The Supernaturals of Las Vegas Books 1-4

by Carrie Harris

  She grinned. “Yes, I know you’re not who you claim to be. But I don’t care. You’re my Vincent, and that is enough for me.”

  He felt strangely compelled to explain himself. Although maybe it wasn’t strange at all to admit that he cared what she thought.

  “I don’t know who I am,” he said. “I have amnesia. No memory of my identity at all. I’m sorry I lied to you, but I didn’t know what else to say, and I needed the job.”

  She considered this explanation quietly, and then nodded. “Yes, I can see that. And I knew you’d say something eventually. But if I’m going to die, I’d like to know before I go. I’ve been curious.”

  “You’re not going to die,” he reassured her.

  “Everyone does sometime,” she said. “Can you do something for me?”

  “Anything,” he said readily. “What do you need? Stuff from home? Should I feed your cat?”

  “Didn’t I tell you? That rat bastard took off on me!” Her heart rate sped up a little again. “I even started buying him the expensive cat food. He’s probably off chasing tail somewhere.”

  “Well, I can pick up the mail and see if he’s back. Or if you have pictures, I could make missing cat posters for you.”

  “You’ll have your hands full looking after the restaurant,” she said. “I hate to say this, but I think you need to call Lo.”

  “Your son? I was already planning on it. He deserves to know that you’re sick. Maybe he’ll find the time to come see you. I know he’s busy, but…I’ll make sure he understands that it’s important.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t care if he comes to see me or not. I’m not stupid. I know he makes excuses to avoid seeing me. Even for holidays! You’re more of a son to me than he is. I’m lucky to have you.”

  He took her hand. “Me too. Especially since… you know. I don’t remember my family. If I even have one. You’d think if I did, they’d be looking for me, wouldn’t you?”

  “Of course they would. Who wouldn’t want you as their son? But Lo on the other hand is a spoiled brat. I always told my husband that he needed reining in, but Lo was the first born son and could do no wrong. Never mind that we never had a second born.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway. I don’t much care what the thinks anymore, but I do care about the restaurant. And he lived off the profits for plenty long. It’s time for him to pay it back. He needs to come help run things while I’m down. I’m sure his all-important job can spare him for just a couple of days until I can get out of the hospital.”

  “Gosh, I can’t believe I didn’t even ask. The doc says you’re okay? You’ll be okay?” he demanded. “I’m an ass.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’ll have to take blood pressure medication, and watch my salt intake. I sense a lot of bland steamed vegetables in my future.” She sighed.

  “All things considered, it could be a lot worse. And I can maybe…take care of the restaurant myself.”

  But the words came out haltingly. As much as he wanted to keep the restaurant open on his own, for Jin, could he really promise to do that? He didn’t think so. He had to hunt down Ignazio before things went sideways. And he wanted to sit down and talk with Lara. He was hoping that she might be willing to help him make some contacts who might be able to tell him more about the voice and why he could kill with a touch. Maybe he could live a normal life, or at least rest easy understanding who and what he was. He couldn’t be at the restaurant eight hours a day and do those things.

  “Okay,” he said, making up his mind. “I’ll get in touch with Lo, and I’ll call him out. You’re right. I remember you supported him for like six months when he was between jobs, and he never even came to say thank you. So I’ll do my best to get him to pull his share. He can cook, can’t he?”

  She nodded. “I taught him myself. When he was younger, he used to work in our restaurant after school. But then he graduated and decided it was beneath him.”

  “Good. We can split chef duties, and I’ll call in some of the temp delivery guys and see if we can’t cover the rest of the schedule that way. But if he won’t come…I’ll do what needs doing.”

  He wasn’t sure how that was going to work out. A few hours of unexpected closure wouldn’t break the business, but he knew the rent on the building was high. And who knew how much of Jin’s hospitalization would be covered by her insurance. If she even had any. He wasn’t about to bring that up now and potentially worry her. She had enough strain on her heart already.

