The Supernaturals of Las Vegas Books 1-4

by Carrie Harris

  They descended upon her as one.

  Chapter 10

  Derek held the back door of The Grateful Head open, ushering out the crying, shaking employees. Although they were clearly terrified by the behavior of the officers inside the shop, he thought they were doing an admirable job of holding it together. When he’d held his finger to his lips, they’d quieted. When he’d gestured toward the back of the building, they’d followed. No needless hysterics or stubborn argument. He’d come to the rescue, and they were more than happy to be saved.

  Of course, some of that probably had to do with Hex. She’d led the way with her head held high, and her obvious trust in Derek had done more to establish his credentials than anything he could have said or done himself. Now, she was ushering the three guys and one girl into the SUV while he carefully shut the door behind them. It wouldn’t deter the police once they figured out that the employees had gone, but at least they wouldn’t be prematurely alerted by a stray breeze from the back room.

  From the little he’d seen, Citrine was keeping them plenty busy. He could have watched her fight all day, except that it wouldn’t be gentlemanly to sit on the sidelines when she was so obviously outnumbered. But the uneven odds didn’t seem to make a difference. She was so fast, so strong. He wanted nothing more than to turn around, march back into that building, and help her. But at the end of the day, he knew deep in his heart that she didn’t need the help. Not when it came to battle, and that was what he was best at.

  It was a tough thing to think about. Luckily, he didn’t have the time to dwell. He had to get these employees to safety. Citrine had made him promise to protect Hex, and he’d agreed, but only if he could come back for her once the innocents were safely out of harm’s way. He slid into the driver’s seat, slammed the car into reverse, and took a look in the rear view mirror. The pierced and tattooed faces in the back seat watched his every movement with wide, shocky eyes. He hoped they weren’t going to burst into tears once he got them out of there, but he couldn’t exactly blame them if they did. The unhinged behavior of the cops weirded him out, and he understood it.

  If Ben could take over the minds of the police that easily, what else could he do? And if the king was that much powerful than Ben? He shuddered just thinking about the possibilities.

  He swung the car out onto the street, resisting the urge to speed away and possibly attract unwanted attention. His wolf surged under his skin, wanting to attack the interlopers and protect his friends. To protect Citrine, who might just be more than that. More than anyone had ever been to him. The thought of losing her before he managed to untangle his feelings made it difficult to keep the beast inside. Funny how he knew she was more than capable of taking care of herself, but his wolf didn’t seem to feel that way at all.

  The further he drove, the edgier he got. If he didn’t distract himself, he’d lose it entirely. His wolf would take over, and although he maintained his intelligence and awareness in his werewolf form, his wolf got stronger then. Sometimes it was a war between what he knew he needed to do and what his instincts told him. Sometimes the wolf won.

  His eyes flicked over to Hex, sitting in the passenger seat in a stiff, brittle position that suggested exactly how close she was to panicking herself. Another glance into the rearview mirror was enough to know that his passengers were even worse off. Tears tracked across cheeks, and one fellow was staring out the window with his arms wrapped around himself, shaking like a leaf.

  Here was something he could do. Something he had promised to do. Citrine would expect him to keep his word, and he wouldn’t disappoint her. He wasn’t going to drop these people off and expect them to deal with the problem on their own. Their place of business had just been ransacked by the very people who were supposed to protect them. That kind of trauma could really mess them up if he didn’t do something to help.

  As soon as he realized this, his wolf quieted. It understood the need to take care of the weak. That was what wolves did.

  “I think we need ice cream,” he declared, swinging abruptly into the right hand lane and cutting off a Camaro. The driver swerved and honked, but he didn’t care. There was an ice cream shop on the corner, and he didn’t want to have to turn around and go back to it.

  “Are you nuts?” demanded Hex. “It’s…early. And…weird,” she finished lamely.

  “After a traumatic experience like that, I think we all deserve a treat. You can think I’m crazy for that if you want to.”

