she turned to glare at Jack. “I’m not a waitress, I’m a dancer and I want my tips.”

  “The dancers in the second row barely ever get tipped,” Jack said flatly, not even bothering to react to Lucy’s ire. There were plenty of showgirls in Vegas who wanted a job. Lucy was a good dancer, but she wasn’t special. “Nobody sees their faces. Didn’t you used to be in the back row?”

  Lucy rolled her eyes and nodded. “Yes. So what?”

  He hadn’t needed to ask. He’d noticed her before. He thought she was striking. Her eyes were almost disproportionately large, but she was quite beautiful. Even now it was almost intimidating to look at her, especially with all that make-up on that only enhanced her astonishing features. Her cheekbones were high and sharp. She looked like an old-fashioned model more than a dancer really. But he’d seen her dance. She was good. Still, she wasn’t worth much trouble. Not to him. She wouldn’t be difficult to replace.

  “So…” Jack raised an eyebrow and took another sip of whiskey. “You really think customers are tipping you specifically? You’re one in a line, just like the rest of them. If you were a featured solo dancer, it would be different. You’re not special. You’re all the same. So share the tips and spread the wealth.”

  “I’m sorry, I thought you were a capitalist,” Lucy said darkly, not looking even remotely hurt. “Not a communist.”

  “I’m the maker of the means of production, baby,” Jack whispered, glaring daggers at the difficult showgirl. “And if you don’t fall in line and kick your legs and smile and share your tips like I’m telling you, I’ll find another girl off the bus from Wisconsin who will.” He nodded at. Louis and said, “And if I see a tiff like this happening in front of the customers again, Louis, then you’re out too. Every employee here is a happy employee. Got it?”

  “Yes, Mr. Damon!” Louis said. He ducked his head and hunched over in something like a bow and Jack winced. Sometimes the way his employees kissed his ass got to be a bit much, Jack thought. As annoying as this showgirl Lucy was, he respected her spunk.

  “Whatever,” Lucy grumbled now and flounced off through the lounge and past the stage to the dressing room beyond.

  Jack chuckled and shook his head. “Okay,” he said. “Back to work then.” Louis nodded and skittered off.

  Jack was looked at like a hardass. He didn’t think of himself that way really. He worked his people hard, but he paid fairly and he worked just as hard as they did, he thought. Anyway, he’d built up this place to be what it was. He thought he’d earned a measure of respect and deference.

  In the elevator, he sighed and leaned against the back wall. The busy season was starting up. Vegas was about to turn hot as hell and that meant the casinos and hotels would fill up with people who somehow still thought it was a great idea to visit the scalding desert and summer which, he supposed, it was. As long as the air conditioning was still working. He sipped his whiskey and checked his phone, groaning at the number of texts and voicemails all demanding his attention.

  “Huh…”

  He had several texts from his best friend, Sean. They were vague but somewhat panicked sounding. Sean really wanted to talk to him. That was a little strange. Sean was his oldest friend from all the way back in high school. He’d worked for Jack’s Joker for a while before changing his mind and going on to something else. They didn’t get to see each other nearly as often as they used to, but Jack still considered him to be just as close as always. Sean was as close to a brother as Jack had ever had. He was also a dragon shifter. It was what had brought them together. They hadn’t known any other dragon shifters in Vegas, or at least none that were native. The two of them had been thick as thieves once. Even now, Jack admitted to himself, he would do anything for Sean. They’d cried on each other’s shoulders over this or that over the years, talked each other through break-ups and generally had each other’s backs. It had been several months since Jack had heard so much as heard a peep out of him though. He didn’t even know now what Sean was doing with himself. Staying out of trouble, Jack hoped.

  The elevator dinged and Jack stepped out into his penthouse. The place was sprawling and glassy, decked out with all the luxuries and amenities that any high roller would demand at a five-star hotel on the strip. The decor was a little gaudy for Jack’s own tastes, in purples and neons. But he’d never bothered to redecorate his own place to differentiate it from how the rest of the penthouses were laid out.

  Jack took off his jacket and hung it on
a rack, rubbing his eyes before he plopped down on the giant velvet couch in front of the flatscreen. He had some vendors to call. There were a few people raising prices and giving him the runaround. There was also his expansion team who wanted to talk about the plans to open a second hotel in Atlantic City. There were VIPs who wanted to hang out with him. He’d get to it. But there had been a few long and busy days lately. He needed just a minute to relax. He kicked off his shoes and found his eyelids drooping and just as quickly, his phone buzzed again.

  Jack sighed and picked up, letting his eyes slip shut as he held the phone to his ear. “Yeah?” His voice sounded raspy and tired, even to him.

  “Jack!” It was Sean on the phone. He sounded as legitimately panicked as his texts. “Jack, it’s me-”

  “Sean.” Jack sat forward on the couch and rubbed the back of his neck. “Man, what’s going on? I’m sorry I couldn’t get back to you yet. You know how it is.”

  “That’s fine, that’s fine,” Sean said, sounding rushed. Jack heard the unmistakable hubbub of the strip in the background. It sounded like Jack was on the sidewalk somewhere crowded. “I just need to see you. It’s urgent. Where are you?”

  “Sure, man,” Jack said, worry roiling his stomach. “I’m at the penthouse. You know I’m always here for you. Whatever you need. You okay?”

  “I’ll explain when I get there,” Sean said darkly. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “You’re not in immediate danger, are you?” Jack asked, getting to his feet again.