  “Maybe your new girlfriend could help out. Can she cook?” asked Jin delightedly.

  Vincent shrugged. “She’s in the waiting room if you want me to ask her.”

  Jin blinked. “She’s here?”

  He nodded. “She came to support me.”

  The teasing look faded from her face, replaced by a thoughtful one. “I look forward to meeting her. Now, please, go call Lo? It’ll be a weight off my mind to know that the restaurant is taken care of.”

  “Sure thing.”

  He stepped out of the room and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, but before he could dial, one of the many “no phones!” signs caught his attention. He wasn’t sure what phone use would do to all of the delicate machinery—maybe nothing—but he didn’t want to find out. He walked out to the waiting room and scanned it, but Lara wasn’t there. If he hurried, maybe he could be done with the call and report back to Jin before she returned from the cafeteria.

  He had Lo’s number saved in his phone, because one time he was sick, and Jin had given him a list of potential fill ins to call. Lo hadn’t even answered. They’d only talked once, when Lo had called into the restaurant to ask for money. Vincent had been really tempted to call him out on his selfish behavior then, but he hadn’t known how Jin would take that. So he’d said nothing and regretted it ever since.

  He dialed the phone, trying to figure out what he was going to say. Under most circumstances, he’d want to deliver news like this delicately. But Lo was such a self-centered jerk that he wasn’t sure delicate was the right way to go. If he downplayed Jin’s condition, then Lo could just say, “Oh, I’m sure she’ll be fine,” and then hang up. So he had to make sure that Lo understood.

  Someone picked up.

  “Yes?” they said.

  The voice wasn’t familiar. It was female, for starters.

  “I’m looking for Lo Wang,” he said politely.

  “Me too. I’m his landlord. Who are you?” she asked.

  “I’m his mother’s friend. She’s in the hospital. I’m trying to find Lo. Do you know where he is?”

  “No, and he hasn’t paid his rent this month. I came in to see if he’d moved out without notice, but his stuff’s still here. If you find him, will you tell him he’s got a week to pay up, and that’s only because I’m nice.”

  “Uh… sure,” he said, but it was no use, because she’d already hung up.

  If it had been anyone else, he might have been worried. But it seemed just like Lo Wang to skirt his responsibilities, so he didn’t bother. He’d just have to hunt the irresponsible bastard down at work.

  Chapter 11

  Are you sure?” Lara asked for the fifth time. “I feel guilty leaving you to deal with all of this on your own?”

  When she’d returned from the cafeteria with a selection of baked goods, Vincent had wolfed down a croissant and a turnover in short order. That had felt good, like at least she could do something useful to help. But then he’d turned around and suggested that she get back to work on finding Ignazio while he dealt with some things at the hospital. Of course she knew that finding Ignazio was important, but that whole “people will die” thing felt far away right now. Vincent was here, and he was hurting, and certainly it wouldn’t be a problem for her to spend a half hour more supporting him in this difficult time? She couldn’t stand the idea of leaving him all alone when she knew he was scared and trying to put a brave face on it.

  “I’m sure,” he said firmly. “I need to get some information from Jin, and
I’ll probably have to stop by her apartment and the restaurant. It’s not a two-person job. I’d love to have your company, but there are more important things for you to do.”

  “Like finding Ignazio.” Lara sighed. Of course he was right. She didn’t have to like it, but he was. If Ignazio’s actions were at all tied to the presence of a succubus in the city—if he was one, or if he knew of one in Tanith’s entourage—she had to do something. People would most definitely die, and Vincent would feel even worse if she insisted on babysitting him and something bad happened. “Fine. But I’m worried about you. And about your boss. You’ll keep me posted?”

  “As long as you do too.” He shot her an odd look. “I should be the worried one, you know. You’re doing a dangerous thing, and I should be worried about you. But I’m not, and you’re worried about me when I’m not going to be in any danger at all.”