  “I was thinking I’d have a beer or seven when I got home,” said the shaking guy. “But this is probably a smarter choice.”

  “My grandma used to take me here for slushies when I had a bad day,” put in the girl. “Today sure fits that bill.”

  Hex turned around to look at her coworkers in the back seat, then nodded to Derek. It felt like the tension in the air was slowly clearing, and they all relaxed at the thought of having a treat after surviving such a rough experience. He’d done the same thing whenever he’d encountered a kid on one of his cases, but he’d never had a chance to use the technique on a truckload of adults before.

  Still, if it worked, he wasn’t going to question it. He went through the drive through, and before long, he pulled back out onto the street and into traffic as he sucked down a root beer float.

  “So what the hell happened back there?” asked the shaking guy. Except that he was no longer shaking. He was too busy eating a hot fudge sundae.

  “Yeah, those cops were totally gonzo,” said the girl.

  This was going to be tough to justify. He couldn’t exactly explain that the cops couldn’t be blamed for their behavior because of a little faerie mind control. But the first excuse that came to mind—drugs gone bad—wasn’t any better. He didn’t want to make the situation any worse, or make all of Hex’s coworkers completely mistrust law enforcement from here on out. He’d worked with a lot of cops in his day, and they were just like everybody else. Some good, some bad, and some extremely one or the other.

  He gaped for a moment before the perfect excuse came to mind. “They weren’t really cops,” he said. “I’m going to explain a bit to you, but I can’t tell you all the details. I’m a private investigator, you see? Hex knows me, she can vouch for my credentials.”

  Hex promptly turned around in her seat so they could see how serious she was when she said, “He can be trusted.”

  “Thanks,” he said dryly. “Anyway, I’ve been tracking down this group of lowlifes who think it’s funny to impersonate cops. They buy decommissioned cop cars and make them look like the real thing. Then they commit crimes with them.”

  “Bastards,” said the girl.

  “I haven’t seen anything about it on the news,” said the not-shaking guy, frowning.

  “They’re relatively new,” said Derek, thinking fast. “Plus, I’ve been trying to keep it out of the news. I’m really close to catching them, and I don’t like the idea that people won’t trust the real cops in an emergency. That could be dangerous, if you get what I’m saying.”

  After a thoughtful pause, the guy said, “Yeah, I guess. But who’s going to put my store back together?”

  “My cousin’s a contractor,” said Hex. “He can fix the shelves no problem.”

  “And I could probably replace whatever stock you lost as a part of my budget,” offered Derek. “I’m being paid to bring these guys down quietly.”

  He meant it, too. The supernatural community had put together a fund for things like this where normal folks were caught in the crossfire of a superhuman fight, to help keep the injured parties happy and silent. This was exactly the kind of thing the fund was made for.

  “How do we do that? Get reimbursed, I mean,” asked the guy. Derek figured he must be the owner or manager. No wonder he’d been so shaken. Ultimately, he’d felt responsible for the people in his employ along with the contents of the shop.

  “I can hook you up,” said Hex. “No problem.”

  “Cool.” The manager sat back
in his seat, then thought better of it and leaned forward again. “When? We’re losing money with every minute we’re closed. Maybe I should contact the insurance company…”

  Derek and Hex exchanged a look. That was the last thing they needed. Insurance companies asked too many questions, and they’d contact the Las Vegas PD, and it would get worse from there. The supernatural community had a standing policy to keep the authorities out of everything they possibly could. Mark had been particularly good at it, and since his death, Derek had done his best.

  “You can if you want, man,” said Derek, “but maybe you can wait an hour while we see if my partner managed to apprehend them.”

  “Your partner? That badass chick with the kung fu moves?”

  “That’s the one,” said Derek, trying not to grin. “She could take them all with one hand tied behind her back.”

  “If I hadn’t seen it myself, I’d doubt you. But yeah. She fights MMA or something?” asked the guy admiringly.