  That was a warning against emotional attachment if she’d ever heard one. He was trying to tell her not to care so much without being obvious about it. She appreciated his tact, but the message still hurt. She would be his friend, of course, but she’d been beginning to feel the stirring of something more.

  “Sure. Of course,” she said. “I’ll get to work, and I’ll call you if I find anything out.”

  “That’s a good idea. And I’ll do the same.”

  He was still looking at her strangely when she left, but she tried to pay it no mind. She had a job to do, and Lara Tanaka had always been good at her job. But her heart ached as she walked away, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it.

  As soon as she was out of the hospital, she took out her phone and called Audra, hoping that maybe she’d have some word on the whole succubus thing. But the call went to voice mail, and so she left a message and hoped for a quick call back. The gas gauge was hovering on the red, so she pulled into a station and had just finished filling it up when the phone rang. She snatched it and answered without even looking at the caller ID.

  “Audra?” she said, before realizing that this was a silly assumption.

  “No,” said an amused voice on the other end of the line. The deep, husky tones were instantly recognizable. “Have you found Ignazio? And my tapes?”

  “I haven’t,” she said. “It would be handy if I could come in. Look around. I might see some clues that might help me figure out where he went.”

  “If there were any such information here, I would have given it to you already,” said Tanith, sounding annoyed.

  “You might not realize that you have it,” replied Lara. “That’s often the way of things. If I could talk a bit to the other staff members who know him, and maybe see his office? I’ve already searched his apartment.”

  Now Tanith’s voice was bright with interest. “You did? And what did you find?”

  The thought of the books hovered at the front of her mind, but she wasn’t about to mention them. The dossier from Annamarie hadn’t been firm on Tanith’s status. She might have been a supernatural of some sort, and therefore unshaken by the mention of succubi, or she might have been one of those extremely rich humans who’d happened to get their hands on her agency’s contact info. Annamarie hadn’t been able to confirm which was true, so for the moment, Lara wasn’t going to mention Ignazio’s books at all.

  “Nothing,” she said. “It looked like he didn’t spend much time there. That’s why I thought a look at his work space might be helpful.”

  “Oh, fine. Come to the Arpeggio staff entrance, and I’ll have one of my people let you in.”

  Then Tanith hung up. Lara rolled her eyes. She didn’t like working with famous people for this exact reason. They were rude, and they took your availability for granted, as if the world revolved around them. She supposed she was being a bit prejudiced by painting them all with the same brush, but she couldn’t help herself. All of her famous clients had acted this way, and she looked forward to the day when she’d be proven wrong. But until then, she expected that kind of treatment. At least then it wasn’t so annoying when it happened.

  Well, she wasn’t busy right now, since Vincent had shoved her out the hospital doors after taking the time to call her in in the first place. Now that she thought back on all of it, his behavior was kind of confusing. He’d called her for support, which she was happy to provide. And when she’d gotten there, that hug had felt like more than just a friend needing some support. So why had he turned around and given her the cold shoulder? Had she said something or done something to turn him off? Or had she been imagining the whole thing in the first place, and he’d never even been interested? She had no idea, and it was useless to obsess over it. She’d just have to see how he acted when they saw each other next time. Play it cool.

  But for now, she had to go see a famous singer about a succubus. She closed up her gas cap and headed for the Strip.

  As expected, it took some time to get to Tanith Q. First, she had to show her ID to the blasé guard at the employee entrance to the club. He checked it against his list, and made a phone call, and looked at the list again like it might have changed while he was talking, and finally let her in. She had to repeat the ID showing and list checking twice before she got into the backstage area. As annoying as that was, she didn’t bother complaining. It wouldn’t have done any good. Besides, drunken idiots probably tried to sneak back here to find Tanith Q all the time, so they were the real culprits. The guards were just doing their jobs.