  “Something like that.”

  “Ah. So you’ll call me once she has ‘em all?” the manager frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe I should still call insurance just to be safe.”

  “You’ll get the money from my client quicker than you will from insurance. Those stingy bastards will drag their feet as long as they possibly can, if my experience is any indication.”

  “An hour? Okay, I could do that. If I could skip all that insurance paperwork and the premiums going up and all that shit, I wouldn’t complain. You don’t have a lot of paperwork for me to fill out, do you?”

  “Nah. I hate paperwork too. One sheet, short and sweet,” said Derek.

  “Golden.”

  The manager went back to his sundae, and Derek heaved a sigh of relief. He dropped the fellow off at his home with promises to call within the hour. The rest of the drop-offs went quickly. It amazed him how something as simple as ice cream could make a traumatic experience so easy to swallow.

  Once the last employee was out of the SUV and into his trailer, Derek looked at Hex.

  “Can you give Darius a call?” he asked. “I’d like to drop by.”

  She nodded, already picking up her phone. “I’m on it. We’re not going back for Citrine?”

  “Not until we tell somebody. That way, if we go missing, the city’s covered. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one. Mark always used to tell me that, and I hated it, but I can’t deny it.”

  “Okay,” said Hex reluctantly. “But if Citrine gets hurt, I’m going to bust some skulls. I don’t care if I’m a full shifter or not.”

  “I’ll be right there with you, sister.”

  She grinned at him and dialed the phone.

  Darius was working on a job site on the outskirts of town, building a fancy mansion that backed onto pristine desert. The still-unfinished building loomed over the barren landscape. Derek could tell it would be beautiful when it was done, full of graceful lines and the tiny details that separate a work of architecture from a tract house. Hex goggled outright as they pulled up the long, winding driveway and parked well out of the way of the construction vehicles clustered alongside the east end of the house.

  Darius was easy to spot. A mountain of a man, he looked like he was sculpted from slabs of muscle. Derek wasn’t a small guy, but Darius had always made him feel like one. The contractor had to be at least 6’8”, with a neck as wide around as Derek’s thigh. He had a shiny bald head, deep brown eyes, and a rare but blinding smile. Darius was a quiet sort who preferred not to get involved in drama, but when things got particularly bad, he would show up, turn into a giant scorpion thing, and smash bad guys into putty.

  When he spotted Derek and Hex, he said a few last words to the men in hardhats clustered around him and then sent them off to work. Then he turned toward them, his long strides churning up the ground between them.

  “Helena,” he said in his deep bass voice. “Are you keeping out of trouble?”

  “Never,” she responded in saucy tones. “Would you honestly expect me to?”

  “Honestly, not so much.”

  Darius thrust a hand out to Derek but gripped it in a restrained manner, careful not to crush.

  “Sorry to interrupt you, but it’s important,” said Derek.

  “Let’s talk over near the cars,” said Darius, gesturing.

  Derek summarized the situation as succinctly as he could from the initial appearance of the fae to the episode with the ensorcelled police, pausing only to answer the few questions that Darius interjected. He left nothing out, not even his mistakes in judgement about Ben. Ben and the king posed a very real threat to some of the shifterkin, not to mention the people of Las Vegas, and he wouldn’t let his ego stand in the way of keeping them safe.

  At the end of the story, he concluded with, “Like I said, sorry to bug you with this, but if something goes sideways and Citrine and I both fall, I wanted someone else to know what was going on. With the pack gone, you were my next best choice. You still have all my passwords and keys, right?”

  Darius nodded slowly. After a few moments, he said, “You want to have Hex and Jenny come stay with me? I’ll call in the rest of the shifterkin in town too. Watch over them, just in case.”

  Derek felt a weight lift from his shoulders that he hadn’t even realized was there. “That would set my mind at ease, if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind.” Darius’s face broke out into one of his rare smiles. “Especially if Jenny bakes me an apple crisp like she did last time.”

  “I’ll make sure to pass that along.”

  Derek stuck out his hand for a shake, and Darius gripped it firmly.

  “You take care, man,” he said.

  “I will.”

  Darius turned to look at Hex, who had remained uncharacteristically silent during the exchange. Although she sometimes had a blatant disregard for proprieties, even she could tell how serious this situation could get.

  Or maybe not. She favored her cousin Darius with a blinding smile. “So we’re having a sleepover at your house?” She asked. “Can we have pillow fights too?”

  Darius shot a long-suffering look at Derek before he responded.

  “Only if I can hit you with a pillow first, Helena. You in?” he rumbled.

  “Never mind,” said Hex hastily.

  Derek didn’t stick around to see the results of that little power struggle. Now that all of the shifterkin were taken care of, he could go back for Citrine. He didn’t want to waste another minute, even though he knew that whatever had gone down had likely concluded a long time ago. She might need help. Or she might be wondering where he was. Or she might be completely content and safe, but it sure would make him feel better to know it. He had to concede that the last option was the most likely.

  He made it back to The Grateful Head in record time, but the cop cars were gone from the parking lot. It made sense to look anyway; perhaps Citrine had evaded them somehow and was hiding somewhere inside. The front door was locked, and when he peered through the glass, he saw no signs of her. Of course, it would have been tough to spot her in all that mess. Only a single shelving unit still stood, and based on the way it listed to one side, it might give up the fight at any moment.

  She didn’t answer to his knock, so that was a wash too. It took him a moment to look up the closest police station. He found it tough to believe that she would have been overpowered by those yahoos, even with their numbers advantage. But he couldn’t think of where else to look. Panic churned in his belly, and his wolf felt like it was pacing beneath his skin. It would destroy anyone who hurt her. Maybe he hadn’t entirely made up his mind about his feelings, but his wolf sure had.

  It looked like Citrine might have been taken to one of two stations. The shop sat right in the middle, and although he could have taken a look at the jurisdiction map to figure it out, he didn’t have the patience. It would be quicker to drive by them both. The first was a wash—he knew the officer at the front desk and so he didn’t even need t
o give the story he’d concocted about a case in progress. Philips confirmed that no one matching Citrine’s description was in the holding cells and even offered to let him look. Derek refused the offer with as much politeness as he could manage.

  As he pulled into the second station, Citrine came strolling out from behind the building with a smile on her face and the beginnings of a nice shiner already surfacing around her eye. He threw the car into park next to her and leaped out, unsure of what he meant to do. The urge to yell at her for scaring the crap out of him was strong, but he settled for wrapping her up into a tight hug and whispering in her ear.

  “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  Chapter 11

  Citrine managed to tuck the wand back into her boot moments before Derek crushed her in a hug. She almost laughed at him. His borderline panic didn’t make much sense when he knew she carried a wand that could get her out of anything. Even jail, which seemed to be the human version of the dungeons only with slightly fewer rats. Maybe the prisoners had eaten them. She didn’t know and didn’t stay long enough to find out.

  But saying something would mean he’d pull back. Let her go. And she was enjoying the spicy smell of him, and the hard press of his muscles against her face, and the warmth of his body pressed against her. So she didn’t say a word.

  Sadly, it couldn’t last forever. He let her go and ushered her to the SUV. Helped boost her into the seat with his warm, rough hands. Shut the door gently behind her and walked around to the other side.

  When he got into the car, he was blushing.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “I was all worried about you. It’s ridiculous. I’ve seen what you can do. And now all of the questions that I want to ask are just as stupid. I don’t know what to say.”

  He ran a hand over his sandy hair, not looking at her.

  “What?” she teased. “You mean to tell me you’ve never met a three-quarter faerie, one quarter human who was imprisoned by her evil stepfather—who also happened to be a king—and forced to fight daily in the arena for her life? Aren’t those common around here?”