  Finally, she was ushered into the green room by a harried backstage manager in a headset, who assured her that Tanith would be along “shortly…ish.” Lara was used to celebrity time, and knew exactly what the man meant. Tanith would come when she wanted to, and if she arbitrarily decided to make Lara wait, there was nothing the backstage manager could do about it. At least there was bottled water. Lara helped herself and sat down to watch some TV.

  She’d already finished the bottle and almost an entire episode of Big Brother when the door opened. Although she didn’t launch herself to her feet, she did get up to face the door. When Tanith Q glided in on impossibly high platform shoes and a towering cotton candy wig, she realized it wouldn’t have mattered. The only way they’d be eye to eye was if Lara invested in a pair of stilts.

  The singer gave her a once over and smiled, slow and delighted.

  “They didn’t tell me you were such a pretty little thing,” she said. “You don’t look like a bounty hunter at all.”

  Lara had heard a variation of this so many times before that the answer was rote. “Exactly. That’s why they don’t see me coming,” she said.

  “I’ll bet. Well, what can I do for you? I’ve got to get to a photograph session in a few minutes, but I assumed you’d want to see me.”

  Tanith preened, and Lara watched her carefully. Either she was so self-centered that she hadn’t noticed something weird was going on right underneath her nose, or she condoned it. Perhaps she knowingly employed a succubus, or she was one herself. Or maybe…wait a minute. Lara felt stupid. She’d been assuming all this time that the succubus was real, but standing in front of her was a performer who obviously pushed the creative envelope. What if she was planning a show with some kind of succubus theme, and Ignazio’s reading material was just a normal part of his job? The books were fairly accurate and not the usual horror nonsense, but possession of that kind of book might just mean he was really good at research. It didn’t necessarily indicate the presence of an actual succubus.

  She relaxed as this realization washed over her. Of course it made the most sense. Vincent’s proclamations of doom and gloom, combined with the strange circumstances of their meeting, had thrown her off her game. But now she knew what she was up against. Her voice grew in confidence as she spoke to Tanith.

  “I don’t think there’s anything in particular that I need from you,” she said. “And I know you’re busy. But if you could put me in touch with someone who could show me around backstage, particularly places where Ignazio worked and the people he worked the closest with, I�
�d really appreciate it. I imagine they don’t let people just wander around unattended back here.”

  Tanith rolled her eyes in an extravagant gesture that Lara could identify with.

  “Girl, you are not kidding,” said the tall singer. “There are too many crazies out there for sure. I’ll hook you up with Manfred. He was Ignazio’s assistant. He should be able to get you what you need.”

  “Thank you,” said Lara politely.

  She expected Tanith to sweep out in one of those dramatic exits, but instead the singer stomped over toward her and leaned down. Her expression darkened as she loomed, her eyes big and dark.

  “You’ll find him tonight,” she proclaimed.

  “I’m not so sure about that,” said Lara, unfazed. Clients tried to intimidate her all the time. Sometimes she shot them, just to make them easier to deal with. The effect did wear off, if she let it. So she didn’t feel too badly about it. “It might take me longer to locate him. Is there some reason in particular that you feel rushed? Some deadline I didn’t know about?”

  “Tonight,” Tanith repeated, pointing a long-nailed finger at her. “I am not used to being disobeyed. You’ll do as I say.”

  With that, she turned and swept out, leaving Lara shaking her head in exasperation. Every single time she had a famous client, they made unreasonable demands. It seemed like part of the whole fame gig. Good thing Lara couldn’t carry a tune, because she wouldn’t want to be like that. Not ever.

  After a few minutes, the harried guy she’d thought was a stage manager came back in. He was sweating with exertion but otherwise neatly put together. A dark goatee and black rimmed glasses set off nerdy good looks. Lara smiled at him.

  “I’m sorry to be a trouble,” she said. “I imagine she’s running you ragged.”

  He huffed in exasperation, nodding. “No kidding. Hand me one of those bottled waters? I’m sweating like a pig!”

  She did as he asked and waited for him to take a swig before she spoke again.